Skip to main content

Full text of "The Monthly review"

See other formats 


Google 


This  is  a  digital  copy  of  a  book  that  was  preserved  for  generations  on  library  shelves  before  it  was  carefully  scanned  by  Google  as  part  of  a  project 

to  make  the  world's  books  discoverable  online. 

It  has  survived  long  enough  for  the  copyright  to  expire  and  the  book  to  enter  the  public  domain.  A  public  domain  book  is  one  that  was  never  subject 

to  copyright  or  whose  legal  copyright  term  has  expired.  Whether  a  book  is  in  the  public  domain  may  vary  country  to  country.  Public  domain  books 

are  our  gateways  to  the  past,  representing  a  wealth  of  history,  culture  and  knowledge  that's  often  difficult  to  discover. 

Marks,  notations  and  other  maiginalia  present  in  the  original  volume  will  appear  in  this  file  -  a  reminder  of  this  book's  long  journey  from  the 

publisher  to  a  library  and  finally  to  you. 

Usage  guidelines 

Google  is  proud  to  partner  with  libraries  to  digitize  public  domain  materials  and  make  them  widely  accessible.  Public  domain  books  belong  to  the 
public  and  we  are  merely  their  custodians.  Nevertheless,  this  work  is  expensive,  so  in  order  to  keep  providing  tliis  resource,  we  liave  taken  steps  to 
prevent  abuse  by  commercial  parties,  including  placing  technical  restrictions  on  automated  querying. 
We  also  ask  that  you: 

+  Make  non-commercial  use  of  the  files  We  designed  Google  Book  Search  for  use  by  individuals,  and  we  request  that  you  use  these  files  for 
personal,  non-commercial  purposes. 

+  Refrain  fivm  automated  querying  Do  not  send  automated  queries  of  any  sort  to  Google's  system:  If  you  are  conducting  research  on  machine 
translation,  optical  character  recognition  or  other  areas  where  access  to  a  large  amount  of  text  is  helpful,  please  contact  us.  We  encourage  the 
use  of  public  domain  materials  for  these  purposes  and  may  be  able  to  help. 

+  Maintain  attributionTht  GoogXt  "watermark"  you  see  on  each  file  is  essential  for  in  forming  people  about  this  project  and  helping  them  find 
additional  materials  through  Google  Book  Search.  Please  do  not  remove  it. 

+  Keep  it  legal  Whatever  your  use,  remember  that  you  are  responsible  for  ensuring  that  what  you  are  doing  is  legal.  Do  not  assume  that  just 
because  we  believe  a  book  is  in  the  public  domain  for  users  in  the  United  States,  that  the  work  is  also  in  the  public  domain  for  users  in  other 
countries.  Whether  a  book  is  still  in  copyright  varies  from  country  to  country,  and  we  can't  offer  guidance  on  whether  any  specific  use  of 
any  specific  book  is  allowed.  Please  do  not  assume  that  a  book's  appearance  in  Google  Book  Search  means  it  can  be  used  in  any  manner 
anywhere  in  the  world.  Copyright  infringement  liabili^  can  be  quite  severe. 

About  Google  Book  Search 

Google's  mission  is  to  organize  the  world's  information  and  to  make  it  universally  accessible  and  useful.   Google  Book  Search  helps  readers 
discover  the  world's  books  while  helping  authors  and  publishers  reach  new  audiences.  You  can  search  through  the  full  text  of  this  book  on  the  web 

at|http: //books  .google  .com/I 


°3/3,3 


/r/ . 


';zs=- 


^ik-^s^ri 


r 


■  mr  -^  ft^ 


i 


THE 


MONTHLY  REVIEW, 


FROM 


SEPTEMBER  TO  DECEMBER  INCLUSIVE. 


1834. 


VOL.  III. 

NEW   AND   IMPROVED    SERIES. 


LONDON: 
G.  HENDERSON,    2,    OLD   BAILEY, 

LXTDGATS*HILL« 
1834. 


J.    HBNOfiRSOX,  PRINTER, 


WHITB-FRTARI. 


ERRATA. 
Page  43,  line  17.  for  ascend  read  ascended 

45  y    —     I  ^  fov  vchichTtHd  on  icMch 

_  85,    —    7,  from  the  bottom,  for  T"  **he  read  '» *'  7%r 

_279,    6,  for  iiM/mcrion;  on  this  side  qf  the  channel  Dear^  read  constfuctioA  on  this 

side  of  the  channel;  '*  Dear 

279,    —  11,  for  themseltes,  read  themselves.''^ 

Q88,    —  29,  for  being  Jamie  read  Xeein'  Jamie 

—  293,   —  27,  for  Kepltn  read  Kepler, 


CONTENTS 


OP  THE 


MONTHLY  REVIEW  FOR  OCTOBER. 


VoL  III.  (1834)  No.  II. 


■>      •  ■• 


PAGE 

Art.  I.  The  Angler  k  Wales,  or  Days  and  Nights  of  Sportsmen. 

By  ThooM  Medtrfik,  Esq '-: 145 

TL  UXe  and  Cormpondence'  of  Mrs.  Hannah  More.  .••••.•••  155 

III.  Alphabet  of  Natural  Theology,  for  the  Use  pf  Beginners. 

By  James  Renni£,  M.A. «••, »•*«••••••   169 

IV.  The  Priodples  of  Physiology  applied  to  the  Preservation 

of  Health,  and  to  the  improvement  of  Physical  and  Men- 
^1  Education.  By  Andrew  Combe,  M.D.,  F.  R.  Coll. 
Edinburgh 180 

V.  Lardner's  Cabinet  Cydopsdia-— Europe  during  the  Middle 

Ages.    Vol.  4 197 

VI.  lives  of  the  Necromancers.    By  Wiljiam  Gk)dvdn 206 

VII.  The  Bridgewater  Treatises,  on  the  Pow^,  Wisdom,  and 

Goodness  of  Gkxl,  as  manifested  in  the  Creation.  By 
Peter  Mark  Roget,  M.D ^ •....,...    219 

VIII.  A  Sketch  of  Chinese  History,  Ancient  and  Modem.    By 

Rev.  Charles  6utzla£f 238 

IX.  History  of  the  British  Colonies.     By  R.  Montgomery 

Martin .....,.•.. 250 

X.  View  of  the  Origin  and  Migration  of  the  Polynesian  Nation. 

By  John  Dunmore  Lang,  D.D » •,,...    26^ 

XI.  Tales  for  the  British  People.   By  Candida 277 

XII.  The  Popular  Bncyclopeedia,  &c.  &c •  • 285 


CONTENTS. 
Article  Page 

XIII.  nioBiralions  of  Taxation.  No.  5.— The  Scholars  of  Ame- 

side.    By  Mibs  Martineau ib. 

XIV.  History  of  Fleet  Marriages,  &c.     By  John  Southerden 

Bum , 286 

XV.  An  Analytical  Airangement  of  the  Apocalypse.  By  Richard 

Roe t6. 

XVI.  The  Domestic  Manners  and  Private  Life  of  Sir  Walter  Scott. 

By  J.  Hogg 287 

XVII.  Miller's  Gardener's  Dictionary.    No.  10 ib. 

XVIII.  Illustrations  of  Social  Depravity.    No.  5. — •*  What  are  the 

Rabble?"     By  a  Lady 288 

XIX.  A  Second  Letter  to  C.  £.  Long,  Esq.,  on  the  MS.  Journal 
and  Private  Correspondence  of  the  late  Lieut.-Gen.  R.  B. 
Long.     By  General  Lord  Viscount  Beresford. . .  •  • ib. 

XX.  An  Introduction  to  Greek  Prose  Composition.    By  the  Rev. 

John  Kenrick,  M.A ^....   292 

XXI.  The  Family  Topographer ;  being  a  Compendious  Account 
of  the  Antient  and  Present  State  of  the   Counties  of 
Etfgland.    By  Samuel  Tymms.    Vol.  4. — Oxford  Circuit,    ib. 


CONTENTS 


OF  TBV 


MONTHLY  REVIEW  FOR  NOVEMBER, 


Vol.  III.  (1834)  No.  III. 


Page 

Akt.  I.-^-Memoirs  of  John  Napier,  of  Merchiston/his  lineage^ 
lAfe,  and  Times :  with  a  History  of  the  Invention  of 
Logarithms.     By  Mark  Napier 292 

II. — France,    Social,  Literary,  and  Political.      By  Henry 

Lytton  Bulwer,  Esq.,  M.  P •  •  • «•.*•••..      302 

III. — ^The  Political  Life  of  Prince  Talleyrand,  &c.  &c 319 

IV. — ^The  Book  named  the  Oovemour.     By  Sir  Thomas 

Elyot,  Knt 334 

V. — ^Third  and  Fourth  Meetings  of  the  British  Association 

for  the  Advancement  of  Science • .. .      342 

VI. — ^Letters  from  India ;  inclnding  a  Journey  in  the  British 

Dominions  of  India    By  Victor  Jacquemont 350 

VII. — ^The  Literary  Life  and   Miscellanies  of   John   (hit, 

8vo 364 

VIII. — ^The  Nervous  System,  Anatomical  and  Physiological,  in 
which  the  Fimctions  of  the  various  parts  of  the  Brain 
are,  for  the  first  time  assigned,  &c.  &c.  By  Alexander 
Walker 375 

IX. — Missionary  Researches  in  Armenia,  including  a  Journey 
through  Asia  Minor  and  into  Georgia  and  Persia, 
with  a  Visit  to  the  Nestorians  and  Cl.aldean  Chris* 
tians  of  Oormiah  and  Salmas.  By  Eli  Smith  and 
H.  O.  O.Dwight 379 

X. — Wanderings  in  New  South  Wales.  Batavia,  Pedir, 
Coast,  Singapore,  and  China ;  being  the  Journal  of  a 
Naturalist  in  those  Countries,  during  1832, 1833,  and 
1834.    By  George  Bennett,  Esq.,  F.L.S,,  ..••••..     396 


L 


C0NTSNT8. 

XI. — ^An  Account  of  the  Present  State  of  the  Island  of  Puerto 

Rico,  &c.     By  Colonel  FUnter    411 

XII. — I.  The  Landscape  Annual  for  1835.  The  Tourist  in 
Spain — Granada.  By  Thomas  Roscoe.  Illustrated 
from  DrawiDgs,  by  David  Roberts.  II.  The  Oriental 
Annual  for  1835^  or  Scenes  in  India.  By  the  Rev. 
Hobart  Caunter,  BD 423 

XIII. — A  Dissertation  on  the  Reasonableness  of  Christianity. 

By  th«  Rev.  John  Wilson.  A.  M 440 

XIV.— The  Collected  Poems  of  the  late  N.  T.  Carrington. 

Edited  by  his  Son,  H.  E.  Carrington 440 

XV. — Metrical  Exercises  upon  Scripture  Texts  and  mis- 
cellaneous Poems.  By  Harriet  R.  King 44g 

XVI. — Memoirs  of  the  Rev.  Wm.  Henry  Angas,  ordained  a 
'*  Missionary  to  Seafaring  Men,"  Mayl  1,  1822.  By 
the  Rev.F.  A,  Cox,  L.L.D 442 

XVir.--T^  Eriles  of  Chamnoum;  a  Drama;  and  the  Rose  of 
Cashmere ,  "^an  Oriental  Opera.  By  Charles  Do3rne 
SiUery,  Esq • 43 

XVIII. — Statement  of  some  new  principles  on  the  subject  of  Poli- 
tiedl  Eeenomy,  exposing  the  fallacies  of  the  system 
Fpee  Trade,  and  or  some  other  doctrines  maintanisd 
in  the  "  Wealth  of  Nations."    By  John  Rae 444 

XIX. — ^The  present  State  of  Aural  Surgery,  or  Methods  of 

treating  Deafness,  &c.     By  W.  Wright,  Esq 444 


•  • 


CONTENTS 


OV  THm 


MONTHLY  REVIEW  FOR  DECEMBER. 


Vol.  m.  (1834)  No.  IV. 


Abt.  I.— Lardnex's  Cabinet^  Cyclopedia— History  of  the  Ger- 
manic Empire.  By  S.  A.  Dunbain,  Esq.,  LL.D.,  &c.    445 

11. — Lectures  on  the  ordinary  Agents  of  Life,  as  applicable 
.   to  Therapeutics  and  Hygiine.  By  Alexander  Kilgour, 
M.D 454 

III.-*-Trout  and  Salmon  Fishing  in  Wales.     By  George  Agar 

Hansard ...••<•••..... 467 

IV.— Narrative  of  an  Exp^ditibh*  thr'o^gh'the  Upper  Mis- 
sissippi  to  Itasca  Lake^  the  actual  source  of  this  River. 
By  Henry  R.  Schoolcraft 475 

V. — I.  The  Atlantic  Club-book.    By  various  Authors. — II. 

Tales  and  Sketches.    By  William  L.  Stone 483 

VI.— Elements  of  Practical  Agricoltare.  By  David  Low.,  Esq., 

F.R.S.E 495 

VII. — ^A  Journey  throughout  Ireland  during  the  Spring,  Sum- 
mer, and  Autumn  of  1834.    By  Henry  D.  Inglis  • . .     506 

VIII. — ^The  North  American  Review,  No.  85,  Vol.  39 619 

IX. — Illustrations  of  Social  Depravity.  No.  VII. — ^The  Free- 
masons.   By  John  Reid    529 

X. — Narrative  of  a  Voyage  to  the  Southern  Atlantic  Ocean 
in  iJie  years  1828,  29,  30,  performed  in  His  Ma- 
jesty's Sloop  Chanticleer,  under  the  command  of  the 
late  Captain  Henry  Foster,  F.R.S.  By  W.  H.  B. 
Webster ••••••• •••••.  «•••....  .. ..      oo" 

XI.— Tylney  Hall.    By  Thomas  Hood 456 

XII. — ^The  Angler  in  Ireland;  or,  an  Englishman's  Ramble 
through  Connaugfat  and  Munster,  during  the  Summer 
of  1833 660 


u 


CONTBNTt. 


Xin.-^Bndenoea  of  Christiamty ;  or»  Unde  Philip's  Conver- 
satioDB  with  the  Children  about  the  Truth  of  the 
Christian  Religioli  •  ^ 574 

XIV. — ^Archery  and  Archness.    By  Robin  Hood 574 

XV. — ^Flnden's  Landscape  iflustrations  of  the  Bible.  Part  VI.  •     575 

XVI. — Memorials  of  Oxford,  Historical  and  Descriptive  Ac- 

eoonts  of  the  Colleges,  Halh,  Churches,  kt.  No.  20.     575 

XVII. — ^History  of  England.    By  Hume  and  Smollett,  with  a 

Continuation.  By  the  Rev.  T.  S.  Hughes,  B.  D 575 

XVIII. — Remains  of  the  late  James  Fox  Longmire,  with  a  Me- 
moir of  his  Life*    By  Daniel  Long^ire,  B.  A 576 

XIX. — ^The  Metropolitan  ficcfesiastiGal  Directory,  &c.  &c.    .. .     576 

XX.-«-The  Omnipresence  of  the  Deity.    A  poem.     By  Ro- 
b^  Montg^meff '••••..*.>..•• 

XXI.— ^The  Anatomy  of  the  Seasons,  tTeather-Ouide,  and  Per- 
petual Oompanion  t»  the  Almanac.  By  F.  Stur- 
l^y,  £s<^  •«...••. • .  i  • . .  •  •  tf  • « 

XXIl.>-^Lettera  to  «  Member  of  Parliament,  on  the  Present  State 
of  Thinga;  the  l4nd,  Ibtd  (^urdi  Dissent,  ChuVch 

Reform^  liberalism*  .flpc,  in  referetice  to  Scripture 

Truth • « 578 


677 


577 


■    I   •    I    I 


THE 


MONTHLY    REVIEW. 


■»       ^     » 


SEPTEMBER,    1834. 


Abt.  I. — Dr.  Lariner's  Cahisiet  Cyelofadia  ^ — Biography ; — Naoai  History 
ofJtngland,  'By  Robert  Southby.  Vol.  3.  London :  Longman  &  Co. 
1834. 
The  th^ee  volitnies,  that  havje  been  published  of  this  work^  bring 
tJ^e  naval  history  of  Britain  down  from  the  invasion  of  Caesar  to 
the  year  1606,  embracing  therefore  the  whole  of  the  reign  of 
Queen  Elizabeth.  The  most  brilliant  period  of  our  maritime 
glory  was  accordingly  yet  to  come.  Indeed^  until  JLlizabeth's  ac- 
cession, naval  affairs  had^not  assumed  such  a  decided  importance 
as  to  deserve  a  distinct  arrangement  in  national  pohcy.  Till  then, 
the  military  and  naval  services  were  considered  as  the  same,  or  at 
least  not  separated.  Dr.  Southey,  therefore  down  to  that  period, 
has  done,  what  we  beheve  some  of  his  predecessors,  who  have  written 
works  upon  the  same  subject  have  done — ^he  gives  us  an  account, 
till  Elizabeth's  accession,  in  a  continuous  and  generalizing  form, 
following  the  Course  of  events  that  distinguished  the  country,  as 
respects  her  maritime  relations  or  exploits.  But,  from  that  period^ 
he  thinks  it  better  to  give  the  history  by  a  biographical  arrange* 
ment,  which  adds  a  much  deeper  interest  to  the  matter ;  for  thus 
the  agents  who  have  become  important,  as  well  as  the  actions,  are 
distinctly  kept  before  the  eye,  lending  to  the  history,  which  is 
general  and  public  in  the  result,  the  attraction  that  never  fiEuls  to 
accompany  a  well-written  life. 

We  shall  find  that  the  illustrious  naval  commanders  during  EUza- 
beth's  reign  were  distinguished  by  one  general  feature  from  the 
celebrated  admirals  of  more  modern  times,  which  attaches  to  their 
lives  a  special  sort  of  interest.  They  were  signalized  rather  as 
privateers  than  pubUc  servants.  The  love  of  enterprise,  or  tlie 
nope  of  plunder,  was  their  grand  motive.  It  is  true,  that  the  queen 
and  her  sapient  ministers  had  more  enlarged  and  nobler  views 
than  simply  countenance  such  lionised  sea  rovers.  They  looked 
to  the  discovery  of  distant  countries,  the  opening  a  trade  with  them 
by  just  and  peaceful  means,  and  even  the  establishment  of  perfect 


2  Souihetf's  Naval  History.^ 

discipliiie  on  sea  as  well  as  land.  They  desired  a  wider  range  for 
^enterprize  than  our  own  immediate  aeas^  or  the  adjacent  shores,  till 
at  length  the  British  fleets  have  no  rival.  The  great  figure  indeed 
which  we  make  in  the  w.orld  as  a  nation,  is  due  to  our  naval 
strength  and  achievements :  and  the  difiusion  of  British  fiune  and 
freedom  are  the  glorious  trophies  of  our  maritime  empire. 

To  preserve  an  unbroken  and  complete  detail  of  the  long  series 
of  daring  adventures  and  encounters,  of  those  wonderful  victories — 
by  which  this  mighty  empire  has  been  obtained,  is  highly  worthy  of 
an  able  historian.  The  matter  itself  is  in  magnitude  and  importance 
deserving  a  distinct  form  from  J;he  genefal  history  of  England. 
How  valuable  must  such  a  work  be  to  islanders,  who  owe  their  very 
existence  to  navigation,  and  their  chief  renown  to  navies  !  Above 
all,  the  subject  is  of  unrivalled  importance  to  a  commercial  people, 
who  send  away  their  commodities  to  the  most  distant  parts  of  the 
globe,  and  bring  back  whatever  is  esteemed  for  its  singularity  or 
its  intrinsic  value.  A  clear  and  becoming  history  of  all  these  Jthmgs 
must  also  cherish  and  keep  alive  a  heroic  spirit,  which  is  the 
source  of  gallant  actions,  especially  when  represented  in  the  lives 
of  individual  heroes.  And  although  Dr.  Southey  does  not  wish  to 
induce  any  youth  to  betake  himself  to  the  service,  as  he  tells  us, 
yet  to  those  so  inclined,  such  a  manual  as  he  has  fiirnished  must  be 
valuable,  whence  both  warnings  and  examples  may  be  drawn ;  nor 
could  we  wish  any  other  hand  to  have  been  employed  in  this  work 
than  the  one  which  wrote  that  model  of  biography,  the  life  of 
Nelson. 

The  naval  history  of  Great  Britain  is  a  gratifying  subject  to  her 
sons.  How  the  heart  exults,  how  the  very  bearing  of  every  one 
assumes  a  lofty  confidence  and  magnanimous  superiority,  when  he 
finds  his  country  named  in  connection  with  her  fleets  !  The  mind 
has  found  out  the  happiest  appellations  for  this  unrivalled  power ; 
and  one  delights  to  find  himself  uttering,  ^'  The  wooden  walls  of 
Old  England !"  Dr.  Southey  savs,  that,  according  to  the  Welsh 
Triads,  the  earliest  name  by  which  the  island  was  known  was 
Clas  Alerddin,  "  the  sea-defended  green  spot,"  which  seems  to 
have  been  a  prophetic  designation  ;  but,  as  he  somewhat  quaintly 
adds,  ^^  the  se^  defends  no  people  who  cannot  defend  themselves  P' 
But  have  Britons  not  done  so  in  the  most  illustrious  style  ?  Buona- 
parte with  all  the  ports  of  the  continent  in  his  possession,  and  all 
its  navies  at  his  command,  in  vain  opposed  us.  The  sea  between 
Dover  and  France,  narrow  though  it  be,  was  found  impassable, 
by  this  most  ambitious,  most  powerful,  and  most  inveterate 
enemy. 

Of  the  three  volumes  that  have  been  published  of  this  work,  we 
shall  confine  ourselves  to  the  last.  The  second  ended  with  an  ac- 
count of  the  disasters  and  discomfortures  attendant  on  the  Spanish 
Invincible  Armada,  which  took  place  in  1588,  and  the  third  there- 
fore goes   on  with  the  lives  of  those  sea  adventurers  and  com- 


ScMihey's  Naval  History.  3 

Buukiers,  that  oontiniied  to  pour  England's  vengeance  on  the  domi- 
nions  of  the  gloomy  Philip,  who  impioasly  had  put  his  trust  in  m 
unwieldy  fleet,  and  vainly  imagined  to  quench  the  spirit  and  free- 
dom of  England.  The  hves  of  George  Cliiford,  third  Earl  of  Cum- 
berland, Sir  John  Hawkins,  Sir  Francis  Drake,  Thomas  Caven- 
dish, Sir  Richard  Hawkins,  and  Sir  Richard  Greenville,  are  hefore 
us ;  and  we  may.  say,  every  page  of  the  volume  presents  extract- 
able  and  entertaining  matter. 

Of  all  who  distinguished  Elizabeth's  reign,  the  Earl  of  Northum- 
berland was  the  most  chivalrous  naval  adventurei*.  He  was  not  by 
vocation  a  sailor,  but  took  to  the  seas  from  mere  choice,  "  in  the 
spirit  of  a  northern  sea  king ;"  building  ships,  and  defraying  his 
own  expenses  in  a  princely  style.  He  had  borne  his  part  as  a  vo- 
lunteer in  the  defeat  of  the  armada,  helping  to  '^  win  that  honour 
that  no  sea  can  drown,  no  age  wear  out.''  But  still  it  was,  as  a 
licensed  rover,  that  he  adventured  so  much  and  in  numerous 
voyages,  so  that  the  many  losses  and  difficulties  he  and  others,  fol- 
lowing a  like  course  in  those  times,  encountered,  do  not  aiFect  our 
hearts  so  deeply  as  the  fate  of  enlightened  and  philanthropic 
heroes  naturally  would.  His  last,  and  we  believe,  his  ninth  expe- 
dition was  upon  a  scale  that  no  single  individual,  not  possessea  of 
sovereign  power,  ever  had  attempted  at  his  own  cost.  The  force  of 
his  fleets  was  no  less  than  eighteen  sail,  and  his  design  not  merely 
**  to  take,  destroy,  or  any  way  else  impoverish  and  impeach  the  king 
of  Spain  or  his  subjects ;  but  to  intercept  the  outward-bound  East 
Indiamen,  as  soon  as  they  should  sail  from  the  Tagus  ;  and,  if  this 
should  fail,  to  make  an  attempt  with  his  land  forces  upon  some 
island  or  town,  that  would  yield  him  wealth  and  riches,  these  being 
the  end  of  his  undertaking.  What  an  undertaking  for  a  man  of 
his  noble  and  wealthy  line !  It  appears,  however,  that  while  the 
earl  managed  to  annoy  and  injure  deeply  those  against  whom  he 
went,  little  advantage  accrued  to  himself.  The  biographer  has 
given  many  passages  in  the  words  of  eye  witnesses  and  other  chro- 
niclers, which  are  highly  characteristic,  not  merely  of  the  general 
state  of  feeUng  and  moral  principles  then  prevalent  in  England, 
but  of  the  prodigality  of  the  earl  himself :  we  refer  our  readers  to 
one  passage  alone,  where  the  Doctor  sums  up  the  nobleman's 
character : — 

"  No  other  subject  ever  undertook  so  rcany  at  his  own  cost;  and 
Fuller  gives  him  the  distinction  of  being  *  the  first  born  Englishman 
that  ever  hazarded  himself  in  that  kind;'  adding,  that  his  fleets  were 
^  boxmd  for  no  other  harbour  than  the  port  of  Honour,  though  touching 
at  the  port  of  Profit  in  passage  thereunto  ;  I  say  touching  (says  the  old 
worthy),  for  his  design  was  not  to  enrich  himself,  but  impoverish  the 
enemy. — He  was  as  merciful  as  valiant,  (the  best  metal  bows  best),  and 
left  impressions  of  both  in  all  places  he  came.'  Fuller  eulogizes  him  as 
*a  person  wholly  composed  of  true  honour  and  valour.  There  were 
some  other  ingredients  in  his  character;  and  when  the  Earl  of  Cumber- 
land bore  '  next  to  his  paternal  coats  three  murdering  chain  shots,'  such 

B  2 


4  Southey's  Naval  History, 

an  addition  to  his  armorial  bearings  was  more  significant  than  he  in- 
tended it.  The  desire  of  gfain  must  have  influenced  him  in  his  priva- 
teering speculations  as  much  as  the  desire  of  honour ;  for  a  prodigal  ex- 
penditure, and  losses  in  horse-rating  (which  species  of  gambling  had  in 
his  days  begun  to  be  one  of  the  follies  of  the  great),  had  embarrassed 
his  affairs.  Next  to  his  voyages,  this  passion  and  the  display  which  he 
made  at  tilts,  and  in  all  other  expensive  sports, '  were  the  great  occasion 
of  his  selling  land  ;*  and  he  is  said  to  have  *  consumed  more  than  any 
one  of  his  ancestors'"/  The  large  expenditure  which  his  station  required 
his  own  ample  means  could  amply  have  supported ;  but  no  means  are 
adequate  to  the  demands  of  prodigality." — p.  65, 

Of  the  earl's  issue,  only  one  daughter  survived  him :  "  This 
daughter,  by  ber  second  marriage.  Countess  of  Pembroke,  was  one 
of  the  most  high-minded  and  remarkable  women  of  her  age  :  and 
seems  to  have  been  the  last  person  in  England  bv  whom  the  old 
baronial  dignity  of  feudal  times  was  supported.  All  the  good  con-* 
nected  with  it  was  manifested  without  any  of  the  evil.  Danid 
was  her  tutor :  and  she  had  the  honour  of  erecting  Spencer^s  mo- 
nument." 

We  next  come  to  the  life  of  Sir  John  Hawkins,  the  son  of  a  sea 
captain  that  Henry  VTH.  had  much  esteemed.  He  was  the  first 
Englishman  who  engaged  in  the  slave  trade ;  and  he  iseems  to  havQ 
entered  upon  this  department  of  business  with  as  much  indifference 
or  satisfaction  as  a  keen  sportsman  goes  to  hunt,  fish  or  fowl : 
countenanced  and  encouraged,  too,  by  a  number  of  the  principal 
citizens  of  London.  Nay,  he  dealt  with  this  species  of  prey  with 
as  much  sang  froid  as  any  member  of  the  British  senate  within 
these  last  fifty  years  could  have  desired.  It  will  doubtless  be  a 
marvel  to  generations  that  have  not  seen  the  light  in  this  country, 
what  sort  of  men  those  were,  even  to  the  external  eye,  that  advo- 
cated in  behalf  of  slavery ;  and,  unless  it  be  taught  them  that  one 
and  not  the  slightest  of  its  evils  was  the  brutalizing  the  whites, 
while  it  put  and  kept  in  bondage  the  blacks,  they  never  can  be  able  to 
understand  how  men,  otherwise  estimable,  and  who  professed  Chris- 
tianity, could  approve  of  such  revolting  practices  as  slavery  de- 
manded. We  never  lost  our  composure  so  completely  as  when  its 
advocates  would,  with  a  vile  perversion  of  ideas,  ground  their  de- 
fence of  the  system  upon  humane  principles,  and  maintain,  some- 
times truly,  no  doubt,  that  many  of  the  West  Indian  slaves  were 
better  off  than  the  labourers  in  England.  How  rational  it  was 
to  make  men  happy  against  their  will !  or  to  trust  to  an^  indivi- 
dual fact  that  was  m  the  face  of  great  and  fiindamental  prmciples  ! 
thus  permitting  a  fallacious  appearance  to  perpetuate  a  monstrous 
wrong.  But  honour  to  the  ministry  that  washed  away  fiir  the 
future  this  foul  blot  upon  Britons  and  professed  Christians !  It  was 
worth  partaking  iu  the  nationcd  depression  of  late  years,  to  live 
when   slavery  received  its  death-blow  in  our  colonies.     Still  the 

*Hist.  of  Westmoreland,  290. 


Souikey'g  Naval  History.  5 

wiHider  will  be,  how  civilized  men  could  ever  be  trained  to  look  with 
composure,  and  complacency   too,   upon  such  a  forbidding  and 

lieinous  evil : — 

• 

'  It  is  now  no  honour  to  have  been  the  first  Englishman  who  en- 
gaged in  the  slave  trade.  But  it  is  not  generally  known  how  so  iniqui- 
tous a  trade  grew  up  without  being  regarded  as  in  the  slightest  degree 
repugnant  either  to  natural  justice,  or  to  the  principles  of  Christianity. 
At  a  time  when  European  warfare  had  been  mitigated  by  the  courtesies 
of  chivalry,  and  by  the  frequent  changes  of  political  relations,  more  than 
by  any  growing  sense  of  humanity,  the  wars  between  Mahommedan  and 
Ghristian  were  carried  on  with  as  much  ferocity  as  in  the  days  of  Gceur 
de  Lion ;  only  where  the  contending  parties,  as  in  Spain,  were  conti- 
nually opposed  to  each  other,  such  unrelenting  butchery  was  disused  by 
muAual  though  tacit  consent,  because  it  would  have  reduced  the  land  to 
a  desert ;  and  there,  those  who  fell  into  the  hands  of  their  enemies  were 
made  slaves.  The  Portugueze,  having  cleared  their  own  .territory,  in- 
vaded the  Moors  in  Barhary ;  the  same  system  was  there  pursued  with 
the  same  people.  Their  first  discoveries  were*  made  as  much  in  the 
spirit  of  conquest  as  of  adventure;  and  the  same  treatment  which 
usage  had  allotted  to  the  captured  Moors  was  extended,  as  of  course,  tb 
the  negproes  who  were  taken  along  the  same  line  of  coast.  To  so  great 
an  extent  did  this  prevail,  that  negro  slavery  was  Almost  as  common  in 
Portugal  in  the  early  part  of  the  sixteenth  century  as  it  afterwards  be- 
came in  the  sugar  islands.  And  so  entirely  were  all  persons  possessed 
with  the  opinion  that  slavery  was  the  condition  to  wluch  this  unhappy 
race  was  destined,  that  La  Casas,  when  he  proposed  the  substitution  of 
fiegro  for  Indian  slavery,  as  a  measure  of  hiunanity,  never  suspected 
himself  of  acting  inconsistently,  nor  dreamed  that  the  injustice  and 
cruelty  were  as  great  to  the  one  race  as  to  the  other." — ^pp.  ^,  69. 

We  remember  that  Drake  was  one  of  the  names  that  took  hold 
of  our  memory  in  our  early  greediness  after  the  marvellous  by  flood 
and  field.  His  mean  parentage  bespoke  our  romantic  favour ;  the 
story  of  the  first  sight  he  obtained  of  the  South  Sea,  from  the  top 
of  a  high  tree  on  the  Isthmus  of  Darien,  was  enough  to  establish 
a  lasting  warmth  of  heart  towards  him.  It  was  frona  this  height, 
we  are  told,  he  had  a  full  view  of  the  ocean,  concerning  which  he 
had  heard  such  golden  reports  :  and  here  it  was,  he  besought  God 
to  grant  him  "  life  and  leave  once  to  sail  an  English  ship  in  those 
seas  !*'  It  was  years  after  this,  however,  when  the  following  boast 
was  made  by  him : — 

^^  Drake  having  lost  his  pinnace  was  driven  still  farther  south,  ran  in 
4igain  among  the  islands,  and  at  length  *  fell  in  with  the  uttermost  part 
oi  thq  land  towards  the  south  pole, — ^without  which  there  is  no  main  nor 
island  to  be  seen  to  the  southward ;  but  the  Atlantic  Ocean  and  the 
South  Sea  meet  in  a  large  and  free  scope.*  The  storm,  which  vrith  little 
intermission  had  continued  fifty-one  days,  ceased :  they  found  an  anchor- 
ing place  at  the  southern  extremity  of  the  land,  since  called  Cape  Horn ; 
and  to  all  the  islands  which  lay  without,  and  to  the  south  of  the  strait, 
Drake  gave  the  name  of  the  Elizabethides.     He  had  thus  accidentally 


6  Sauthey's  Naval  History. 

discovered  Cape  Horn,  and  by  that  displaced  the  old  terra  ineognUa 
from  a  large  portion  of  the  space  which  it  occopied  in  the  map  :  '  we 
altered  the  name/  says  Mr.  Fletcher,  '  to  terra  nunc  bene  cognita* 
Drake  went  ashore,  and,  sailor  like,  ledning  over  a  promontory,  as  far  as 
he  safely  could,  came  back,  and  told  his  people  that  he  had  been  farther 
south  than  any  man  living.** — pp.  141, 142. 

'^  SaiIor*Iike/'  says  Doctor  Southey :  and  a  more  descriptive 
epithet  is  not  to  be  found  in  any  language.  This  appellation,  or 
that  of  a  ''  British  tar,"  points  out  to  the  apprehension  of  every 
one  more  in  its  simple  utterance,  than  a  lengthened  delineatioii 
by  any  other  medium  could  do ;  and  the  reason  for  this  must  lay 
not  only  in  one  style  of  features  being  prevalent  in  the  class,  whiiji 
their  peculiar  calling  naturally  begets,  but  their  being  the  very  fre- 
quent object  of  our  intense  and  partial  observation.  Their  vices 
are  as  characteristic  as  their  virtues,  nor  do  we  well  know  some- 
times whether  to  arrange  parts  of  their  conduct  under  the  one  head 
or  the  other.  Their  recklessness  and  their  generosity  strangely 
mingle  and  alternate.  One  thing  may  be  declared  of  sailors,  that 
their  many  privations,  their  self-denial,  strict  obedience,  carelessness 
of  dangers  in  the  face  of  death,  cannot  leave  them  undianged ;  and 
he  who  has  to  encounter  all  these,  must  either  be  brutalized  or 
exalted  by  their  operation  upon  his  mind.  We  have  a  short  but 
fine  summing  up  of  the  romantic  Drake^s  character  and  ap^ 
pearance : — 

*'  He  was  of  low  stature,  but  well  set ;  his  chest  broad,  his  hair  a  fine 
brown,  his  beard  full  and  comely,  his  head  remarkably  round,  his  eyes 
large  and  clear,  his  complexion  fair,  and  the  expression  of  his  fresh  and 
cheerful  countenance  open  and  engaging.  His  temper  was  qnkk, 
and  he  is  said  to  have  been  *haid  to  be  reconciled ;'  but  the  same  streoigth 
of  feeling  made  him  oonstaat  in  friendship.  The  gift  of  eloquence  he 
possessed  in  a  remarkable  degree,  and  was  fond  of  displaying  it.  One 
who  served  under  him  says,  that  he  was  ambitioiu  to  a  fault;  and  the 
vanities  which  usually  accompanies  that  sin  laid  him  open  to  flattery  : 
but  he  encouraged  and  preferred  merit  wherever  he  found  it ;  and  his 
affable  manners  gave  him  a  sure  hold  upon  the  affections  of  his  men, 
while  they  had  the  most  perfect  confidence  in  his  unrivalled  skill  as  a 
seaman,  and  his  never- failing  promptitude  in  all  cases  of  emergency.  At 
all  times  he  was  a  willing  hearer  of  every  man's  opinion ;  but  for  the 
most  part — as  a  truly  great  man  for  the  most  part  must  be — a  follower 
of  his  own."— pp.  241,  242. 

In  Cavendish's  life,  who  was  one  of  the  most  successful  adven- 
turers that  foUowed  in  the  tract  of  Sir  Francis  Drake,  we  extract 
the  following  story.  The  matter  described  happened  at  Guatulco, 
in  the  South  Seas. 

''  Cavendish  burned  the  church  here  as  he  had  done  at  Puna.  He 
might  have  known  that,  by  burning  a  church,  he  excited  among  the 
Spaniards  greater  horror  and  hatred  against  England  than  weis  felt 
there  when  the  Spaniards  burned  an  Englishman;  sacrilege  being  a 
crime  less  frequent  in  the  one  country  than  cruelty  in  the  other,  and  a 


^  — > 


S<mthey*s  Navql  History,  7 

cnme  by  which  even  criminals  were  shocked.  Advantage  was  made  of 
this  feelmg  at  Ghiatulco  in  another  way.  There  was  a  wooden  cross 
tiiere  five  fathoms  in  height,  which  the  Spaniaids  say  Cavendish's  men 
pulled  down, and  smeared  it  with  pitch,  piled  dried  reeds  around  it,  and  then 
endeavoured  to  consume  it  hy  fire.  The  reeds  burned  and  the  pitch, — 
not  so  the  cross :  more  and  more  oomhustihles  were  thrown  on ;  and 
when  the  invaders  reimbarked,  after  three  days'  tarriance,  during  all 
which  time  they  had  continued  their  vain  endeavours,  they  left  it  under 
a  heap  6f  ashes  and  burning  brands  uneonsumed.  And  when  the  8pa* 
niaids  returned  to  tiieir  ruined  dwellings,  they  found  it  brightened  and 
beaittified  by  Its  fiery  trial,  and  were  eonsoled  for  their  own  injuries  by 
seeing  that  Heayen  had  manifested  itself  in  the  protection  of  the  holy 
rood.  The  cross,  before  it  underwent  this  assay,  had  heen  in  good  odour ; 
it  was  made  of  a  hiagrant  wood  which  was  not  known  to  grow  within 
finrty  leagues  of  that  place :  it  had  been  presumed  that  one  of  the  apostles 
bad  planted  it  there,  and  that  one  was  supposed  to  have  been  St.  Andrew. 
Now,  however,  when  it  had  merits  enough  of  its  own,  the  likelier 
opinion  was  preferred  that  it  had  been  erected  when  Cortes  built  some 
ships  there  for  a  voyage  of  discovery.  The  report  of  its  miraculous  pre- 
servation spread  far  and  wide;  and  from  all  parts  devotees  who  could  walk 
came  to  visit  it,  and  to  carry  away  fragments j  the  smallest  splinter  of 
which,  if  cast  into  the  sea,  stilled  a  tempest;  if  thrown  into  a  fire 
quefBched  the  flames ;  and  if  pat  in  water,  changed  it  inta  a  sovereign 
medicine.  •  This  waste  of  its  suhstance  was  not  miraculously  supplied } 
and  when  about  a  fifth  part  only  was  left,  the  bishop  of  Antiquera  re- 
moved it  to  his  city,  built  a  chapel  for  it,  and  enshrined  it  there  with  all 
possible  honours  upon  a  holyday  appointed  for  the  occasion.  There  its 
history  continued  to  be  told  to  the  reproach  of  the  English  name." — 
pp.  263,  264. 

We  are  not  attempting  to  give  any  outline  of  the  lives  contained 
in  this  volume,  nor  to  make  it  appear  that  our  quotations  are  tlie 
most  striking  parts  of  the  work.  Every  page  as  we  have  above 
said,  presents  good  matter  for  extracting ;  where  the  daring,  the 
cruelty,  or  the  noble  virtues  of  strong-hearted  men  are  singularly 
apparent.  Here  is,  in  Sir  Richard  Hawkins's  biography,  a  lively 
and  somewhat  homely  picture  : — 

^*  After  distinguishing  himself  in  what  was  then  called  (in  Spanish 
idiom)  the  journey  against  the  Spanish  armada,  he,  who  with  his  father's 
counsel,  consent  and  help,  had  resolved  upon  a  voyage  for  the  islands  of 
Japan,  of  the  Philippines,  and  Moluccas,  and  the  kingdoms  of  China  and 
the  East  Indies,  hy  the  way  of  the  Straits  of  Magellan  and  the  South 
Sea,  caused  a  ship  to  be  hidit  for  it  on  the  Thames,  of  between  300  and 
400  tons.  The  work  was  finished  to  his  entire  content ;  *  for  she  was 
pleasing  to  the  eye,  profitable  for  stowage,  good  of  sail,  and  well  condi- 
tioned.'— *•  The  day  of  her  launching,'  he  says, '  being  appointed,  the  lady 
Hawkins,  my  mother-in-law,  craved  the  naming  of  the  ship,  which  was 
easily  granted  her ;  and  she,  knowing  what  voyage  was  pretended  to  be 
oaderteken,  named  her  the  Repentance.  What  her  thoughts  were  was 
kept  secret  to  herself;  and  although  many  times  I  expostulated  with  her 
to  declare  the  reason  for  giving  her  that  uncouth  name,  L  could  never 
have  any  other  satisfaction  than  that  *  Repentance  was  the  safest  ship 


8  Souiheys  NawU  Hhtary, 

we  could  sail  in  to  purchase  the  haren  of  Heaven.'  WeU*  I  kacw  she 
was  no  prophetess,  though  a  religious  and  most  virtuous  lady,  and  of  a 
very  good  understanding.  Yet  too  prophetical  it  fell  out  by  God's  se- 
cret judgments,  and  was  sufficient  for  the  present  to  cause  me  to  desist 
from  the  enterprise,  and  leave  the  ship  to  my  father,  who  willingly  took 
her,  and  paid  the  entire  charge  of  the  builaing  and  furnishing  of  her, 
which  I  had  concerted  or  paid.  And  this  I  did,  not  for  any  superstition  I 
have  in  names,  or  for  that  I  think  them  able  to  further  or  hinder  aay 
thing ;  for  that  all  immediately  dependeth  upon  the  providence  of  Al^ 
mighty  God,  and  i^  disposed  by  him  alone.  Yet  advise  I  all  persona 
ever  (neur  as  they  can)  by  all  means,  and  on  all  occasions,  to  pfieaag» 
unto  tnemselves  the  good  they  can.' 

**  It  chanced,  however,  that  when  the  Repentance  had  been  'put  in  per* 

fection,*  and  was  riding  at  Deptford,  the  queen  passing  by  on  her  way 

to  the  palace  of  Greenwich,  *  commanded  her  bargemen  to  row  round 

about  her,  and  viewing  her  from  po9t  to  stem  disliked  nothing  but  her 

name,  and  said  she  would  christen  her  anew,  and  that  thenceforth  she 

should  be  called  the  Dainty.'    Under  that  name  she  made  many  pros* 

perous  voyages  in  the  queen's  services ;  and  when  her  owner.  Sir  John^. 

resolved    to  sell  her,   though   with  some  loss,  because    '  she  never 

brought  but  cost,  trouble,  and  care  to  him,'  his  son.  Sir  Richard,  whose 

forebodings  concerning  her  had  been  removed  when  she  was  anabaplized, 

and  who  ever  had  had  *  a  particular  love  unto  her,  and  a  desire  that  she 

should  continue  in  the  family,'  repurchased  her  from  him,  with  all  her 

furniture,  at  the  price  for  which  he  had  formerly  disposed  of  her.    And 

having  *  waged  a  competent  number  of  men,'  and  purchased  sufficient 

stores  for  his  journey, '  so  often  talked  of,  and  so  much  desired,'  he  waa 

ready  at  the  beginning  of  April,  1553,  to  sail  from  Blackwall  to  Ply*' 

mouth,  there  to  join  the  other  two  vessels  destined  for  this  expedition, 

the  one  a  ship  of  100  tons,  the  other  a  pinnace  of  60,  both  his  own.    An 

expectation  that  the  lord  high  admiral  with  Sir  Robert  Cecil,  principal 

secretary  to  the  queen,  and  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  would  honour  him  and 

his  ship  with  their  presence  and  fisiTeweU,  detained  him  some  days.    But 

rain  and  *  untemperate'  weather  deprived  him  of  the  favour  which  he 

hoped  to  have  received  at  their  hands ;  and  the  wind  serving,  according 

to  his  wish,  he  caused  the  pilot  to  '  wayle  down  to  Gravesend,  took  an 

unhappy  last  leave   of  his    father,  and  followed    in    his  barge.'"-* 

pp.  285—287. 

We  shall  only  gratify  our  readers  with  one  other  extract;  and 
one  concluding  remark,  which  is  this,  that  Dr.  Southey  seems  to 
possess,  in  an  eminent  degree,  that  sagacity  which  fully  appreci- 
ates the  sailor's  character,  together  with  a  true  English  enthusiasm, 
enriched  by  the  most  highly  cultured  taste,  and  sanctified  by  the 
purest  religion.  On  such  grounds,  this  work  possesses  the  best 
recommendations  to  young  readers,  and  also  to  scholars.  As  a 
specimen  of  the  fine  and  full  perception  of  an  English  sailor's 
spirit,  take  the  last  scene  in  Sir  Richard  Greenville's  life,  after  a 
display  of  desperate  valour,  when  the  English  squadron  had  been 
surprised  by  the  Spanish  fleet  at  Flores,  and  his  ship  separated 
from  the  squadron  : — 


SomlheyU  Naval  Hiatinry-  9 

«*  ^kr  Richard  finding  himself  in  this  distrett,  the  Revenge  not  able  to 
more  one  way  or  the  other,  but  as  she  rolled  with  the  waves,  called  upon 
the  company  to  yield  themselves  unto  God,  and  to  the  mercy  of  none 
else,  and  commanded  the  master  gunner,  whom  he  knew  for  a  most 
naelute  man,  to  split  and  sink  the  ship,  '  that  thereby  nothing  might 
remain  of  glory  or  victory  to  the  Spaniards.  The  gunner  readily 
ccmaented,  but  the  captain  and  the  master  were  of  another  opinion ;  the 
eoemy,  they  said,  would  be  as  ready  to  entertain  a  composition  as  they 
weffe  to  offer  it;  there  were  many  brave  men  yet  living,  and  whose 
woundsweze  net  mortal,  who  might  live  to  do  their  country  and  their  prince 
acceptable  service ;  they  besought  Sir  Richard  to  have  some  consideration 
for  them :  and  told  him,  that  as  for  any  triumph  which  the  Spaniards 
could  have  in  taking  one  of  her  maiesty's  ships,  she  was  so  much  injured 
that  they  could  not  save  her  from  smking,  and  there  was  a^  this  time  six 
feet  water  in  the  hold.  Sir  Richard  continued  obstinate  in  his  purpose^ 
Leaving  the  captain,  therefore,  to  use  his  influence  with  the  men,  and 
prevent  him  from  affecting  it,  the  master  went  on  board  the  Spanish 
genecai,  and  easily  obtained  from  a  noble  enemy  that  all  their  lives  should 
be  saved,  and  the  company  sent  to  England,  the  better  sort  paying  such. 
reasonable  ransom  as  their  estate  would  bear ;  and  in  the  mean  season  to 
be  £[«e  from  the  galle3rs  or  imprisomnent.  The  guimer,  finding  himself 
aad  Sir  Richard  thus  prevented  and  mastered  by  the  greater  number,  wad 
only  by.foiee  withheld  itom  killing  himself;  and  many  of.  the  people 
fearing  Sir  Richard's  disposition,  *  shot  away'  aboard  the  Spazpsh  ships. 

^  Don  Alonso  Baasan,  brother  to  the  Maxquis  of  Santa  Cruz,  was  the 
general  of  this  fleet.  He  granted  the  more  readily  the  terms  which  were 
asked,  for  the  great  desire  he  had  to  save  Sir  Richard,  '  whom,  for  his 
notable  valonr,  he  seemed  greatly  to  admire,'  and  he  sent  for  him  into  his 
oivn  ship  the  St.  Paul,  the  Revenge  *  being  filled  with  blood,  and  slain 
and  wounded  men,  like  a  slaughter-house.'  Sir  Richard  said  the  general 
might  do  with  his  body  what  he  listed ;  and  fainting  as  he  was  carried  out, 
when  he  was  brought  to  himself,  he  desired  the  company  to  pray  for  him. 
Hie  wounds  were  immediately  dressed  by  the  Spanish  surgeons.  Don 
Alonso  did  not  come  near  him ;  but  the  other  captains  and  men  of  rank 
casae  to  visit  and  comfort  him  in  his  misfortune,  wondering  at  his  stead- 
fssftness  and  stout  heart,  for  he  showed  no  sign  of  faintness  nor  any  change 
of  countenance ;  and  feeling  that  his  death  was  at  hand,  he  spake  these 
memorable  words  in  Spanish,  that  all  who  heard  them  might  bear  witness 
to  their  tenour : — *  Here  die  I,  Richard  Greenville,  with  a  joyful  and  a 
quiet  mind,  for  that  I  have  ended  my  life  as  a  good  soldier  ought  to  do, 
who  has  fought  for  his  country,  queen,  religion,  and  honour.  Wherefore 
my  soul  joyfully  departeth  out  of  this  body,  and  shall  always  leave  behind 
it  an  everlasting  fame  of  a  true  soldier,  who  hath  done  his  duty  as  he  was 
bound  to  do.  But  the  others  of  my  company  have  done  as  traitors  and 
dogs,  for  which  they  shall  be  reproached  all  their  lives,  and  leave  a  shame- 
ful name  for  ever.'     He  died  on  the  second  or  third  day  after  his  capture. 

"  Though  Sir  Richard  Greenville  caimot  be  justified  for  entering  into 
the  action  in  which  he  lost  his  life,  he  supported  it  so  bravely,  that  he 
raised  the  character  of  the  British  navy,  and  thereby  well  entitled  himself 
to  the  place  which  he  continues  to  hold  in  its  annals.  His  death-scene 
stamped  his  character  in  the  minds  of  his  contemporaries  and  of  posterity; 
so  great  is  the  effect  of  any  one  virtue,  when  displayed  in  an  eminent 


ID  Hitieiy  «/  British  Costume, 

degree,  even  though  it  be  that  virtue  which  is  the  commonest,  as  belong* 
ing  sometime  wholly,  and  generally  in  great  part,  to  our  animal  nature, 
and  which  may  exist  with  little  to  ennoble,  and  nothing  to  adorn  it.  At 
that  time,  too,  a  better  moral  feeling  began  to  prevail  between  Spain  and 
England.  As  soon  as  it  was  open  war  between  the  two  countries,  the 
feeSng  of  hatred  gradually  softened  into  that  of  hostility.  On  the  part 
of  the  English  it  was  no  longer  a  private  quarrel,  in  which  individuals 
engaged  for  the  strong  desire  of  plunder,  or  the  stronger  appetite  for 
revenge ;  and  on  the  part  of  the  Spaniards  it  was  felt  that  they  were  not 
BOW  engaged  with  pirates,  but  with  national  enemies,  'who  were  entitled 
to  the  usages  of  fair  warfare.  On  both  sides  it  became  a  public  qvuurrek 
and  a  pubHc  cause.  And  though  there  was  still  too  much  opportunity 
bdA  scope  for  the  exercise  of  evil  passions,  generous  feelings  also  were 
called  into  action ;  and  each  nation  learnt  to  respect  the  characteristic 
virtues  of  the  other."— pp.  336—339. 


Art.  II.— T^ff  Library  of  Entertaining  Knowledge. — History  of  British 

Costume.    London:  Charles  Knight.     1834. 

The  history  of  costume  is  as  implortant  a  branch  of  antiquarian 
research  as  that  of  architecture,  or  any  other  order  of  anei^t 
things ;  because  it  is  as  illustrative  of  all  that  is  valuable  in  the 
past.  Our  eyes  have  dwelt  and  fed  on,  an  old  warrior's  moth-eaten 
coat,  with  a  more  insatiable  wonder  and  anxiety,  that  fain  would 
behold  and  know  aU  that  he  was  in  face,  figure,  and  bearing,  than 
ever  they  did  upon  the  apartment  in  which  he  died.  The  shape, 
and  the  material  of  the  garment,  in  some  measure  present  an  im* 
mediate  and  living  picture  of  the  departed.  We  embody  it  so  to 
speak,  with  his  identical  person,  and  when  we  touch  it,  it  is  as  if 
we  expected  the  substance  to  be  warm,  and  responsive  to  the  free- 
dom.  It  is  with  such  feelings  that  we  have  frequently  gased  upon 
Lord  Nelson's  threadbare  coat,  that  is  carefully  preserved  in  the 
Picture  Gallery  of  Greenwich  Hospital.  We  have  gazed  upon  it, 
till  it  seemed  to  move  with  the  heavings  and  pantings  of  the  bidden 
body ;  and  we  have  ui^consciously  ceased  to  speak,  half  afraid  of 
disturbing  the  ideal  personage. 

We  maintain,  that,  independent  of  antiquarian  associations,  ap- 
parel is  universally  looked  upon  as  the  closest  representative  of  him 
who  wore  it.  We  have  known  a  parent,  who  was  a  patten  of 
manly  virtues  and  sentiments,  preserve  his  composure  in  the  most 
trying  and  alarming  moments,  connected  with  the  sudden  death 
of  his  only  son,  till  the  removal  of  the  young  man's  clothes  (now 
no  more  to  be  used  by  their  accustomed  wearer)  from  their  wonted 
femiliar  place,  was  set  about,  when  the -swollen  tide  of  anguish 
burst  forth,  breaking  down  all  the  strong  holds  of  a  warm  and 
lofty  nature.  In  the  hurry  of  domestic  aiFairs,  during  the  young 
man's  short  illness,  there  had  not  been  time,  and  it  would  have 
been  unseemly,  ta  have  interfered  with  his  little  matters  ;  but  now 
all  was  over — he   was   no  more ;  his  fishing-rod  and  gun,  must 


Hkt&ry  of  BrUitk  Co9tmme.  1 1 

needs  be  careftdly  laid  out  of  the  way^  and  his  ai^fMret,  by  a  djring 
nrpmction  to  be  given  to  a  poor  boy  in  the  neighbourhood,  when- 
ever they  should  suit,  were  to  be  folded  and  locked  up.  The  fishings 
rod  and  the  gun,  the  bereaved  father  handled  freely; — but  it  was 
the  sight  of  the  cloaths  that  overwhelmed  him,  and  mastered  his 
heart.  And  perhaps  there  have  been  few  finer  and  more  affecting 
domestic  scenes  than  were  witnessed  twice  in  the  year  afterwards, 
when  his  father  sunned  the  bequeathed  apparel ;  the  simple  act 
estabhabed  periodically  a  mourn&l  and  solemn  day  of  commemo- 
latioii  in  that  femily.  « 

But  not  to  be  too  grave,  we  maintain,  that  a  knowledge  and  a 
tddte  in  dre^,  to  speak  only  of  contemporary  fariiions,  are  worthy  of 
coltivation,  inasiiittcih  as  these  will  be  pursued  with  a  corre- 
sponding advancement  in  much  higher  degaitments.  It  is,  there- 
foire,  that  dress  afibrdis  a  good  index  to  general  character.  All  the 
world  looks  to  such  an  index,  whatever  pretended  despisers  may 
say,  especially  in  the  case  of  a  young  man :  and  without  longer 
keeping  apart  from  the  contents  of  the  work  before  us.  we  declare, 
after  forty  years'  experience  of  the  thronging  world,  tnat  the  best 
feibws  in  £n^nd»  generally  speaking,  are  those  whom  the  vulgar 
or  the  enviottB  eall  puppies,  merely  from  a  remarkable  nicety  in  the 
cat  and  the  eolour  of  their  garments^ 

'  It  is,  however,  as  a  type  or  mirror  of  the  times,  that  the  know* 
ledge  of  costume^  therewith  connected,  becomes  chiefly  valuable. 
How  our  ancestors  dressed  may  in  itself  be  a  curious  rather  than 
useful  inquiry,  but  the  subject  when  used  as  a  handle,  evidence,  or 
groundwork,  becomes  as  important  and  serious  as  are  any  or  aU 
of  the  facts  that  can  be  thereon  fixed  or  built.  A  slight  attention 
to  the  matter  will  convince  any  one,  that  not  merely  the  painter, 
poet»  and  historian  are  concerned,  but  the  philosopher,  the  manu^ 
&eturer  and  tradesman^  are  deeply  interested  in  investigations  of 
the  sort,  which  the  worl^  before  us,  in  a  condensed,  lucid,  beautifiU 
and  delight&d  manner,  has  elucidated. 

The  author  goes  back  to  the  remotest  periods  of  British  history 
fiir  his  materials,  and  comes  down  to  the  present  generation,  giving 
a  separate  but  short  account  of  the  national  costumes  of  Scotland 
and  Ireland.  He  also,  throughout,  affords  much  light  upon  the 
armour  of  our  ancestors,  which  indeed  is  a  branch  so  necessarily 
interwoven  with  the  costume  of  every  warlike  people,  that  it  is  im- 
possible to  describe  the  one  without  the  other.  The  numerous 
woodcuts  that  embellish  the  volume  enable  the  reader  at  once  to 
go  along  with  the  author  in  his  narrative  and  enthusiasm,  and  we 
therefore  strongly  recommend  the  work  to  every  one  who  is  de- 
sirous of  having  a  lively  conception  of  English  history. 

The  first  extract  we  give  is  firom  the  reign  of  William  the  Con- 
qaexoTi  Here  are  suggestions  for  the  modem  professors  that  ope- 
rate upon  the  chin  : — 


12  HUtary  of  British  Costume. 

<*  The  degenerate  and  sensual  Saxons  imitated  the  fashions  of  tbeir 
neighbours,  but  were  incapable  of  copying  their  virtues,  and  we,  there- 
fore«  find  the  general  civil  costume  of  the  Normans  consisting,  like  the 
Anglo-Saxon,  of  the  short  tunic,  the  cloak,  the  drawers,  with  long 
stodcings,  or  pantaloons  with  feet  to  them»  called  by  the  Normans 

*  Chausses,*  by  which  term  we  beg  our  readers  to  observe  they  will  be 
henceforth  designated  throughout  the  work,  as  the  use  of  modecn  names 
for  ancient  habits  or  weapons  creates  considerable  confusion  in  dates  as 
well  as  ideas.  Shoes  and  leg-bandages  are  worn  as  before.  Short  boots 
are  also  common  towards  the  close  of  the  reign ;  and  a  flat  round  cap, 
like  a  Scotch  bonnet,  and  another,  which  appears  little  more  than  a  coif, 
kre  the  general  head  coverings  of  unarmed  persons.  In  state  dresses  the 
tunic  reaches  to  the  ancle,  and  the  mantle  is  ample  and  flowing  to  corre- 
spond. The  crown  of  the  monarch  is  scarcely  distinguishable  upon  his 
seal,   but  appears  to  resemble  that  of  the  Confessor.     Wace,   in  his 

*  Roman  de  Rou,'  describes  William  as  lacing  and  untying  his  cloak 
repeatedly  in  his  agitation  and  anger,  on  the  news  being  brought  him  of 
Harold's  accession  to  the  throne  of  England  ;  and  cords  and  tassels  are 
now  seen  attached  to  the  mantles  of  distinguished  personages.  We  have 
observed  them  already  in  the  drawing  of  Canute. 

*'  The  Normans  not  only  shaved  the  face  entirely^  in  contradistinction 
to  the  Anglo-Saxons,  who  left,  at  any  rate,  the  upper  lip  unshorn,  but 
before  the  time  of  the  Conquest  had  adopted  the  Aquitanian  fashion  of 
shaving  the  back  of  the  head  also,  which  occasioned  the  spies  of  Harold 
to  report  that  they  had  seen  no  soldiers,  but  an  army  of  priests  ?  This 
anecdote  has  been  quoted  by  all  the  historians,  as  proving  only  the 
absence  of  beard  and  moustache  amongst  the  Normans,  as  they  say  it  was 
considered  indecent  in  priests  to  wear  them ;  but  clerical  personages  are, 
notwithstanding,  continually  represented  at  this  period  with  both,  and 
the  absence  of  them,  therefore,  would  not  have  borne  out  the  reports  of 
the  spies,  but  for  the  other  singularity,  which  is  distinctly  represented  in 
the  Bayeux  tapestry,  and  one  of  the  strongest  proofs  of  its  authenticity. 
William  and  his  Normans  are  therein  distinguished  by  the  backs  ofiheir 
heads  being  eiosefy  shaven^  so  as  really  to  give  them  a  monkish  appear- 
ance, while  the  Saxons  are  represented  with  hair  as  usually  worn,  and 
moustaches,  as  described  by  William  of  Malmsbury,  and  a  few  with 
comely  beards. — pp.  64 — 56. 

In  the  reign  of  Henry  II.  a  new  and  most  valuable  source  of 
information  opens.  Monuinental  effigies  of  the  illustrious  dead 
from  that  period  remain.  That  of  the  above-named  monaich  in 
the  Abbey  of  Fontevraud,  in  Normandy^  has  frequently  been  de- 
scribed. It  was  the  custom  to  sculpture  them  in  their  habits  as 
they  lived,  and  in  a  style  far  more  correct  than  could  h«ve  been 
expected  in  an  age  so  dark.  They  were  sometimes  most  elaborately 
coloured  and  gilt,  and  all  of  the  frill  size  ;  and  sometimes  in  habit 
exactly  the  same  as  they  lay  in  state.  Matthew  Paris  says,  that 
Henry  II,  "was  an'ayed  in  the  royal  investments,  having  a  golden 
crown  on  the  head,  and  gloves  on  the  hands,  boots  wrought  with 
gold  on  the  feet,  and  spurs,  a  great  ring  on  the  finger>  and  a'sceptre 
in  the  hand,  and  girt  with  a  sword;  he  lay  with  his  face  uncovered.*' 


History  of  British  Costume.  13 

Thus  he  lay  in  state,  and  it  would  appear  that  thus  his  effigy 
was  habited. 

The  costume  during  the  reigns  of  Richard  I.  and  John  continued 
much  the  same  as  in  their  father's  time.  There  were  some  striking 
novelties  introduced  however  in  the  military  habits ;  especially,  the 
helmet  Ibst  its  lofty  cone,  and  subsided  into  a  flat-topped  steel  cap; 
the  shield  was  emblazoned  with  heraldic  bearings ;  customs  origi- 
nating probably  with  the  Crusaders.  Here  follows  our  author's 
acconnt  of  the  female  costumes  of  that  period : — 

'^  The  female  costume  of  this  century  presents  the  same  general  ap- 
pearance as  that  of  its  predecessors.  The  robe  has,  however,  lost  its 
extravagant  cuffs,  and  the  sleeves  are  made  tight  and  terminate  at  the 
wrist.  A  rich  girdle  loosely  encircles  the  waist,  and  Berengaria,  queen 
of  Richard  I.,  is  represented  with  a  small  pouch  called  an  auimoniire^ 
and  in  form  Ukc  a  modem  reticule,  depending  from  it  on  the  left  side. 

*'  Green  appears  to  have  been  the  prevailing  colour  of  this  garment  in 
the  reign  of  John.  We  have  the  king's  warrant  for  making  two  robes 
for  the  queen,  each  of  them  to  consist  of  five  ells  of  cloth,  and  one  of  them 
to  be  of  green  and  the  other  of  brunet.  Du  Cange  cites  a  cotemporary 
register  to  prove  that  a  green  robe,  lined  with  cendal,  was  estimated  at 
sixty  shillings;  and  Matthew  Paris,  and  other  ancient  historians,  speaking 
of  the  flight  of  Longchamp,  Bishop  of  Ely,  states  that  he  disguised  him- 
self in  a  woman's  tunic  of  green,  with  a  capa  (the  Norman  mantle  with 
a  capuchon)  of  the  same  colour. 

'*  State  robes  and  mantles  appear  to  have  been  splendidly  embroidered. 
The  effigy  of  Eleanor,  queen  oi  Henry  11.,  exhibits  a  robe  and  mantle 
covered  with  golden  crescents.  We  have  just  spoken  of  a  similar  one  in 
the  possession  of  her  son,  Richard  I.  Her  crown,  like  that  of  her  royal 
husband,  has  been  broken.  Montfaucon's  representation  of  it  is  there-, 
fore  placed  above  the  figure,  but  that  of  Queen  Berengaria,  which  has 
escaped  with  less  damage,  would  be  perhaps  the  better  guide  for  its  re- 
storation.    Montfaucon's  copies  are  lamentably  incorrect. 

"  Pelisses  (peUces^pelissons^jXiMj  furred  rwhence  their  name), were 
worn  i^  winter  under  the  mantle  or  capa.  King  John  orders  a  grey 
pelisson,  with  nine  bars  of  fur,  to  be  made  for  the  queen.  It  appears  to 
have  been  a  dress  fitting  close  to  the  body.  A  garment  called  hUaiU  or 
bUauSy  which  appears  to  have  been  only  another  name  for  the  surcoat  or 
supertunic,  as  we  find  it  worn  also  by  knights  over  their  armour,  is  also 
frequently  mentioned  as  lined  with  fur  for  the  winter.  The  wimple  is 
first  mentioned  in  the  reig^  of  John.  It  appears  to  have  been  sometimes 
but  another  name  for  the  veil  or  kerchief,  at  others  a  separate  article  of 
attire  worn  under  the  .veil,  as  in  the  conventual  costume  to  this  day, 
whkh  is  in  all  but  colour  the  usual  dress  of  the  thirteenth  century.  The 
wimple,  properly  so  called,  wrapped  round  the  head  an4  the  chin,  and  waa 
bound  on  the  forehead  by  a  golden  or  jewelled  fillet  amongst  the  wealthy, 
by  a  plain  single  one  amongst  the  humbler  classes.  Wimples  and  fillets 
01  silk  were  forbidden  to  the  nuus,  who  wore  them  then,  as  now.  of  white, 
linen. 

'•  Short  boots  were  worn,  as  well  as  shoes,  by  the  ladies.  King  John 
orders  four  pair  of  women's  boots,  one  of  them  to  be  fretatus  de  giris^ 
embroidered  with  circles,  atid  several  instances  occur  of  similarly  em- 


14  Hiftwy  of  Bntish  Costume. 

kmdered  boots  at  ithit  period,  but  tho  robe  was  worn  so  long  that  little 
but  the  tips  of  the  toes  are  to  be  seen  in  the  effigies  or  illunninations,  and 
the  colour  of  as  much  as  is  visible  in  the  latter  is  generally  black. 

**  Gloves  seem  not  to  have  been  generally  worn  by  ladies  of  the 
twelfth  century."— pp.  88—90. 

The  habits  of  the  d^gy  daring  the  same  era  are  thus  al- 
luded to: — 

"  The  habits  of  the  clergy  continued  exceedingly  sumptuous.  The 
princely  splendour  of  Becket  occasioned  the  French  rustics  to  exclaim, 
during  his  progress  to  Paris,  ^  What  a  wonderful  personage  the  King  of 
England  must  be,  if  his  Chancellor  can  travel  in  such  state!*  and  the 
aocounts  of  his  magnificence  in  that  city  are  so  extraordinary,  that  Lord 
Littleton,  in  his  History  of  Henry  IL,  declares  them  to  be  incredible. 
The  story  of  Henry's  struggle  widi  Be9ket  in  the  open  street,  when  the 
monarch  pulled  the  new  scarlet  capa,  lined  with  rich  furs,  from  the  back 
of  the  priest,  to  give  to  the  shivering  beggar  beside  him,  is  told  by  every 
historian;  but  these  are  only  notices  of  his  secular  garments.  In  the 
sacred  vestments  of  the  clergy  of  this  period,  the  principal  novelty  is  the 
approach  of  the  mitre  to  the  form  with  which  we  are  familiar.'^ — 
pp.  dO,  9L 

And  in  the  reign  of  Henry  IIL  this  further  notice  is  given  :— 

*'  The  richly  embroidered  garments  of  the  clergy  at  this  period  occa* 
sioned  Innocent  IV.  to  exclaim,  '  O  England,  thou  garden  of  delights, 
thou  art  truly  an  inexhaustible  fountain  of  riches  I  From  thy  abundance 
much  may  be  exacted  !'  and  he  forthwith  proceeded  to  exact  as  much  aa 
he  could,  by  forwarding  bulls  to  several  English  prelates,  enjoining  them 
to  send  a  certain  quantity  of  such  embroidered  vestments  to  Rome  for 
the  use  of  the  clergy  there.  Some  of  these  sacerdotal  habits  were  nearly 
covered  with  gold  and  precious  stones,  and  others  were  exquisitelf« 
embroidered  with  figures  of  animals  and  flowers.  The  red  hat  is  said  to* 
have  been  first  given  to  the  cardinals  by  Pope  Innocent  at  the  (Council  of 
Lyons  in  1245;  and,  according  to  De  Curbio,  they  wore  it  for  the  first 
time  in  1246,  on  occasion  of  an  interview  between  the  Pope  and  Louis 
IX.  of  France."— pp.  101, 102. 

The  author's  notice  of  Edward  I.  is  Very  just.  That  monarch 
was  indeed  both  chivalrous  and  temperate ;  hostile,  from  all  we  can 
judge,  to  preposterous  fashions  and  foppery.  He  studied  simplicity 
of  cu'ess,  and  though  there  is  no  monumental  effigy  df  him,  we  can 
perhaps  form  a  very  correct  notion  of  the  man ;  and  not  the  less 
so,  from  the  circumstance  just  mentioned,  following  out  by  a  sort 
of  contrariety,  a  determinate  class  of  ideas,  supported  by  the  facts 
that  came  to  light  on  the  opening  of  bis  tomb  in  Westminster,  in 
the  year  1774.  His  corpse  was  then  discovered,  we  are  told,  ar- 
ranged in  a  dalmatica  or  tanic  of  red  silk  damask,  and  a  mantle  of 
crimson  satin  fastened  on  the  shoulder,  with  a  gilt  buckle  or  clasp 
four  inches  in  length,  and  decorated  with  imitative  gems  and  pearls. 
The  sceptre  was  in  his  hand ;  but  the  regal  ornaments  were  all  of 
metal  gUt,  and  the  stones  and  pearls  false. 


HUtoryof  BiMah  Costuwke.  15 

Edward  II.  had  a  iroublesome  reign,  but  luxury  incoeised. 
Fjom  his  efiigy,  it  appears  that  he  cherished  and  curled  his  beard ; 
and  it  is  related  of  him,  that  he  had  to  endure  the  indignity  of 
having  it  shaved  with  cold  and  dirty  water  by  the  road-side  on  his 
way  to  Carnarvon  Castle.  The  principal  event  in  the  history  of 
British  costume  connected  with  this  reign^  is  that  lawyers  begin  to 
be  distinguished  by  their  habits.  "  They  were  originally  priests, 
and  of  course  wore  the  tonsure,  but  M^hen  the  clergy  were  lorbidden 
to  intermeddle  with  secular  affairs,  the  lay  lawyers  continued  the 

fractice  of  shaving  the  head,  and  wore  the  coil  for  distiaction  sake, 
t  was  at  first  made  of  linen,  and  afterwards  of  white  silk.  The 
serjeant-at-law's  habit  anciently  was  a  long  priest-like  robe  lined 
with  fur,  and  a  white  linen  coif." 

In  the  following  reign  important  alterations  took  place  in  dress. 

*'  The  reign  of  Edward  III.  is  one  of  the  most  important  eras  in  the 
history  of  costume.  The  complete  changes  that  take  place  in  every 
habit,  civil  or  military,  render  its  effigies  and  illuminations  more  distinctly 
conspicuous  than  those  perhaps  of  any  other  period,  from  the  Conquest  to 
the  days  of  Elizabeth.  The  effigy  of  this  great  monarch  is  remarkable 
for  its  noble  simplicity.  The  number  of  the  royal  vestments  does  not 
exceed  that  of  his  predecessors,  but  their  form  is  rather  different.  The 
dalmatica  is  lower  in  the  neck  and  shorter  in  the  sleeves  than  the  under 
tonic,  and  the  sleeves  of  the  latter  come  lower  than  the  wrist,  and  are 
deeorated  by  a  closely-set  row  of  very  small  buttons,  the  continuation  of 
a  ^hion  of  the  reign  of  Edward  I.  His  shoes  or  buskins  are  richly 
embroidered,  and  his  hair  and  beard  are  patriarchal.  He  bears  the 
remains  of  a  sceptre  in  each  hand ;  the  crown  has  been  removed  or  lost 
Imn  the  effigy. 

"In  the  thirty-seventh  year  of  his  reign,  A.D.  1363^  the  Commons 
exhibited  a  complaint  in  Parliament  against  the  general  usage  of  expen- 
sive apparel  hot  suited  either  to  the  degree  or  income  of  the  people ;  and 
an  act  was  passed  by  which  the  following  regulations  were  insisted  upon : 

"  Furs  of  ermine  and  lettice,  and  embellishments  of  pearls,  excepting 
for  a  head-dress,  were  strictly  forbidden  to  any  but  the  royal  family,  and 
nobles  possessing  upwards  of  one  thousand  poimds  per  annum. 

**'  Cloths  of  gold  and  silver,  and  habits  embroidered  with  jewellery, 
lined  with  pure  miniver  and  other  expensive  furs,  were  permitted  only 
to  knights  and  ladies  whose  incomes  exceeded  four  hundred  marks  yearly. 

"^  Knights  whose  income  exceeded  two  hundred  marks,  or  squires  pos- 
sessing two  hundred  pounds  in  lands  or  tenements,  were  permitted  to 
wear  cloth  of  silver,  with  ribands,  girdles,  &c.,  reasonably  embellished 
with  silver,  and  woollen  cloth,  of  the  value  of  six  marks  the  whole 
pece;  but  all  persons  under  the  rank  of  knighthood;  or  of  less  property 
than  the  last  mentioned,  were  confined  to  the  use  of  cloth  not  exceeding 
four  marks  the  whole  piece,  and  were  prohibited  wearing  silks  and 
embnndered  garments  of  any  sort,  or  embellishing  their  apparel  with 
any  kind  of  ornaments  of  gold,  silver,  or  jewellery.  Rings,  buckles, 
ouches,  girdles,  and  ribands,  were  all  forbidden  decorations  to  them,  and 
the  Denalty  annexed  to  the  infringement  of  this  statute  was  the  forfeiture 
of  tne  dress  or  ornament  so  made  or  worn. 


16  History  of  British  CoUumtt. 

'*  The  Scots  had  a  rhyme  about  this  period,  which  ran  thus : — 

*•  Long  belrdfl  hertiless, 
Peynted  hoods  witless, 
Qay  ootes  gracdess, 
Maketli  Englonde  thrifttess ; ' 

And  we  accordingly  find  the  beard  worn  long  and  pointed;  and  capuchons, 
with  long  peaks,  tails,  or  tippets,  as  they  were  called,  hanging  behind,  and 
closely  buttoned  up  to  the  chin  in  front.  The  *  gay  cotes  graceless '  are 
the  splendidly  embroidered  cotehardies  already  described,  and  which  it 
was  considered  by  the  graver  and  ojder  nobility  as  foppish  and  degrading 
to  wear.*'— pp.  127—131. 

We  are  not  attempting  by  any  means  to  follow  the  author  rega- 
larly  or  minutely  in  the  progress  of  changes^  throughout  the  suc- 
cessive reigns  of  England's  monarchs.  We  only  fix  therefore  on 
the  most  remarkable  alterations  or  innovations.  Of  the  ladies' 
habits^  one  thing  generally  may  be  said,  that  they  were  exceedingly 
extravagant  and  sumptuous,  and  that  many  of  then:  modes,  as 
represented  by  the  author,  would  be  well  worth  the  notice  of  the 
inventors  of  novelties  in  these  modem  times,  when  racking  their 
brains  how  best  to  deck  the  fair. 

The  author  has  taken  notice,  at  considerable  length,  of  the  long- 
disputed  origin  of  the  famous  "  Prince  of  Wales  feathers,"  and  the 
no  less  famous  epithet  of  "  Black  Prince,"  by  which  the  hero  of 
Cressy  and  Poictiers  was  distinguished.  It  would  appear  that 
there  is  much  uncertainty  on  these  matters ;  and  the  German  motto 
^*  Ich  dien,"  generally  rendered  **  I  serve,"  has  not  tended  to  ehxci- 
date  any  part  of  the  subject.  The  absurdity  is,  in  absence  of  un- 
doubtea  authority,  the  seeking  for  marvellous  or  mighty  origins  for 
things,  ''that  caprice,  some  most  trifling  circumstance,  or  quaint 
conceit,"  may  after  all  have  alone  suggested.  The  popular  tradi- 
tion which  assigns  the  motto,  "  Honi  soit  qui  mal  y  pense,"  to  the 
gallant  indignation  of  the  mozuurch,  when  sneered  at  by  his  cour- 
tiers, on  account  of  his  attention  to  the  £all  of  a  lady's  garter,  is 
equally  destitute  of  evidence.  High  authorities  consider  tiie  garter 
afi  a  symbol  of  union,  and  to  this  or  something  else,  then,  should  be 
attibuted  the  popular  version  of  the  motto  of  the  most  noble  Order 
of  the  Garter,  which  was  instituted  in  the  twenty-second  year  of 
Edward  the  Third's  reign.  The  author,  however,  mentions  one 
ascertained  and  particular  costume  of  this  period. 

**  Mourning  habits  first  appeared  in  monuments  &nd  illuminations  of 
this  reign;  and  the  earliest  mention  of  them  also  seems  to  be  by  Chaucer 
and  Froissart,  both  writers  of  this  period.  Chaucer,  in  his  '  Knight'a 
Tale,'  speaks  of  Palamon's  appearing  at  Arcite's  funeral 

<(  <  In  clothes  black  dropped  all  viUi  tears ;' 
and  in  his  *  Troylus  and  Cresedye '  he  describes  his  heroine 

<'  '  In  widdowe's  fanbit  lai^ge  of  samite  brown ;' 

and  in  another  place  says, 

**  *  Creysede  was  in  widowe's  habit  blacka* 


Hitftory  of  BritUh  Costvme.  1 7 

and  in  another,  when  separating. from  Troylus,  he  makes  her  aay, 


<(  ( 


-my  dotkce  evereh  one 


Shall  blacke  ben  in  tolequyn  (token,)  herte  s^ete. 
That  I  am  as  oute  of  this  worlde  agone.* 

Froissart  tells  us,  that  the  Earl  of  Foix,  on  hearing  of  the  death  of  his 
son  Graston,  sent  for  his  barber,  and  was  close  shaved,  and  clothed  himself 
and  all  his  household  in  black.  At  the  funeral  of  the  Earl  of  Flanders, 
he  says,  all  the  nobles  and  attendants  wore  black  gowns ;  and  on  the  death 
of  John,  King^of  France,  the  King  of  Cyprus  clothed  himself  in  black 
mourning,  by  which  distinction  it  would  seem  that  some  other  colours 
were  occasionally  worn,  such  as  the  *  samite  brown '  of  Chaucer's  Cre- 
sey^^.  The  figures  on  the  tomb  of  Sir  Roger  de  Kerdeston,  who  died 
A..D.  1337,  represent  the  relations  of  the  deceased  knight,  and  wear  their 
own  coloured  clothes  under  the  mourning  cloak." — ^p.  148. 

In  Richard  11. 's  reign  foppery  made  a  great  figure^  he  himself 
taking  the  lead ;  his  coat  was  estimated  at  thirty  thousand  marks. 
The  common  people  imitated  the  vanity  of  the  rich.  The  effigy 
of  Henry  IV.  is  the  most  splendid,  we  are  told,  of  our  regal  series. 
He  enacted  sumptuary  laws,  in  the  fourth  year  of  his  sovereignty, 
limiting  and  directing  the  ornaments  and  dresses  to  be  worn  by 
particular  classes.  But  these  laws,  as  had  been  found  under  his 
predecessors,  were  of  little  avail.  In  Henry  V.'s  reign  no  impor- 
tant akerati<ms  took  place  in  dress.  The  next  king's  history  was 
distiiigaished  by  disorder  in  the  state,  and  no  less  irregularity  in 
the  fashions.  But  in  this  reign  the  invention  of  cannon  led  to 
most  important  changes  in  war&re,  and  ultimately  to  as  great  alte- 
itttions  in  various  other  departments.  For  our  sporting  readers 
irho  can  kill  right  and  left,  we  quote  an  account  of  the  hand- 
cannon. 

**  The  first  token  of  a  most  important  change  in  warfare  became  visible 
during  the  reign  of  Henry  VI.  The  invention  of  cannon  had  suggested 
to  the  Italians  the  use  that  might  be  made  of  a  piece  of  ordnance  small 
enough  to  be  portable,  and  the  hand-cannon  or  gouTie,  a  simple  iron  tube 
with  trunnions,  at  its  sides,  and  a  touch-hole  atop,  was  fixed  in  a  stock  of 
wood  about  a  cubit  and  a  half  in  length,  and  called  the  frame  of  the  gun. 
It  was  soon  however  discovered  that,  while  the  touch-hole  remained  atop, 
the  priming  was  likely  to  fall  off  or  be  blown  away  before  the  match  could 
jbe  applied ;  the  perforation  was  con:.equently  transferred  to  the  side,  a^d 
a  small  pan  put  under  it  to  hold  the  powder.  A  cover  for  the  pan  was 
next  invented  to  turn  off  and  on  by  means  of  a  pivot,  and  in  this  stage  it 
was  used  in  England,  certainly  as  early  as  1446,  as  appears  from  a  roll  of 
poichases  for  the  castle  on  Holy  Island,  in  the  county  of  Durham,  of  that 
date. 

*"■  A  hand-cannon  of  the  earliest  sort  with  the  touch-hole  atop,  and  a 
battle-axe  with  a  hand-g^n  united  and  the  touch  hole  placed  above  a  pan 
at  the  side,  are  in  the  armoury  at  Goodrich  Court." — p.  1 97- 

We  hasten  forward,  and  at  once  come  to  Henry  VII. 

"  At  length  we  have  emerged  into  the  broad  light  of  day.     The  pencils 
•f  Holbein,  of  Rubens,  and  Vandyke  will  henceforth  speak  volumes  to  the 
VOL.  III.  (1834.)  NO.  I.  c 


18  ffittory  of  British  Costume. 

eye,  and  lighten  the  labou»  of  the  pen.  With  this  reign  we  bid  adieu 
to  monumental  efBgies  and  illuminated  MSS.  Not  without  gratitude, 
however,  for  the  services  they  have  rendered  us  through  ages  of  darkness 
and  difficulty — i;hrough  scenes  of  barbaric  magnificence,  which,  however 
dimly  they  hiave  been  shadowed  forth,  have  vet  considerably  illustrated 
the  periods  of  their  action,  and  which  must  either  have  remained  in  'total 
eclipse — ^no  sun,  no  moon '  existing — ^no  gleam  but  the  imperfect  and 
perplexing  one  of  written  description,  or  rather  accidental  allusion  in 
obscure  and  obsolete  language,  frequently  capable  of  twenty  different 
interpretations. 

*'  The  elegant  fuhion  of  slashing  makes  its  appearance  about  this  time, 
and  the  opening  of  the  sleeve  at  the  elbow,  first  observable  in  the  costomes 
of  the  reign  of  Edward  IV.,  has  introduced  another  curious  fancy,  the  com- 
plete division  of  the  sleeve  into  two  or  more  pieces,  and  their  attachment 
to  each  other  by  means  of  points  or  laces  through  which  the  shirt  is  seen 
puffed  and  protruding. 

*'  The  hood  is  now  rapidly  disappearing.  Broad  felt  hats  or  caps,  and 
bonnets  of  velvet,  fiir,  and  other  materials,  with  a  profusion  of  party- 
coloured  plumes  projecting  sideways,  or  drooping  in  graceful  negligence 
over  the  shoulder,  have  become  general'towaxds  the  close  of  this  reign 
amongst  the  great  and  gay.  These  hats  and  caps,  many  of  them  with 
embattled  or  escalloped  edges,  are  worn  so  much  on  one  side  as  to  disco- 
ver on  the  other  a  considerable  portion  of  an  under  cap  of  gold  network, 
or  embroidered  velvet,  fitting  close  to  the  head.  The  large  plumed  cap 
iff  frequently  slung  behind  the  back  as  an  ornament,  and  the  head  sur- 
mounted, for  we  cannot  say  covered,  by  one  about  the  size  of  a  blue-coat 
boy's,  or  by  the  gold  net  before  mentioned.  One  cap,  peculiar  to  this 
period,  is  still  visible  upon  the  heads  of  the  knaves  in  our  playing  cavde ; 
and  a  pack  of  cards  in  the  possession  of  Francis  Douce,  Esq.,  F.S.A.,  en- 
graved and  printed  about  this  period,  probably  by  Marten  Schoen,  a  cele- 
brated German  artist,  who  died  in  1523,  exhibits  some  curious  and  ele- 
gant costume  of  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  century. 

'*  The  shoes  were  now  worn  as  absiuxlly  broad  at  the  toes  as  they 
were  previously  peaked  or  pointed.  The  new  fashion  is  said  to  have 
commenced  in  Flanders  about  1470.  Paradin  says  that  the  two-feet  long 
poulaines  were  succeeded  by^'shoes  denominated  duck-bills,  the  toes  being 
so  shaped,  but  still  four  or  five  fingers  in  length ;  and  that  afterwards  they 
assumed  a  contrary  fiashion,  wearing  slippers  so  very  broad  in  front  as  to 
exceed  the  measure  of  a  good  foot. 

^'  The  hair  was  worn  enormously  long  and  flowing — a  return,  in  fact, 
to  the  &shion  of  Henry  I.'s  time.  The  face  was  still  closely  shaved, 
soldiers  and  old  men  only  wearing  moustaches  or  beards." — pp.  219 
—223. 

Everv  one  knows  the  images  of  "  Bluff  King  Hal/'  and  his  son 
Edwura ;  nor,  as  the  author  tells  us,  can  we  be  at  a  loss  to  know 
the  style  of  female  costume  at  any  period  of  Henrv's  reign,  since 
he  married  six  wives,  prints  of  whom  are  now  abundant. 

**  Hall  the  chronicler,  who  revels  in  the  descripticm  of  the  Sfdendid 
^hows  and  pageants  of  all  ages,  and  describes  with  as  much  minuteness 
and  confidence  those  which  took  place  in  the  fourteenth  as  he  does  those 
of  which  he  was  an  eye-witness  in  the  sixteenth  century,  may  be  trusted 


Htstory  of  British  Costume,  19 

respecting  the  latter,  at  least  as  far  as  suits  our  purpose.  At  a  banquet 
given  in  the  first  year  of  Henry's  reign,  upon  Slu-oTe-Sunday,  in  the  par- 
liament-chamber at  Westminster/he  speaks  of  six  ladies  who  formed  part 
of  a  show  towards  the  close  of  the  evening,  *  whereof  two  were  appa- 
reyled  in  crimson  satyn  and  purpull,  embrowdered  with  golde,  and  by 
vynettes  ran  floure  de  lices  of  golde,  with  marvellous  ryche  and  strange 
tires  on  their  heads :  other  two  ladies  in  crimos]m  and  purpull,  made  l£e 
long  slops,  en^broudered  and  fretted  with  golde  after  the  antique  fascion, 
and  over  the  slop  was  a  shorte  garment  of  clothe  of  golde,  scant  to  the 
knee,  fisu^ioned  like  a  tabard,  all  over  with  small  double  roUes,  all  of  flatte 
golde,  of  damask  fret  and  fringed  golde,  and  on  their  heads  skaynea 
(scarfr),  and  wraj^rs  of  damaske  golde  with  flatte  pypes,  that  strange  it 
waa  to  beholde ;  the  other  two  ladies  were  in  kirtles  of  crymosyne  and 
purpull  sa^rn,  embroudered  with  a  vynet  of  pcHnegranattes  of  golde ;  all 
the  garments  cut  compass-wise,  having  demy  sleeves,  and  naked  down 
from  the  elbows' — (the  first  appearance  of  bare  arms  since  the  time  of 
the  ancient  Britons) — ^  and  over  their  garments  were  vochettea  of  pie- 
saunces  rolled  with  crymsvne  velvet  and  set  with  letters  of  golde  like 
caractes  (query  characters  ?).  Their  heades  rouled  in  pleasauntes  and 
t3rppets  like  the  Egipicians,  embroudered  with  golde ;  their  faces,  necks, 
arms,  an^  handes  covered  in  fine  plesaunce  black ;  some  call  it  lumber- 
dynes,  which  is  marveylous  thinne  ;  so  the  same  ladies  seemed  to  be 
nigroat  or  blackmores.'  What  are  the  descriptions  of  the  court-newsman 
in  our  days  to  this  ?  What  joy  for  *  the  Morning  Post '  or  the  '  Court 
Journal '  to  have  their  columns  filled  with  a  report  of  the  dresses  worn 
at  such  a  fancy  ball  as  this  given  at  Westminster  in  1609,  'for  all  the  am^ 
basaadours  which  were  here  out  of  diverse  realmes  and  countries.'  "-^ 
pp.  247, 248. 

Oor  readers  will  easily  take  up  the  description  of  certain  parts 
of  dress,  feshionable  daring  the  reigns  of  Edward  VI.  and  Mary, 
from  the  following  allusions : — 

*«  The  reigns  of  Edward  VI.  and  Mary  introduce  us  to  the  small  flat 
round  bonnet  worn  on  one  side  the  head,  and  preserved  to  this  day  in  the 
eapa  of  the  boys  of  Christ's  Hospital,  whose  whole  dress  is  indeed  the 
coatume  of  the  citizens  of  London  at  the  time  of  the  foundation  of  that 
charity  by  the  young  and  amiable  Edward.  Blue  coats  were  the  common 
habit  of  apprentices  and  serving-men,  and  yellow  stockings  were  very 
generally  worn  at  this  period.  The  jackets  of  our  firemen  and  watermen 
are  also  of  this  date,  the  badge  being  made  in  metal  and  placed  on  the 
sleeve  in  the  sixteenth  century,  instead  of  embroidered  on  the  breast  or 
hack  of  the  garment  itself  as  previously.  Minstrels,  players,  and  all  re- 
'tainers  of  the  nobility  were  thus  attired." — pp.  251,  262. 

Bnt  a  nobler  subject  is  at  band,  and  as  the  anthor  says,  ^'  the 
great  ruff  of  good  Queen  Bess  rises  up  indignantly  at  the  bare  idea 
of  being  unknown  or  iforgotten.^' 

**  About  the  middle  of  this  reign  the  great  change  took  place  that  gave 
the  female  costume  of  the  sixteenth  century  its  remarkable  ohars^r. 
The  body  was  imprisoned  in  whalebone  t:  3  the  hips  :  the  partelet,  whieii 
eawgrad  the  neck  to  the  chin,  was  removed,  and  an  enormous  ruff,  rising 
gradually  from  the  front  of  the  shoulders  to  nearly  the  height  of  the  head 

c2 


20  History  of  Bntisk  Costume, 

behind,  encircled  the  wearer  like  the  nimbus  or  glory  of  a  saint.  FVom 
the  bosom,  now  partially  discovered,  descended  an  interminable  stomacher, 
on  each  side  of  which  jutted  out  horizontally  the  enormous  vardingale^ 
the  prototype  of  that  modern-antique,  the  hoop,  which  has  been  so  lately 
banished  the  court,  to  the  great  joy  of  all  classes  of  his  majesty's  subjects 
saving  only  the  metropolitan  dressmakers.  The  cap  or  coif  was  occa- 
9ionally  exchanged  for  a  round  bonnet  like  that  of  the  men,  or  the  hair 
dressed  in  countless  curls,  and  adorned  with  ropes  and  stars  of  jewels,  and 
at  the  close  of  the  reign  (for  the  first  time)  with  feathers.** — pp.  256,  257. 

We  are  told  by  the  author,  that,  in  1564,  Mistress  Dinghana 
Vander  Plasse,  a  Fleming,  came  to  London  with  her  husband,  and 
followed  the  profession  of  a  starcher  of  rutk.  She  met  with  the 
greatest  encouragement  from  the  higher  orders,  and  taught  publicly 
her  art,  her  price  being  four  or  five  pounds  for  each  scholar,  and 
twenty  shillings  in  addition  for  teaching  them  how  to  seethe  or 
make  the  starch.  But  our  readers  must  have  the  following  treat, 
as  served  up  by  the  author  himself. 

**Stubb  falls  foul  of  this '  liquid  matter  which  they  call  starch,'  wherein 
he  says  ^  the  devil  hath  learned  them  to  wash  and  dive  their  ruffs,  which 
being  dry  will  then  stand  stiff  and  inflexible  about  their  necks.'  It  was 
made  he  tells  us  of  wheat  flour,  bran,  or  other  grains,  sometimes  of  roots 
aitd  other  things,  and  of  all  colours  and  hues,  as  white,  red,  blue,  purple, 
and  the  like..  He  mentions  also  a  certain  device  made  of  wires,  crested 
for  the  purpose,  and  whipped  all  over  either  with  gold,  thread,  silver,  or 
silk,'  for  supporting  these  ruffs,  and  called  a  ^suppertasse  or  under-proper.' 
These  *  great  ruffs  or  neckerchers,  made  of  hollande,  lawne,  cambric,  and 
such  cloth,'  so  delicate  that  the  greatest  thread  in  them  '  shall  not  be  so 
big  as  the  least  hair  that  is,'  starched,  streaked,  dried,  patted,  and  under- 
propped by  the  suppertasses, '  the  stately  arches  of  pride,'  sometimes  over- 
shadowed three  or  four  orders  of  minor  ruffs  placed  gradatim  one  beneath 
the  other,  and  all  under  '  the  master-devil  ruff,'  which  was  itself  clogged 
with  gold,  silver,  or  silk  lace  of  stately  price,  wrought  all  over  with  needle- 
work, speckled  and  sparkled  here  and  there  with  the  sun,  the  moon,  the 
stars,  and  many  other  antiques  strange  to  behold  :  some  are  wrought  with 
open  work  down  to  the  midst  of  the  ruff  and  further ;  some  with  close 
work  ;  some  with  purlid  lace  and  other  gegaws,  so  clogged,  so  pestered, 
that  the  ruff  is  the  least  part  of  itself.  Sometimes  they  are  pinned  up  to 
their  ears,  and  sometimes  they  are  suffered  to  hang  over  the  shoulders 
like  flags  or  windmill  sails  fluttering  in  the  air. 

"  Their  gowns,  continues  the  satirist,  be  no  less  famous  than  the  rest, 
for  some  are  of  silk,  some  of  velvet,  some  oi  grograin^  some  of  taffata,  some 
of  scarlet,  and  some  of  fine  cloth,  of  ten,  twenty,  or  forty  shillings  the 
yard;  but  if  the  whole  garment  be  not  of  silk  or  velvet,  then  the  same 
must  be  layed  w^ith  Ince  two  or  three  fingers  broad  all  over  the  gown ;  or 
if  lace  is  not  fine  enough  for  them,  he  says  they  must  be  decorated  with 
broad  gardes  of  velvet  edged  with  costly  lace.  The  fashions  too  of  the 
gown  were  as  various  as  its  colours,  and  '  changing  with  the  moon ;  for 
some  be  of  the  new  fashion,  and  some  of  the  olde ;  some  with  sleev^i 
hanging  down  to  the  skirts  trailing  on  the  ground,  and  cast  over  their 
shoulders  like  cow- tails ;  some  have  sleeves  much  shorter,  cut  up  the  arm. 


History  of  British  Costume,  21 

drawn  out  with  sundry  colours,  and  pointed  with  silk  ribbands,  and  very 
gallantly  tied  with  Ioyq  knotts,  for  so  they  call  them/  Some  had  capes 
reaching  down  to  the  middle  of  their  backs  faced  with  velvet  or  ^ne 
taffata,  and  *  fringed  about  very  bravely ;'  others  were  plaited  and  crested 
down  the  back  '  wonderfully,  with  more  knacks '  than  he  can  express. 

"  Their  petticoats,  he  says,  were  of  the  best  cloth  and  the  finest  die, 
and  even  of  silk,  grograin,  &c.,  fringed  about  the  skirts  with  silk  of  a 
changeable  colour.  *  But  what  is  more  vain,*  he  adds,  '  of  whatever  the 
petticoat  be,  yet  must  they  have  kirtles^  for  so  they  call  them,  of  silk, 
velvet,  grograin,  taffata,  satin,  or  scarlet,  bordered  with  gards,  lace,  fringe, 
and  T  cannot  tell  what.'  Here  the  kirtle  is  again  distinguished  from  the 
gown  and  petticoat,  and  is  evidently  the  garment  worn  immediately  under 
the  gown,  and  at  this  time  completely  discovered  by  it,  the  skirt  or  train 
of  the  gown  or  robe  being  only  just  visible  on  each  side  of  the  figure. 

"  The  nether  stocks  or  stockings,  we  are  told,  were  of  silk,  jarnsey, 
worsted,  cruel,  or  the  finest  yarn,  thread  or  cloth  that  could  possibly  be 
had;  and  they  were  'not  ashamed  to  wear  hose  of  all  kinds  of  changeable 
colours,  as  green,  red,  white,  russet,  tawney,  and  else  what  not  * — ^'cun- 
ningly knit'  too,  and  'curiously  indented  in  every  point  with  quirks, 
cloeks,  open  seams,  and  every  thing  else  accordingly.'  " — pp.  258 — 260. 

We  dare  not  indulge  our  friends  with  more  of  this  quaint  satir* 
ist's  matter ;  for  ere  he  reached  the  lords  of  the  creation,  he  is 
allowed  by  our  author  to  say  something  more  of  the  ladies  of 
Elizabeth's  time.  We  jump  at  once  to  the  reign  of  Charles  I.,  and 
give  the  following  extrf^ct  chiefly  for  the '  judicious  criticism  con- 
tained in  it. 

*'  The  reign  of  Charles  I.,  1625 — 1648«  introduces  us  to  the  most  ele- 
gant and  picturesque  costiune  ever  worn  in  England,  and,  from  the  cir- 
cumstance of  its  being  the  habit  of  the  time  in  which  Vandyke  painted, 
it  has  acquired  the  appellation  of  the  Vandyke  dress.  It  has  been  fami- 
liarized to  us  not  only  by  the  numberless  prints  from  the  works  of  that 
great  master,  but  through  the  medium  of  theatrical  representations,  being, 
of  all  costumes,  perhaps  the  best  adapted  for  the  stage,  and  therefore  gene- 
rally selected  for  such  plays  as  are  not  fixed  by  their  subject  to  some  other 
particular  era.  For  the  same  reason,  with  pardonable  licence,  playa 
founded  on  inddents  of  the  reign  of  Charles  II.  are  acted  in  costumes. of 
the  reign  of  Charles  I. ;  but  the  point  was  rather  stroined  by  the  late  Mr. 
Kemble,  who  formed  out  of  the  habits  of  the  three  reigns  of  Elizabeth, 
James,  and  Charles  a  conventional  costume  for  the  whole  of  Shakspeare*s 
historical  plays,  from  King  John  to  Henry  VIII.  The  intention  was, 
however,  a  laudable  one.  Mr.  Garrick  had  broken  ground,  by  assuming 
a  fancy  dress  for  the  part  of  Richard  III.,  but  he  played  Macbeth  to  the 
last  in  a  codrt  suit  of  sky-blue  and  scarlet  laced  with  gold.  Mr.  Kemble^s 
good  sense  and  determined  spirit  induced  him  to  reform  this  altogether ; 
and  though,  to  the  antiquary,  it  was  as  ridiculous  to  see  the  *  gracious 
Duncan*  in  trunk-hose  as  in  velvet  breeches  and  silk  stockings,  the 
absurdity  was  not  so  striking  to  the  million,  and  stage  effect  was  infinitely 
he^tened  by  the  ch  ;nge.  Of  late  years  the  taste  for  spectacle  lus  at  least 
kuithe  good  effect  of  inducing  managers  and  actors  to  pay  stricter  attention 
td  these  matters,  and  two  or  three  of  Shakspeare's  plays  were  revived  a  few 
sASona  back  at'Covent  Garden  Theatre,  with  their  costume  corrected  by 


92  HUtory  of  British  CoMtume. 

the  writer  of  this  work,  under  the  sanctioa  of  Mr.  Charles  Kemble." — 
pp.  282,  283. 

Contrast  the  dcKriptions  in  the  two  paragraphe  that  we  now 
present. 

^*  At  the  commencement  of  the  civil  war,  wben  the  rcnralist  party  began 
to  be  denominated  Cavaliers,  and  the  republican  Romn-fieads,  the  cos- 
tume of  England  was  as  divided  as  its  opinions ;  but  the  dress  of  the 
Cavalier  was  gallant  and  picturesque  in  the  extreme.  It  consisted  of  a 
doublet  of  silk,  satin,  or  velvet,  with  large  loose  sleeves,  slashed  up  the 
front ;  the  collar  covered  by  a  falling  band  of  the  richest  point  lace,  with 
that  peculiar  edging  now  called  Vandyke ;  a  short  cloak  was  worn  care- 
lessly on  one  Moulder.  The  long  breeches,  fringed  or  pointed,  as  we 
have  already  mentioned,  met  the  tops  of  the  wide  boots,  which  were  also 
ruffled  with  lace  or  lawn.  A  broad-leafed  Flemish  beaver  hat,  with  a 
rich  hatband  and  plume  of  feathers,  was  set  on  one  side  the  head,  and  a 
Spanish  rapier  hung  from  a  most  magnificent  baldrick  or  sword-belt, 
worn  sashwise  over  the  right  shoulder.  The  doublet  of  silk  or  velvet 
was  frequentlv  exchanged  in  these  troublesome  times  for  a  buff  coat, 
which  was  richly  laced,  and  sometimes  embroidered  with  g^ld  or  silver, 
and  encircled  by  a  broad  silk  or  satin  scarf  tied  in  a  large  bow,  either 
behind  or  over  the  hip,  in  which  case  the  short  cloak  was  perhaps  dis- 
pensed with.  In  some  instances  a  buff  jerkin,  without  sleeves,  was 
worn  over  the  doublet.  Allusions  are  frequent  in  the  old  plays  of  this 
period  to  these  defensive  garments.  Cliarles  I.,  in  the  twelfth  year  of 
his  reign,  determined  to  restore  the  mantle  of  the  order  of  the  garter  to 
its  original  colour,  and  it  was  accordingly  worn,  on  the  installation  of  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  of  a  rich  celestial  blue ;  the  surcoat  and  humerale  re- 
mained crimson ;  the  hat  was  of  black  velvet  as  before.  As  early  as  the 
second  year  of  his  reign  he  had  ordered  the  badge  of  the  order  (the  cross 
surrounded  by  the  garter)  to  be  worn  by  the  knights  on  their  daily 
dresses,  and  in  1629  it  was  formed  into  a  star  by  surrounding  it  with  rays 
as  it  is  at  present." — ^pp.  284,  285. 

Sir  Philip  Warwick  is  the  authority  for  what  follows;  he  is 
speaking  of  Oliver  Cromwell. 

**  *  The  first  time  that  I  ever  took  notice  of  him,'  says  that  gentleman, 
*  was  in  the  beginning  of  the  Parliament  held  in  November,  1640,  when  I 
vainly  thought  myself  a  courtly  young  gentleman,  for  we  courtiers  valued 
ourselves  much  upon  our  good  clothes.  I  came  one  mourning  into  the 
house  well  clad,  and  perceived  a  gentleman  speaking  whom  I  knew  not, 
very  ordinarily  apparelled ;  for  it  was  a  plain  cloth  suit,  which  seemed  to 
have  been  made  by  an  ill  country  tailor ;  his  linen  was  plain,  and  not  very 
clean ;  and  I  remember  a  speek  or  two  of  blood  upon  his  Jittle  band,  which 
was  not  much  larger  than  his  collar ;  his  hat  was  without  a  hatband ;  his 
stature  was  of  a  good  size ;  his  sword  stuck  close  to  his  side.' " — pp.  285» 
286. 

We  had  proposed  to  ourselves  to  have  gone  along  with  the  author 
into  the  monstrosities  which  distinguished  the  earlier  part  of 
Geoxge  III.'s  reign,  in  the  matter  of  dress  curls,  powdar  andThoo^, 
and  then  into  the  more  picturesque  fields  presented  by  the  sister 


/iffl^,  with  Sketches  of  Spain  and  Porlttgai.  93 

kingdoms.  But  we  must,  instead  of  doing  so,  recommend  every 
one  who  has  a  taste  for  national  antiquities,  pleasantly  and  ably 
dereloped  within  a  small  compass,  to  have  reooune  to  the  work 
upon  which  we  have  been  now  engaged.  And  though  those  anti- 
qoities  be  confined  to  the  matters  of  dress  in  the  field,  or  only  by 
me  fire-side,  they  will  be  found,  as  here  treated,  highly  worthy  the 
stady  of  the  sagacious,  as  well  as  instructive  and  delightful  to  the 
young. 


A^T.  UI. — Ualt/,  with  Sketelies  of  Spam  and  Portugal.  By  the  Author 

of  Vathek,  2  vols.,  London :  Beniley,  1834. 

Every  year  some  half  dozen  or  so  of  tours  in  Germany,  Italy, 
or  other  parts  of  the  continent  are  laid  upon  our  table,  all  courteous- 
ly to  bespeak  our  favourable  judgment  of  their  contents,  which  we 
generallv  very  good  naturedly  accord  to  them.  For  besides  the  kind- 
liness of  our  deposition,  we  are  of  the  erratic  class ;  and  know  that 
it  would  be  very  difficult  for  anv  one  who  set  out  to  wander  for 
months  from  city  to  city,  and  kingdom  to  kingdom,  resolved  to 
note  every  thing  that  particularly  engaged  his  attention,  not  to  fur- 
nish an  entertaining  volume  or  two.  To  be  sure  it  might  be  sup- 
posed that  Germany,  Italy,  and  so  forth,  were  by  this  time  worn 
almost  threadbare,  were  we  merely  to  count  the  number  of  cockneys 
that  have  fatigued  themselves  therewith.  But  we  are  not  of  that 
way  of  thinking,  we  believe  that  a  field  or  path  cannot  be  soon  too 
much  beaten,  provided  every  new  traveller  be  accomplished  and 
discerning  enough  for  the  department  he  enters  on  provided  he, 
without  affectation,  employs  his  own  original  powers  in  marking  and 
characterising  what  comes  before  him.  We  therefore  do  not  complain 
of  the  taste  of  any  tourist,  who  lays  his  observations  before  us  merely 
cm  the  ground  that  nothing  was  left  for  him  to  say  or  see  anew, 
even  although  such  should  be  the  &ct,  which  however  will  seldom 
occur;  for  it  is  the  most  attractive  of  all  things  to  watch  and  dis- 
tinguish the  variety  of  modes  in  which  different  spectators  look  upon 
one  thing,  surpassing  the  sight  of  a  great  variety  of  novel  scenes, 
presented  by  one  spectator.  In  the  former  instance,  the  marvel- 
lous phenomena  exhibited  are  the  workings  and  diversities  of  mind ; 
in  the  latter,  it  is  but  one  mind  to  an  immense  number  of  scenes  and 
subjects.  A  better  exemplification  of  our  doctrine  cannot  well  be 
founds  than  in  the  field  which  the  work  before  us  occupies  at  consi- 
derable length.  Nor  shall  we  require  to  do  more  to  make  ourselves 
understood  than  refer  to  the  objects  taken  up  in  common  by  the 
anthor  and  Mrs.  Trollope,  as  may  be  at  once  perceived  by  turning 
back  to  onr  last  number.  We  could  mention  a  number  of  other 
late  woiks  where  comparisons  and  parallels  might  be  drawn ;  but 
the  instance  cited  is  sufficient  for  our  purpose.  Nor  do  we  doubt, 
that  another  batch  of  English  tourists  to  the  same  countries  is 


^4  Italy,  with  Sketches  of  Spain  dnd  Portugal^ 

even  this  summer  ardently  preparing  themselves  for  oht  revieir 
ere  twelvemonths  have  fled  over  us  from  the  present  date. 

We  think,  however,  that  there  is  a  line  for  travellers,  not  yet 
very  often,  and  still  more  rarely  well  followed  out,  where  the  mate- 
rials to  be  found  would  furnish  for  the  appetite  that  greedily  craves 
for  novelties,  abundant  pleasure  and  profit;  we  mean  the  odd,  the 
bye,  and  the  sequestered — if  you  will,  the  humble  ways  df  life.  In 
short,  the  peasantry,  of  the  continent,  not  in  their  picturesque  or 
romantic  positions  but  in  their  homely  and  every  oay  character, 
have  not  hitherto  been  sufficiently  depicted.  There  have  been  pe- 
destrian tours,  but  we  have  never  found  in  them  much  more  than 
the  sketchy  drawings  of  an  amateur  in  the  fine  arts,  or  the  fabu- 
lous accounts  of  caterers  for  a  circulating  library.  And  yet  the  pea- 
santry of  any  country  are  alone  the  faithful  custodiers  and  portraits 
of  nationalities.  All  large  towns  are  necessarily  much  alike ;  the 
diifereuce  between  one  hotel  and  another  can  never  give  the  fresh 
truth  as  regards  original  peculiarities  of  character,  descriptive  of  any 
country.  But  did  the  tourist  we  have  in  our  mind's  eye,  with  all  the 
leisure  and  composure  of  an  observant  and  judicious  traveller,  who 
cared  not  how  long  a  minute  study  of  the  domestic  manners  of  a 
people  took,  set  himself  abroad  amongst  a  peasantry,  the  variety 
of  knowledge  obtained  of  domestic  economy  and  discipline,  of  rural 
arts  and  practices,  would  be  eminently  useJiil  and  delightful.  We 
would  have  such  a  tourist  avoid  all  formal  routes,  and  be  prepared 
to  go  and  to  follow  out  every  thing  as  the  wind,  so  to  speak,  blew 
him;  but  no  longer  to  tarry  at  the  threshold.  How  imperfect 
must  our  acquaintance  have  been  with  the  national  character  of  the 
Scotch,  had  it  alone  been  derived  from  the  fashionable  ladies  and 
gentlemen  who  have  of  late  years  posted  from  town  to  town,  seldom 
leaving  his  Majesty's  macadamized  highways  ;  or  from  the  pencil- 
men,  who  have  been  in  raptures  about  mountains,  tartan,  and  whis- 
ky ?  He  of  the  kilt,  or  the  still  more  worthy  subject  of  study, 
lie  of  the  blue  bonnet,  might,  in  spite  of  all  these  efforts,  have  re- 
mained till  this  hour  as  inadequately  understood  as  do  the  s^rfs 
of  Russia. 

But  be  all  this  as  it  may,  no  doubt  need  be  entertained  of  what  the 
author  of  Vathek  can  do,  set  him  down  any  where ;  especially  if 
Italy  be  the  principal  field  of  excursion  to  which  he  is  destined. 
And  more  epecially  will  he  recommend  himself  to  any  one's  notice, 
pliould  it  be  understood,  that,  as  he  declares,  the  work  has  lain 
dormant  for  many  years  ;  1780,  being  the  date  he  prefixed  to  his 
letters  from  the  continent.  Our  duty  however  is  to  open  the  book, 
and  let  our  readers  judge  of  its  merits.  They  will  do  more  ;  they 
cannot  but  be  gratified  with  the  fare  light,  lively  and  highly  sea- 
soned as  it  uniformly  is. 

The  author  treats  Ostend,  Ghent,  and  Antwerp  very  cursorily. 
He  tells  us  that  ''quiet  and  content"  are  the  two  Deities  that  have 
especially  taken  Flanders  under  their  protection,  and  he  pleases  to 
be  sarcastic  upon  them.     We  will  hasten  on  with  him  to  Cologne, 


Ao/y,  with  Sketches  of  Spain  and  Portugal.  35 

HJiert  a  celebrated  Shrine;  that  cost  Mrs.  Trollope  a  deal  of  mar- 
vel and  reverence,  is  thus  treated : 

'*  July  10th. — Clouds  of  dust  hindered  my  making  any  remarks  on 
the  exterior  of  this  famous  city ;  hut  if  its  appearance  he  not  more  heau- 
tiful  from  without  than  within,  I  defy  the  most  courteous  compiler  of 
geographical  dictionaries  to  launch  forth  very  warmly  in  its  praise.  But 
of  what  avail  are  stately  palaces,  broad  streets,  or  airy  markets,  to  a 
town  which  can  boast  of  such  a  treasure  as  the  bodies. of  those  three  wise 
sovereigns  who  were  started  to  Bethlehem  ?  Is  not  this  circumstance 
enough  to  procure  it  every  kind  of  respect?  I  really  believe  so,  from 
the  pious  and  dignified  contentment  of  its  inhabitants.  They  care  not 
a  hair  of  an  ass's  ear  whether  their  houses  be  gloomy  and  ill-contrived, 
their  pavement  overgrown  with  weeds,  and  their  shops  half  choked  up 
with  filthiness,  provided  the  carcasses  of  Gaspar,  Melchior,  and  Balthazar 
might  be  preserved  with  proper  decorum.  Nothing,  to  be  sure,  can  be 
richer  than  the  shrine  which  contains  these  precious  relics.  I  paid  my 
devotions  before  it  the  moment  I  arrived;  this  step  was  inevitable:  had 
I  omitted  it,  not  a  soul  in  Cologne  but  would  have  cursed  me  for  a  Pagan. 
Do  you  not  wonder  at  hearing  of  those  venerable  bodieB  so  far  ft'om 
their  native  country  ?  I  thought  them  snug  under  some  Arabian  cupola, 
ten  feet  deep  in  spice  ;  but  who  can  tell  what  is  to  become  of  one  a  few 
ages  hence  ?  Who  knows  but  the  Emperor  of  Morocco  may  be 
canonized  some  future  day  ia  Lapland  ?  I  asked,  of  course,  how  in  the 
name  of  miracles  they  came  hither  ?  but  found  no  story  of  a  superna- 
tural conveyance.  It  seems  that  great  coUectress  of  relics,  the  holy 
Empress  Helena,  first  routed  them  out :  then  they  were  packed  off  to 
Rome;  King  Alaric,  having  no  grace,  bundled  them  down  to  Milan; 
where  they  remained  till  it  pleased  heaven  to  inspire  an  ancient  arch- 
bishop with  the  fervent  wish  of  depositing  them  at  Cologne;  there  these 
skeletons  were  taken  into  the  most  especial  consideration,  crowned  with 
jewels,  and  filagreed  with  gold.  Never  were  skulls  more  elegantly  ' 
mounted ;  and  I  doubt  whether  Odin's  beauffet  cpuld  exhibit  so  fine  an 
assortment.  The  chapel  containing  these  beautiful  bones  is  placed  in  a 
dark  extremity  of  the  cathedral.  Several  golden  lamps  gleam  along  the 
polished  marbles  with  which  it  is  adorned,  and  afford  just  .light  enough 
to  read  the  following  monkish  inscription  : — '  Corpora  sanctorum  rectu- 
bant  hie  terna  magorum  :  ex  his  svhlaium  nihil  est  alibive  locatum,^ " — 
pp,  42 — 44. 

He  sets  off  for  Bonn,  the  roadside  being  lined  he  tells  us  with 
beggarly  children,  high  convent  walls,  and  scarecrow  crucifixes, 
lubberly  monks,  dejected  peasants,  and  all  the  delights  of  Catho- 
licism. From  Bonn  to  Audemach,  he  describes  the  picturesque 
borders  of  the  Rhine ;  and  the  road  sometimes  as  being  like  a 
cornice  suspended  above  the  waters^  at  other  times,  it  winds  behind 
lofty  steeps  and  broken  acclivities,  shaded  by  woods,  and  clothed 
with  an  endless  varietv  of  plants  and  flowers.  The  contrast  of  the 
objects  that  bordered  nis  path  were  therefore  not  unworthy  of  ob- 
servation. Ems,  famous  in  mineral  story,  Ulm,  and  the  Danube 
sweeping  majestically  along,  and  the  renowned  city  of  Augsburg, 
have  all  a  touch  from  his  pencil,  which  is  not  uniformly  sparing  or 


36  Itmlf^wUkSaoAeknfif  SfmmtmdPitrHtgiA. 

flflttniag;  ''  Joy  to  the  eleetan  of  Baivam  !^  etdimm  he,  far 
pregorving  Buch  extensive  woods  of  fir  in  their  dominions^  as  shade 
over  the  chief  part  of  the  road  from  Augsburg  to  Munich.  The' 
stagnate  pools' and  the  regaling  dunghills  near  the  last-mentioned 
city,  serving  for  a  kind  of  contrariety,  he  is  not  unwilling  to  intro- 
duce into  his  sketches.  Our  readers  will  ei^oy  the  picture,  or 
rather  variety  of  pictures,  that  follow : — 

• 

*•  July  23. — ^We  were  driven  in  the  evening  to  Nynphenbure,  the  Elec- 
tor's country  palace,  the  bosquets,  jets  d*eaux,  and  parterres  of  which  are 
the  pride  of  the  Bavarians.  The  principal  platform  is  all  of  a  glitter,  with 
gilded  Cupids  and  shining  serpents  spouting  at  every  pore.  Beds  of  poppies, 
hollyhocks,  scarlet  iychins,  and  other  flame-coloured  flowers,  border  the 
edge  of  the  walls,  which  extend  till  the  perspective  appears  to  meet  and 
swarm  with  ladies  and  gentlemen  in  party-coloured  raiment.  The  Queen 
of  Golconda's  gardens  in  a  French  opera  are  scarcely  more  gaudy  ai|d 
artificial.  Unluckily,  too,  the  evening  was  fine,  and  the  sun  so  powerful, 
that  we  were  half- wasted  before  we  could  cross  the  great  avenue  and 
enter  the  thickets  which  barely  conceal  a  very  splendid  hermitage,  where 
we  joined  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Trevor  and  a  party  of  fashionable  Bavarians. 
Amongst  the  ladies  was  Madame  la  Contesse — ^I  forget  who,  a  production 
of  the  venerable  Haslang,  with  dai^hter,  Madame  de  Baumgarten,  who 
has  the  honour  of  leading  the  Elector  in  her  chains.  These  goddesses, 
stepjnng  into  a  car,  vulgarly  called  a  curricle,  the  mortals  followed  and 
explored  alley  after  alley,  and  pavilion  after  pavilion.  Then,  having 
viewed  Pagodenberg,  wluch  is,  as  they  told  me,  aU  Chinese ;  and  Marien- 
burg,  which  is  most  assuredly  all  tinsel,  we  paraded,  by  a  variety  of  foun- 
tains in  full  sqiurt,  and  though  they  certainly  did  their  best,  (for  many 
were  set  going  on  purpose),  I  cannot  say  I  greatly  admired  them. 

^  The  ladies  were  very  g^ily  attired,  and  the  gentlemen,  as  smart  as 
swords,  bags,  and  pretty  clothes  could  make  them,  looked  exactly  like  the 
fine  people  one  sees  represented  on  Dresden  porcelain.  Thus  we  kept 
walking  about  the  orangery  till  the  carriage  drew  up  and  conveyed  us  to 
Mr.  Trevor's.  Immediately  after  supper,  we  drove  once  more  out  of 
town,  to  a  garden  and  tea-room,  where  all  degrees  and  ages  dance 
jovially  till  morning.  Whilst  one  party  wheel  briskly  away  in  the  waltz, 
another  amuse  themselves  in  a  comer  with  cold  meat  and  rhenish.  That 
despatched,  out  they  whisk  amongst  the  dancers,  with  an  impetuosity 
and  liveliness  I  little  expected  to  have  found  in  Bavaria.  After  turning 
round  and  round,  with  a  rapidity  ^t  is  quite  astounding  to  an  English 
dancer,  the  music  changes  to  a  slower  movement,  and  then  follows  a 
succession  of  zig-zag  minuets,  performed  by  old  and  young,  straight 
and  crooked,  noble  and  plebeian,  all  at  once,  from  one  end  of  the  room 
to  the  other.  Tallow  candles  snufiing  and  stinking,  dishes  changii^,  at 
the  risk  of  showering  down  upon  you  their  savoury  contents,  heads 
scratching,  and  all  sorts  of  performances  going  on  at  the  same  moment, 
the  flutes,  oboes,  and  bassoons  snorting,  gprunting,  and  whining  with 
peculiar  emphasis  i  now  &8t,  now  slow,  just  as  Variety  commands,  who 
seems  to  rule  the  ceremonial  of  this  motley  assembly,  where  every  dis- 
tinction of  rank  and  privilege  is  totally  forgotten.  Once  a  week,— on 
Sundays,  that  is  to  say,  the  rooms  are  open,  and  Monday  is  generally  far 
advanced  before  they  are  deserted.    If  good  humour  and  coarse  merri- 


72«/y,  wHk  Shtchee  of  Spain  ami  Portugai.  97 

ment  ar»  M  that  people  desire,  here  they  ue  to  be  fouad  in  perfaotioii." 
—pp.  64 — ffj. 

The  author^  it  wiU  be  observed,  is  partial  to  high  colouring.  We 
remember  that  Mrs.  Trollope,  to  whom  we  have  already  luhMtdlj 
in  her  Belgian  and  German  tour,  waa  every  now  and  tiben  so  over 
head  and  ears  m  admixatian  nf  ciinrrhwij  mrines  and  relics,  as  to 
be  totafly  ngnedkmi  of  any  more  sacred  ]^rinciples  than  those  re* 
cpgniaea  in  the  pursuit  of  an  artist  or  antiquarian.  But  the  pre- 
sent author  says  to  his  correspondent,  '^  if  you  are  as  much  tired 
with  reading  my  voluminous  descriptions,  as  I  was  with  the  con- 
tinual repetition  of  altars  and  reliquaries,  the  Lord  have  mercy 
upon  you !"  a  feelmg  fully  as  rational,  in  our  estimation,  as  the 
other  :  and  yet  expressed,  we  have  no  doubt,  to  ^ve  a  richer  efiect 
to  his  descriptions  of  such  things.  The  following  passages  will 
show,  that  the  author  is  not  only  studiously  ornate,  but  not  unwil- 
ling to  recur  to  religious,  or,  if  you  choose,  superstitious  observances. 
He  is  now  at  a  hamlet  called  Mittenwald,  in  the  Tyrol 

"  Our  inn  had  long  airy  galleries,  with  pleasant  balconies  fronting  the 
mountains ;  in  one  of  these  we  dined  upon  trout,  fresh  from  the  rills, 
and  cherries,  just  cidled  from  the  orchards  that  cover  the  slopes  above. 
The  clouds  were  dispersing,  and  the  topmost  peaks  half  visible,  before 
We  ended  our  rexnst,  everv  moment  discovering  some  inaccessible  cliff 
or  summit  shining  through  the  mists,  and  tinted  by  the  sun  with  pale 
golden  colours.  These  appearances  filled  me  with  such  deHght,  and  with 
such  a  train  of  romantic  associations,  that  I  left  the  table  wad  ran  to  an 
open  field  beyond  the  huts  and  gardens,  to  gaze  in  solitude  and  catch  the 
vision  before  it  dissolved  away.  You,  if  any  human  being  is  able,  may 
conceive  true  ideas  of  the  glowing  vapours  sailing  over  the  pointed 
rocks,  and  brightening  them  in  their  passive  with  amber  light.  When 
all  was  faded  and  lost  in  the  blue  ether,  I  had  time  to  look  around  me 
and  notice  the  mead  on  which  I  was  staioding.  Here  clover  covered  its 
surface;  there,  crous  of  grain;  further  on,  beds  of  herbs  and  the 
sweetest  flowers.  An  amphitheatre  of  hills  and  rocks,  broken  into  a 
variety  of  ^ens  and  precipices,  open  a  course  for  several  clear  rivulets, 
which,  after  gurgling  amidst  loose  stones  and  fragments,  fall  down  the 
steeps  and  are  concealed  and  quieted  in  the  herbage  of  the  vale.  A  cot- 
tage or  two  peep  out  of  the  woods  that  hang  over  the  water-falls ;  on  the 
brow  of  the  hills  above  appears  a  series  of  eleven  little  chapels,  uni- 
formly built.  I  followed  the  narrow  path  that  leads  to  them,  on  the  edge 
of  the  eminences,  and  met  a  troop  of  beautiful  peasants,  all  of  the  name 
of  Anna  (for  it  was  St  Anna's  day"),  going  to  pay  their  devotions  seve- 
rally at  these  neat  white  fi&nes.  There  were  faces  that  Guercino  would 
not  have  disdained  copying,  with  braids  of  hair  the  softest  and  most  lux- 
uriant I  ever  beheld.  Seme  had  wreathed  it  simply  with  flowers,  others 
with  rolls  of  thin  linen  (manufactured  in  the  neighbourhood),  and  dis- 
posed it  with  a  degree  of  elegance  one  should  not  have  expected  on  the 
cliffs  of  the  Tyrol. 

*'  Being  arrived,  they  knelt  all  together  at  the  first  chapel,  on  the  steps, 
a  minute  or  two,  whispered  a  short  prayer,  and  then  dispersed  each  to 
her  own  fane.    Every  little  building  had  now  its  fair  worshipper,  and 


28  Italy,  with  Sketches  of  Spain  ofid  Portugal. 

you  may  well  conceive. how  much  such  figures  scattered  about  the  land- 
scape increased  its  charms.  Notwithstanding  the  fervour  of  adonUion* 
(for  at  intervals  they  sighed,  and  beat  their  white  bosoms  with  energy^ 
several  bewitching  profane  glances  were  cast  at  me  as  1  passed  by.  Do 
not  be  surprised,  then,  if  I  became  a  convert  to  idolatry  in  so  amiable  a 
form,  and  worshipped  St.  Anna  on  the  score  of  her  namesakes." — 
pp.  7^-79. 

But  now  for  Italy,  and  on  to  Venice,  the  city  of  Gondolas,  Gal- 
leries, Serenades,  and  Carnivals  :  we  give  two  short  extracts,  de- 
scriptive of  Venetian  manners  and  character  : — 

*'  Many  of  the  noble  Venetians  have  a  little  suite  of  apartments  in 
some  out-of-the-way  comer,  near  the  grand  piazza,  of  which  their  fami- 
lies are  totally  ignorant.  To  these  they  skulk  in  the  dusk,  and  revel  un- 
disturbed with  the  companions  of  their  pleasures.  Jealousy  itself  cannot 
discover  the  alleys,  the  winding  passages,  the  unsuspected  doors,  by 
which  these  retreats  are  accessible.  Many  an  unhappy  lover,  whose 
mistress  disappears  on  a  sudden  with  some  fortunate  rival,  has  searched 
her  haunts  in  vain.  The  gondoliers  themselves,  though  the  prime 
managers  of  intrigtAe^  are  often  unacquainted  with  interior  cabinets. 
When  a  gallant  has  a  mind  to  pursue  his  adventures  with  mystery,  he 
rows  to  the  piazza,  orders  his  bark  to  wait,  meets  his  goddess  in  the 
crowd,  ^nd  vanishes  from  all  beholders.  Surely,  Venice  is  the  city  in  the 
universe  best  calculated  for  giving  scope  to  the  observations  of  a  devil  on 
two  sticks.  AVhat  a  variety  of  lurking-places  would  one  stroke  of  his 
crutch  imcover !  '* — ^p.  1 18. 

*'  I  wonder  a  lively  people  can  endure  such  monotony,  for  I  have  been 
told  the  Venetians  are  remarkably  spirited,  and  so  eager  in  the  pursuit 
of  amusement  as  hardly  to  allow  themselves  any  sleep.  Some,  4or  in- 
stance, after  declaiming  in  the  Senate,  walking  an  hour  in  the  square, 
fidgetting  about  from  one  casino  to  another  till  morning  dawns,  will  get 
into  a  gondola,  row  across  the  Lagunes,  take  post  to  Mestre  or  Pusina, 
and  jumble  over  craggy  pavements  to  Treviso,  breakfast  in  haste,  and 
rattle  back  again  as  if  the  devil  was  charioteer :  by  eleven  the  party  b 
restored  to  Venice,  resumes  robe  and  perriwig,  and  goes  to  counsel. 

"  This  may  be  very  true,  and  yet  I  will  never  cite  the  Venetians  as 
examples  of  vivacity.  Their  nerves  unstrung  by  early  debaucheries, 
allow  no  natural  flow  of  lively  spirits,  and  at  best  but  a  few  moments  of 
a  false  and  feverish  activity.  The  approaches  of  sleep,  forced  back  by 
an  immoderate  use  of  coffee,  render  them  weak  and  listless,  and  the 
facility  of  being  wafted  from  place  to  place  in  a  gondola,  adds  not  a  little 
to  their  indolence.  In  short,  I  can  scarcely  regard  their  Eastern  neigh- 
bours in  a  more  lazy  light,  who,  thanks  to  their  opium  and  their  harems, 
peas  their  lives  in  one  perpetual  doze." — ^pp.  121, 122. 

Every  page  of  the  chapters  on  Venice  abounds  with  delightful 
reading,  and,  did  our  limits  permit,  would  afibrd  matter  for  a  dis- 
tinct extract.  The  only  feult  we  find  in  it  is,  that  every  here  and 
there  the  author  thinks  it  necessary  to  tell  us  of  his  abstractions 
and  reveries,  as  if  we  were  to  suppose  he  was  habitually  soaring  in 
imagination  far  above  the  grossnesses  and  common  places  on  earth  ; 
whilst,  after  all,  his  real  merit  consists  in  being  a  close  and  accurate 


Italy,  with  Sketches  of  Spain  and  Portugal,  *?9 

obseirer,  though,  no  doubt,  a  describer  too  amhitious   of  effect 
and  point.     Let  ub  prove  from  his  own  lips  our  averment : — 


'*  The  splendour  of  the  rising  sun  for  once  in  my  life  drew  little  of  my 
attention.  I  was  too  deeply  plunged  in  my  reveries  to  notice  the  land- 
scape which  lay  before  me,  and  the  walls  of  Padua  presented  themselves 
sometime  ere  I  was  aware.  At  any  another  moment  how  sensibly  should 
I  have  been  affected  with  their  appearance  !  How  many  ideas  of  Antenor 
and  his  Trojans  would  have  thronged  into  my  memory !  but  now  I  regarded 
the  scene  with  indifference,  and  passed  many  a  palace  and  many  a  woody 
garden,  with  my  eyes  ri vetted  to  the  ground.  The  first  object  that 
appeared  upon  lifting  them  up  was  a  confused  pile  of  spires  and  cupolas 
dedicated  to  blessed  Saint  Anthony,  one  of  whose  most  eloquent  sermons 
the  great  Addison  has  translated  con  amore,  and  in  his  very  best  manner. 
You  are  too  well  apprised  of  the  veneration  I  have  always  entertained 
for  this  inspired  preacher  to  doubt  that  I  immediately  repaired  to  his 
shrine.  Mine  was  a  disturbed  spirit,  and  required  all  the  balm  of  Saint 
Anthony's  kindness  to  appease  it" — pp.  149, 150. 

Now,  there  is  a  deal  of  9tvjf  in  this,  which  we  could  only  ex- 
cuse by  supposing  the  writer  fresh  from  college ;  but  this  is  a  most 
unnecessary  defence,  when  we  consider  the  real  knowledge  that  dis- 
tinguishes every  chapter  of  the  work.  The  author  was  at  Padua, 
when  this  alarming  reverie  held  him.  He  is  at  thie  same  place 
master  of  a  sturdier  style  of  sentiment : — 

"  Immediately  after  breakfast  we  went  to  St.  Justina's.  Both  extre- 
mities of  the  cross  aisles  are  terminated  by  altar  tombs  of  very  remote 
antiquity,  adorned  with  uncouth  sculptures  of  the  evangelists,  supported 
by  vrreathed  columns  of  alabaster,  round  which,  to  my  no  small  astonish- 
ment, four  or  five  gawky  fellows  were  waddling  on  their  knees,  per- 
suaded, it  seems,  that  this  strange  devotion  would  cure  the  rheumatism, 
or  any  other  aches  with  which  they  were  afBicted.  You  can  have  no 
conception  of  the  ridiculous  attitudes  into  which  they  threw  themselves : 
nor  the  difficulty  with  which  they  squeezed  along  between  the  middle 
columns  of  the  tomb  and  those  which  surround  it.  No  criminal  in  the 
pillory  ever  exhibited  a  more  rueful  appearance,  no  swine  ever  scrubbed 
itself  more  fervently,  than  those  infatuated  lubbers." — pp.  153,  164. 

We  go  forward  to  Florence,  where  he  visits  and  worships  the 
Venus  de  Medicis,  only  [deforming  the  detail  with  too  much,  of 
himself.  He  rushes  on  to  the  famous  gallery,  determined  to  find 
the  goddess,  and  resolved  or  rather  prepared  to  he  pleased  even 
to  wonderment.  We  have  only  here  to  remark,  that  though  we  are 
not  Ughly  skilled  in  the  Uberal  arts,  and  never  were  at  Florence, 
it  is  an  idea  countenanced  by  the  authority  of  Sir  Joshua  Rey- 
nolds, that  Fame  often  bespeaks  all  the  taste  as  weQ  as  admiration 
that  is  lavished  upon  particular  pictures  or  statues.  A  good  deal 
of  the  author's  flourish  we  take  it  is  attributable  to  this  principle, 
both  at  Florence  and  elsewhere.  At  the  same  time,  the  Venus  de 
Medicis,  we  are  thoroughly  persuaded,  would  command  the  gaze  and 
the  marvel  of  a  coal-heaver,  though  he  had  never  heard  either  of 


80  Itafy,  tBitA  Sketches  of  Spain  and  Portngai. 

the  goddess  or  her  representation.  We  cannot  afibrd  room  for 
an  extract  till  we  come  to  Rome^  and  therefore  we  pass  over  Pisa^ 
Leghorn^  and  Sienna  without  a  notice.  We  transcribe  the  first 
paragraphs  relating  to  the  queen  of  cities  : — 

••  Rome,  October  29th,  1780. 

*'  We  set  out  in  the  dark.  Morning  dawned  over  the  l^go  di  Vico ; 
its  waters  of  a  deep  ultramarine  blue,  and  its  surrounding  forests  catch- 
ing the  rays  of  the  rising  sun.  It  was  in  vain  I  looked  for  the  cupola  of 
Su  Peter's  upon  descending  the  mountains  beyond  Viterba.  Nothing 
but  a  sea  of  vapours  Was  visible. 

**  At  length  the^  rolled  away,  and  the  spacious  plains  began  to  show 
themselves,  in  which  the  most  warlike  of  nations  reared  their  seat  of 
empire.  On  the  left,  afar  off,  rises  the  rugged  chain  of  the  Apennines,  and, 
on  the  other  sides,  a  shining  expanse  of  ocean  terminates  the  view.  It 
was  upon  this  vast  surface  so  many  illustrious  actions  were  performed, 
and  I  know  not  where  a  mighty  people  could  have  chosen  a  grander 
theatre.  Here  was  space  for  the  march  of  armies,  and  verge  enough  for 
encampment;  level  for  martial  games,  and  room  for  that  variety  of 
roads  and  causeways  that  lead  from  the  capital  to  Ostia.  How  many 
triumphant  legions  have  trodden  these  pavements !  how  many  captive 
kings  I  What  throngs  of  cars  and  chariots  once  glittered  on  their  sur- 
face I  savage  animals  dragged  from  the  interior  of  Africa :  and  the  am- 
bassadors of  Indian  princes,  followed  by  their  exotic  train,  hastening  to 
implore  the  favour  of  the  senate.  During  many  ages,  this  eminence 
commanded  every  day  such  illustrious  scenes;  but  all  are*  vanished;  the 
splendid  tumult  is  passed  away :  silence  and  desolation  remain.  Dreary 
flats  thinly  scattered  over  with  ilex,  and  barren  hillocks  crowded  by  soU^ 
tary  towers,  were  the  only  objects  we  perceived  for  several  miles.  Now 
and  then  we  passed  a  few  black  ill-favoured  sheep,  straggling  by  the 
way's  side,  near  a  ruined  sepulchre,  just  such  animals  as  an  ancient  would 
have  sacrificed  to  the  manes.  Sometimes  we  crossed  a  brook,  whose 
ripplings  were  the  only  sounds  which  broke  the  general  stillness,  and 
observed  the  shepherds'  huts  on  its  banks,  propped  up  with  broken  pedes- 
tals and  marble  friezes.  I  entered  one  of  them,  whose  owner  was  abroad 
tending  his  herds,  and  began  writing  upon  the  sand  and  murmuring  a 
melancholy  song.  Perhaps  the  dead  listened  to  me  6om  their  narrow 
cells.    The  living  I  can  answer  for ;  they  were  far  enough  removed. 

** '  When  you  gain  the  summit  of  yonder  hill,  you  will  discover  Rome/ 
said  one  of  the  postillions :  up  we  dragged  :  no  city  appeared. 

"  *  From  the  next,'  cried  out  a  second ;  and  so  on  from  height  to 
height  did  they  amuse  my  expectations.  I  thought  Rome  fled  before  us, 
such  was  my  impatience,  till  at  last  we  perceived  a  cluster  of  hills  with 
green  pastures  on  their  summits,  inclosed  by  thickets  and  shaded  by 
flourishing  ilex.  Here  and  there  a  white  house  built  in  the  antique  style, 
with  open  porticoes,  that  received  a  fennt  gleam  of  the  evening  sun,  just 
emerged  from  the  clouds  and  tinting  the  meads  below.  Now  domes  and 
towers  began  to  discover  themselves  in  the  valley,  and  St.  Peter's  to  rise 
above  the  magnificent  roofs  of  the  Vatican.  Every  step  we  advanced 
the  scene  extended :  '  till  winding  suddenly  round  the  hill,  all  Rome 
opened  to  our  view.' " — ^pp.  230 — 234. 

The  author  tells  us  that  St.  Peter^s  aj^eared  so  fresh  in  its 
preservation^  as  to  suggest  the  idea  of  having  been  erected  within 


ItQly,  with  Skttehes  ^f  Sfmn  and  Pwiagd.  31 

the  same  year.  And,  ajFter  too  much  about  hia  aensatkxiB  and 
ecatacies,  we  have  the  following  happilv  expressed  passage,  which, 
whatever  be  the  name  he  chooses  to  affix  to  the  person  with  whom 
he  corresponded,  we  believe  and  hope  was  addressed  to  his  loved 
one  at  home: 

October  30tb,  1834. 
*'  Immediately  after  breakfast  I  repaired  again  to  St.  l^eter's,  which 
even  exceeded  the  height  of  my  expectations.  I  could  hardly  quit  it.  I 
wbh  his  Holiness  would  allow  me  to  erect  a  little  tabernacle  within  this 
glorious  temple.  I  should  desire  no  other  prospect  during  the  winter : 
no  other  sky  than  the  vast  arches  glowing  with  golden  ornaments,  so 
lofty  as  to  lose  all  glitter  or  gaudiness.  But  I  cannot  say  I  should  be  per- 
pectly  contented,  unless  I  could  obtain  another  tabernacle  for  you.  Thus 
established,  we  would  take  our  evening  on  the  field  of  marble ;  for  is  not 
the  pavement  vast  enough  for  the  extravagance  of  the  appellation? 
Sometimes  instead  of  climbing  a  mountain,  we  should  ascend  the  cupola, 
and  look  down  on  our  little  encampment  below.  At  night  I  should  wish 
for  a  constellation  of  lamps  dispersed  about  in  clusters,  and  so  contrived 
as  to  diffuse  a  mild  and  equal  hght  Music  should  not  be  wanting :  at 
one  time  to  breathe  in  the  subterraneous  chapels,  at  another  to  echo 
through  the  dome.  The  doors  should  be  closed,  and  not  a  mortal  ad« 
mitted.  No  priests,  no  cardinals,  God  forbid  I  We  would  have  all  the 
space  to  ourselves,  and  to  beings  of  our  own  visionary  persuasion." — 
pp.  236, 237. 

The  aathor  describes  his  entrance  into  Naples  to  have  been 
amid  the  torrents  and  bowlings  of  a  ereat  storm  ;  and  all  night  the 
waves  roaring  round  the  rocky  foundations  of  a  fortress  beneath 
the  windows  of  the  inn  where  he  took  up  his  habitation,  and  the 
Sghtning  playing  dear  in  his  eyes. 

But  the  second  volume  has  yet  to  be  opened,  and  we  have  not 
reached  the  end  of  the  first,  the  tenth  of  a  tithe  of  which  has  not 
been  even  adverted  to. 

There  are  a  great  many  pages  devoted  to  the  Grande  Char- 
trenx  to  a  delineation  of  the  woods  clouded  with  darkness,  the 
inzTents  rushing  with  violence  down  to  the  gloomiest  caverns,  and 
to  the  wild  grandeur  of  a  scene  hung  midway  between  the  base  and 
the  snmmit  of  the  most  fearful  clifis  connected  with  that  august 
spot.  But  of  such  grandeur  we  despair  of  giving  any  thing  like  an 
adequate  idea,  by  any  extracts  we  can  introduce ;  and  therefore 
we  pass  forward  to  more  intelligible  and  important  matter — we 
mean  the  morality  of  Genevese  society.  The  author  is  describing 
himself  as  just  having  arrived  under  the  walk  at  night,  a  little  be> 
fare  ten  o'clock,  when  he  knew  the  gates  had  to  be  evened  for  the 
convenience  of  those  returning  from  the  Comedie.     He  goes  on  to 

•J— 

•*  The  Comedie  is  become  of  wonderful  importance ;  but  a  few  years  ago 
the  very  name  of  a  play  was  held  in  such  abhorrence  by  the  spiritual  con- 
sistory of  Geneva  and  its  obsequious  servants,  which  then  included  the 
hest  part  of  the  republic,  that  the  partfJcers  and  the  abettors  of  such  diver- 


35}  ihUjft  «^'M  Sketches  of  Spain  and  Portvgtd, 

Bions  were  eeteemed  on  the  high  road  to  eternal  perdition.  Though  God 
knows,  I  am  unconcious  of  any  extreme  partiality  for  Calvin,  I  cannot 
help  thinking  his  severe  discipline  is  wisely  adapted  to  the  moral  constitution, 
of  this  starch  hit  of  repuhlic  which  he  took  to  his  grim  emhraces.  But 
these  days  of  rigidity  and  plainness  are  completely  gone  hy ;  the  soft 
spirit  of  toleration,  so  eloquently  insinuated  hy  Voltaire,  has  removed  all 
thorny  fences,  familiarized  his  numerous  admirers  with  every  innoviydon, 
and  laughed  the  scrupulous  of  every  nation  to  scorn.  Voltaire,  indeed,  may 
justly  be  styled  the  architect  of  that  gay  well-ornamented  bridge,  by  which 
free-thinking  and  immorality  have  been  smuggled  into  the  republic  under 
the  mask  of  philosophy  and  liberality  and  sentiment.  These  monsters, 
like  the  Sin  and  Death  of  Milton,  have  made  speedy  and  irreparable 
havoc.  To  facilitate  their  operations  rose  the  genius  of  *  Rentes  Viag^res' 
at  his  bidding,  tawdry  villas  with  their  little  pert  groves  of  poplar  and 
horse-chesnut  start-up — ^his  power  enables  Madame  C  D.,  the  bookseller's 
lady,  to  amuse  the  D.  of  G.  with  assemblies,  set  Parisian  cabriolets  and 
English  phaetons  rolling  from  one  fair's  table  to  another,  and  launches 
innumerable  pleasure  parties  with  banners  and  pop-guns  on  tihe  lake, 
drumming  and  trumpeting  away  their  time  from  morn  till  evening.  I  re- 
collect, not  many  years  past,  how  seldom  the  echoes  of  the  mountains 
were  profaned  by  such  noises,  and  how  rarely  the  drones  of  Geneva,  if 
any  there  were  in  that  once  industrious  city,  had  opportunities  of  display- 
ing their  idleness ;  but  now  dissipation  reigns  triumphant,  and,  to  pay  the 
tribute  she  exacts,  every  fool  runs  headlong  to  throw  his  scrapings  into 
the  voracious  whirlpool  of  annuities ;  little  caring,  provided  he  feeds  high 
and  lolls  in  his  carriage,  what  becomes  of  his  posterity.  I  had  ample  time 
to  make  these  reflections,  as  the  Comedie  lasted  longer  than  usual. — 
pp.  368—370. 

On  entering  upon  the  second  volume  of  Mr.  Beckford's  work, 
we  have  a  few  observations  to  oiier^  which  we  purposely  abstained 
fix>m  at  the  commencement  of  this  article.  We  thought  it  proper 
to  let  our  readers  have  a  taste  of  the  exquisite  fare  provided  for 
them,  that  they  might  the  more  heartily  go  along  with  usnotr. 
For  it  is  no  every  day  occurrence  to  find  such  a  production,  whether 
we  regard  it  upon  its  own  intrinsic  merits,  or  in  connexion  with 
various  associated  facts.  Mr.  Beckford's  Vathek  appeared  above 
fifty  years  ago,  which  obtained  for  him  a  high  name ;  and  these 
travels  are  about  as  old ;  yet  till  now  they  have  lain  dormant,  nor 
has  the  author,  so  far  as  we  know,  been  heard  of,  through  any  in- 
tervening production,  during  these  long  fifty  years.  He  still  lives 
however  to  listen  to  the  voice  of  fame,  which  within  these  few  late 
weeks  has  been  loud  and  continual  in  his  favour.  These  are  re- 
markable circumstances  of  themselves.  It  would  appear,  however^ 
that  for  years  past  there  has  been  a  whisper  among  the  literary 
circles,  that  Byron  and  other  iUustrious  writers  had  pilfered  largely 
from  Mr.  Beckford's  travels  without  acknowledgment,  the  work» 
either  from  an  impression  privately  distributed  to  a  few  friends,  or 
otherwise  shewn,  having  been  the  victim  of  the  great  dons  of 
modem  poetry;  and  the  surmise  receives  strong  support  froox 
Mr.  Beckford's  modest  and  polite  preface.     But  our  taste  neither 


Itaiy,  with  Sketches  of  Spain  and  Portugal.  33 

relishes  scandal  nor  rancour ;  and  we  proceed  to  notice  one  great 
charm  that  surrounds  the  work,  which  owes  none  of  its  strength  to 
sarmisea.  or  individual  unfairness;  we  allude  to  the  wondrous  change 
the  numerous  revolutions  that  have  marked  the  face,  it  may  almost 
literally  be  said,  of  the  countries  he  travelled,  within  these  fifty 
years.  Think  of  what  has  beiallen  Italy,  and  still  more  of  the  his- 
tory of  Portugal  and  Spain,  since  the  years  1780  and  1785!  It  is 
one  of  the  strongest  and  most  affecting  circumstances  to  be  pre- 
sented with  a  book  published  but  yesterday,  that  yet  was  written 
by  a  living  author,  and  describes  scenes  and  events  witnessed  ere 
the  present  order  or  disorder  of  things  was  dreamt  of — even  before 
Buonapcurte,  who  made  some  of  the  countries  described,  the  field 
d  his  renown  and  also  discomfitures,  was  heard  of. 

But  after  all,  it  is  the  talent,  the  intrinsic  merit,  of  these  volumes 
that  we  are  chiefly  concerned  with,  and  by  which  they  will  continue 
to  be  known.  The  author  was  of  course,  from  what  is  stated,  at 
the  time  thev  were  written  young  and  enthusiastic ;  he  was  highly 
echicated  and  accomplished  as  they  show  ;  and,  it  may  be  added,  he 
was  deeply  skilled  in  the  ways  of  the  world,  which  must  have  been 
owing  to  his  quick  and  accurate  discernment,  rather  than  the  length 
of  his  experience.  The  lands  he  travelled  were  exactly  suited  to 
his  classic  and  ideal  fancy ;  and,  besides  all  this,  he  had  the  com- 
mand pf  fortune,  influence,  and  every  tastefiil  luxury  that  can  be 
imagined  to  facilitate  his  view :  with  their  powers  and  advantages,  he 
made  what  may  be  truly  called  a  poetic  tour  ;  sketching  characters 
and  scenes  as  the  impulse  of  the  moment  prompted ;  sometimes 
disposing  of  a  people  and  a  city  in  one  sentence,  an  anecdote  or  a 
sarcasm ;  at  other  times,  as  at  Venice  for  instance,  lavishing  the 
riches  of  his  imagination,  and  ever  with  a  reckless  and  masterly 
profusion. 

We  have  no  wish  to  recur  and  dwell  upon  the  tiresome  and  in- 
effective manner  in  which  he  often  teUs  us  of  his  enthusiasm.  We 
shall  only  repeat,  that,  to  us,  it  is  a  blemish  in  these  delectable 
volumes ;  and  a  practice  very  younthfiil — quite  unlike  the  energy 
and  scornful  manliness,  as  well  as  graceful  tact,  that  generally  dis- 
tinguish him.  We  much  rather  hasten  back  to  the  work  itself, 
more  especially,  as  we  Uke  the  second  better  than  the  first  volume  ; 
not  that  there  is  more  genius  displayed,  but  because  instead  of 
things  we  have  men,  as  the  principal  theme ;  instead  of  still,  we 
have  animated  and  active  life. 

Mr.  Beckford  is  detained  by  contrary  winds  in  Cornwall ;  and 
our  readers  may  not  dislike  to  hear  what  he  has  to  say  of  some  things 
at  home,  before  crossing  to  Portugal.  Here  is  description  for  you. 
Tlie  town  spoken  of  is  Falmouth. 

"  Just  out  of  the  town,  in  a  sheltered  recess  of  the  hay,  lies  a  grove  of 
tall  elms,  forming  several  avenues  carpeted  with  turf.  In  the  central 
point  rises  a  stone  pyramid  about  thirty  feet  high,  well  designed  and  con. 
Btrucied,  but  quite  plain,  without  any  inscription ;  between  the  stems  Qf 

VOL.  III.  (1834.)  Ko.  I.  D 


34  Italy 9  wUh  Sketchei  of  Sjpain  md  Porhtgal. 

the  trees  one  discovers  a  low  white  house,  built  in  and  out  in  a  very  capri- 
cious manner,  with  oriel  windows  and  porches,  shaded  by  bushes  of  pros- 
perous bay.  Several  rose-coloured  cabbages,  with  leaves  as  crisped  and 
curled  as  those  of  the  acanthus,  decorate  a  little  grass  plat,  neatly  swept 
before  the  door.  Over  the  roof  of  this  snug  habitation  I  spied  the  skele* 
ton  of  a  gothic  mansion,  so  completely  robed  with  thick  ivy,  as  to  appear 
like  one  of  those  castles  of  clipped  box  I  have  often  seen  in  a  Dutch 
garden. 

**  Yesti^rday  evening,  the  winds  being  still  and  the  sun  gleaming  warm 
for  a  moment  or  two,  I  visited  this  spot  to  examine  the  ruin,  )iear  birds 
chirp,  and  scent  wall-flowers. 

"  Two  young  girls,  beautifully  shaped,  and  dressed'  with  a  sort*  of  to-' 
mantle  provincial  elegance,  yere  wsJking  up  and  down  the  grove  by  the 
pyramid.  There  was  something  so  lovelorn  in  their  gjestures,  that  I  have 
no  doubt  they  were  sighing  out  their  souls  to  each  other.  As  a  decided 
amateur  of  this  sort  of  confidential  promenade,  1  would  have  given  my 
ears  to  have  heard  their  confessions  J' — ^pp.  6,  7. 

The  next  mornings   occupation   afibrds    another  specimen : — 

**  Scott  came  this  morning  and  took  me  to  see  the  consolidated  mines 
in  the  parish  of  Gwynnay  ;  they  are  situated  in  a  bleak  desert,  rendered 
still  more  doleful  by  the  unhealthy  appearance  of  its  inhabitants.  At 
every  step  one  stumbles  upo^i  ladders  that  lead  into  utter  darkness,  or 
funnels  that  exhale  warm  copperous  vapours.  All  around  these  openings 
the  ore  is  piled  up  in  heaps  waiting  for  purchasers.  I  saw  it  drawn 
recking  out  of  the  mine  by  the  help  of  a  machine  called  a  whim,  put  in 
motion  by  mules,  which  in  their  turn  are  stimulated  by  impish  children 
hanging  over  the  poor  brutes,  and  flogging  them  round  without  respite. 
This  dismal  scene  of  w/dms^  suffering  mules,  and  hillocks  of  cinders,  ex- 
tends for  miles.  Huge  iron  engines  creaking  and  groaning,  invented  by 
Watt,  and  tall  chimneys  smoking  and  flaming,  that  seem  to  belong  to  old 
Nicholas's  abode,  diversify  the  prospect. 

*'  Two  strange-looking  Cornish  beings,  dressed  in  ghostly  white,  con- 
ducted me  about,  aiid  very  kindly  proposed  a  descent  into  the  bowels  of 
the  earth,  but  I  declined  initiation.     These  mystagogues  occupy  a  tole- 
rable house,  with  four  sash  windows,  where  the  inspectors  of  the  mine^ 
hold  their  meetings,  and  regale  upon  beef,  pudding,  and  brandy.** — ' 
pp.  8,  9. 

We  must  not  at  the  very  oatset  of  the  volume  however  be  too 
lavish  with  our  extracts ;  for,  truly,  were  every  particularly  fine 
paragraph  to  be  quoted,  more  than  half  the  work  would  figure  m  our 
pages.  His  description  of  the  Cornish  miners  is  singularly  graphic 
Notwithstanding  their  pale  looks,  he  tells  us  that  they  are  fiur 
from  being  poor  or  unhealthy ;  that  ^^  their  wives,  dressed  out  in 
tawdry  silks,  oft  flaunt  away  in  alehouses  between  rows  of  obedient^ 
fiddlers".  But  this  was  in  the  year  1789;  since  that  time  we 
believe  great  changes  have  come  over  this  class  of  labourers — 9fid 
now  for  his  first  notice  of  Lisbon,  ^hich  is  capital : — 

"  Lisbon  is  the  place  in  the  world  best  calculated  to  make  one  cry 
out 

'  Hide  me  from  thy  day's  garish  eye  ^' 


/te/jr,  with  Sketchet  of  Spain  4md  PortugaL  U 

but  where  to  Inde  is  not  so  easy.  Here  are  no  thickets  of  pine  as  in  the 
claasic  Italian  villas,  none  of  those  quiTering  poplars  and  leafy  chesnuts 
triidch  ooTer  the  plains  of  Lomhardy.  The  groves  in  the  immediate  envi- 
rons of  ^is  capital  are  composed  of — with  alas  I  but  few  exceptions—* 
dwarfish  orange-trees  and  cinder-coloured  olives.  Under  their  branches 
repose  Neither  shepherds  nor  shepherdesses,  but  whitening,  bones,  scraps 
of IcSEitiier,  broken  pantiles,  and  passengers  not  unfrequentiy  atten  led  by 
mookeys,  who,  I  have  been  told,  are  let  out  for  the  purpose  of  picking  up 
a  livelihood.  Those  who  cannot  afford  this  apish  luxury  have  their 
boshy  poles  untenanted  by  affectionate  relations,  for  yesterday  just  under 
my  window  I  saw  two  blessed  babies  rendering  this  good  office  to  their 
aged  parent 

**  I  had  determined  not  to  have  stirred  beyond  the  shade  of  my  awning ; 
however,  towards  eve,  the  extreme  fervour  of  the  sun  being  a  little 
abated.  Old  Home  Twho  has  yet  a  colt's  tooth)  prevailed  upon  me  to  walk 
in  the  Botanic  Garaens,  where  not  unfrequentlv  are  to  be  found  certain 
youthful  animals  of  the  female  gender,  called  A9afatas  in  Pbrtuguese ;  a 
apeciea  between  a  bedchamber  woman  and  a  maid  of  honour.  The 
Queen  has  kindly  taken  the  ugliest  with  her  to  the  Caldas :  those  who 
remain  have  largpe  black  eyes  sparkling  with  the  true  spirit  of  adventure, 
an  exuberant  flow  of  dark  hair,  and  pouting  lips  of  the  colour  and  size  of 
full-blown  roses. 

**  All  this,  yoo  will  tell  me,  does  not  compose  a  perfect  beauty.  I  never 
qieant  to  convey  such  a  notion :  I  only  wish  you  to  understand  that  the 
nymphs  we  have  just  quitted  are  the  flowers  of  the  Queen's  flock,  and 
that  she  hasy  at  least*  four  or  five  dozen  more  in  attendance  upon  her 
sacred  person,  with  larger  mouths,  smaller  eyes,  and  swarthier  com- 
plexion&''— pp.  29 — 31. 

The  contrast  between  the  present  distracted  and  declined  state 
of  Portngal,  and  of  the  courtly  times  the  author  describes^  is  re- 
markable. He  was  invited  to  the  royal  convent  of  the  Necessidades^ 
to  see  the  ceremony  of  consecrating  a  bishop^  where  there  was  a 
mighty  glitter  of  crosses^  censers^  mitres  and  crosiers  continually 
in  motion,  as  several  bishops  assisted  in  all  their  pomp.  The  floor 
being  covered  with  rich  Persian  carpets  and  velvet  cushions,  ^^it 
was  pretty  good  kneeling.''  There  was  a  crowd  of  grandees  present 
in  shining  raiment,  who  put  on  most  woeful  contrite  countenances, 
*^axid  tbiwiped  tbeur  breast,  seeming  to  think  themselves,  as  most 
of  tihem  are,  miserable  sinners."  He  soon  after  goes  to  the  Mari- 
ahra-place  to  pay  the  grand  prior  a  visit,  who  seemed  to  have  a  de- 
cided taste  for  docks,  compasses  and  time-pieces.   Here  he  meets 

the  Count  of  V ,  Viceroy  of  Algarve,  who,  though  straddling 

and  making  wry  feces,  was  in  a  most  gracious  mood.  The  conver- 
sation ''was  limpingly •carried  on  in  a  great  variety  of  broken  lan- 
guages; Spanish,  Italian,  Portnguese,  French  and  English  had  each 
uieir  tnm  in  rapid  snccession.  The  subject  of  all  this  poly-glottery 
was  the  glories  and  piety  of  John  the  Fifth,  re^et  for  tne  extinc- 
tkn  of  the  Jesuits^  and  the  reverse  for  the  deaw  of  Pombal."  We 
smst  not  garble  the  witchery  of  delineation  that  follows  : — 

*  To  escape  the  long-winded  narrations  which  were  pouring  wami' 

d2 


M  H^,  with  Sketches  of  Spain  and  Pertu^ah 

iQito  my, ear,  I  took  refuge  aear  a  harpsichord,  where  Policarpio,  ode  of 
the  first  tenors  in  the  queen's  chapel  was  singing  and  accompanying 
himself.     The  curtains  of  the  door  of  an  adjoining  dark  apartment  being 

half  drawn,  gave  me  a  transient  glimpse  of  Donna  Henriquetta  de  L , 

Don  Pedro's  sister,  advancing  one  moment  and  retiring  the  next,  eager 
to  approach  and  examine  us  exotic  beings,  but  not  venturing  to  enter 
the  saloon  during  her  mother's  absence*  She  appeared  to  me  a  most 
interesting  giri,  with  eyes  full  of  bewitching  langour ; — ^but  of  what  do  I 
taJk,  1  only  saw  her  pale  and  evanescent,  as  one  fancies  one  sees  objects 
in  a  dream.  A  group  of  lovely  children  (her  sisters,  I  believe  J  sat  at  her 
feet  upon  the  ground,  resembling  gehii  partially  concealed  oy  folds  of 
drapery  in  some  grand  allegorical  picture  by  Rubens  or  Paul  Veronese. 

*•  Night  approaching,  lights  glimmered  on  the  turrets,  terraces,  and 
every  part  of  the  strange  huddle  of  buildings  of  which  this  morisco-look- 
ing  palace  is  composed;  half  the  family  were  engaged  in  reciting  the 
litanies  of  Stunts,  the  other  in  freaks  and  frolics,  perha|>8  of  no  very  edify- 
ing nature :  the  monotonous  staccato  of  the  guitar,  accompanied  by  the 
low  soothing  murmur  of  female  voices  singing  modinhas,  formed  altoge- 
ther a  strange  though  not  unpleasant  combination  of  sounds/'*— pp<  39, 40. 

We  have  next  some  splendid  paragraphs  devoted  to  the  old  Mar- 

Siis  of  M — ,  the  patriarch  of  the  Marialvas,  with  whom  Mr. 
eckford  partook  of  a  collation.  Not  less  than  fifty  servants  were 
in  waiting — wax  torches  and  tapers^  intermingled  with  silver  bra- 
siers   ana  cassolettes,  adding  to  the  charm  of  the  scene:— -» 

"  I  found  the  master  of  all  this  magnificence  most  courteous,  afiable, 
and  engaging.  There  is  an  urbanity  and  good-humour  in  his  looks,  ges- 
tures, and  tone  of  voice  that  prepossesses  instantaneously  in  his  favour, 
and  justifies  the  universal  popularity  he  enjoys,  and  the  affectionate  name 
of  father,  by  which  the  queen  and  royal  family  often  address  him.  All 
the  favours  of  the  crown  have  been  heaped  upon  him  by  the  present  and 
preceding  sovereigns,  a  tide  of  prosperity  uninterrupted  even  during  the 
grand  vizariat  of  Pombal.  '  Act  as  you  judge  wisest  with  the  rest  of  my 
nobility/  used  to  say  the  King  Don  Joseph  to  this  redoubted  minister; 
*  but  beware  how  you  interfere  with  the  Marquis  of  Marialva.' 

"  In  consequence  of  this  decided  predilection,  the  Marialva  Palace  be- 
came in  many  cases  a  sort  of  rallying  point,  an  asylum  for  the  oppressed  ; 
and  its  master,  in  more  than  one  instance,  a  shidLd  against  the  tiiander- 
bolts  of  a  too  powerful  minister.  The  recollections  of  these  timea  seem 
still  to  be  kept  alive  ;  for  the  heart-felt  respect,  the  filial  adoration,  I  saw 
paid  the  old  Marquis,  was  indeed  most  remarkable ;  his  slightest  glances 
were  obeyed,  and  the  person  on  whom  they  fell  seemed  gratified  and  ani- 
mated ;  his  sons,  the  Marquis  of  Tancos  and  Don  Jos^  de  Meneses*  never 
approached  to  offer  him  anything  without  bending  the  knee-;  and  the 
Cond^  de  Villaverde,  the  heir  of  the  great  house  of  Anjeja,  as  well  as  the 
Viceroy  of  Algarve,  stood  in  the  circle  which  was  formed  around  him»  re- 
cei^dng  a  kind  or  gracious  word  with  the  same  thankful  earnestness  as 
courtiers'-who  hang  upon  the  smiles  and  favour  of  their  sovereign^  I  shall 
long  remember  the  grateful  sensations  with  which  this  scene  of  reciprocal 
kindness  filled  me;  it  appeared  an  interchange  %>f  amiable  sentimeBta ; 
beneficence  diffused  without  guile  or  affectation,  and  protection  received 
without  sullen  or  abject  servility. 


Italy ^  with  Sketches  of  Spain  and  Portugal,  ^7 

"  How  preferable  is  patriarchal  government  of  this  nature  to  the  col4 
theories  pedantic  sophists  would  establish,  and  which,  should  success  at<J 
tend  their  selfish  atheistical  ravingps,  bid  fair  to  undermine  the  best  and 
surest  props  of  society.  When  parents  cease  to  be  honoured  by  their 
children,  and  the  feelings  of  grateful  subordination  in  those  of  helpless 
age  or  condition  are  unknown,  kings  will  soon  cease  to  reign,  and  repub- 
lics to  be  governed  by  experience ;  anarchy,  rapine,  and  massacre  will 
walk  the  earth,  and  the  abode  of  daemons  be  transformed  from  hell-  to  our 
unfc^tunate  planet." — ^j^.  44—46. 

We  every  where  meet  and  admire  the  finest  display  of  polished 
language^  shewing  how  perfectly  natural  it  is  to  the  author,  and  no 
doubt  but  a  sample  of  his  daily  and  habitual  phraseology.  He 
must  in  truth  have  been,  even  when  young,  an  ornament  to  the 
aristocracy.  It  will  be  long  before  radicalism  render  us  any  substi- 
tute that  practically  will  be  found  of  equal  value  to  such  an  orna- 
ment ;  not  to  speak  of  the  grander  matters  of  life  and  experieuce. 
But  the  scenes  he  describes  were  under  the  reign  of  Donna  Maria 
th^  First,  of  mild  and  beneficent  memory ; — there  have  been  other 
things  since  that  day  Enacted  and  displayed  in  Lisbon.  Time  will 
proye  how  another  Donna  Maria  will  be  spoken  of  by  strangers  and 
travellers. 

Here  is  a  dinner,  and  a  personage  or  two  hit  off  in  a  few  lines 
to  perfection.  Seldom  does  a  five  act  drama  draw  the  portraits  of 
its  chaxacters  half  so  well. 

"  To-day  we  were  engaged  to  dine  in  the  country  at  a  villa  belonging 
to  a  gentleman,  whose  volley  of  names,  when  pronounced  with  the  true 
Portuguese  twang,  sounds  like  an  expectoration — Jo&4  Street-Arriaga- 
Bnim  daSilveira.  Our  hospitable  host  is  of  Irish  extraction,  boasts  a  sta- 
ture of  six  feet,  proportionable  breadth,  a  ruddy  countenance,  herculean 
legs,  and  all  the  exterior  attributes,  at  least,  of  that  enterprising  race  who 
often  have  the  luck  of  marrying  great  fortunes.  About  a  year  or  two  ago 
be  bore  off  a  wealthy  Brazilian  heiress,  and  ia  now  master  of  a  large  estate 
and  a  fubsical,  squat  wife,  with  a  head  not  unlike  that  of  Holof ernes  in 
old  tapestry*  and  shoulders  that  act  the  part  of  a  platter  with  rather*too 
muck  exactitude.  Poor  soul !  to  be  sure,  she  is  neither  a  Venus  nor  a 
Hebe,  has  a  rough  lip,  and  a  manly  voice,  and  I  fear  is  somewhat  inclined 
ta  be  dropsical;  but  her  smiles  are  frequent  and  fondling,  and  she  cleaves 
to  her  husband  with  great  perseverance. 

*'  He  is  an  odd  character,  will  accept  of  no  employment,  civil  or  mili- 
tary, and  affects  a  bullying  frankness,  that  I  should  think  must  displease 
very  much  in  this  country,  where  independence  either  in  fortune  or  senti- 
ment is  a  crime  seldom  if  ever  tolerated. 

'*  Mr.  S likes  a  dbplay,  and  the  repast  he  gave  us  was  magnificent ; 

nxty  dishes  at  least,  eight  smoking  roasts,  and  every  ragout,  French, 
Banish  and  Portuguese,  that  could  be  thought  of.  The  dessert  appeared 
like  the  model  of  a  fortification.  The  principal  cake-tower  measured,  I 
dare  say,  three  feet  perpendicular  in  height.  The  company  was  not  equal 
either  in  muaber  or  consequence  to  the  splendour  of  the  entertainment.*' 
—pp.  61/  52. 


d8  Itafy^  With  Sketches  of  Spain  tmd  Pmrtugal. 

We  have  many  admirable  sketches  of  priestly  diaracier  and 
bigotted  people^  as  sarcastic  as  they  are  striking.  Behold  a  digni* 
(ary  of  the  diiirch: — 

*'  The  Archbishop  Confessor  displayed  his  goodly  person  at  one  of  the 
balconies ;  from  a  clown,  this  now  most  important  personage  became  a 
common  soldier,  from  a  common  soldier  a  coTx>oral,  from  a  corporal  a 
monk»  in  which  station  he  gave  so  many  proofs  of  toleration  and  good- 
humour,  that  Pombal,  who  happened  to  stumble  upon  him  by  one  of  those 
chances  which  set  all  calculation  at  defiance,  judged  bim  sufficiently 
shrewd,  jovial,  and  ignorant,  to  make  a  very  harmless  and  comfortable 
confessor  to  her  majesty,  then  ptiacess  of  Brazil :  since  her  accession  to 
the  throne,  he  is  become  axshWshop,  in  partibus,  grand  inquisitor,  and  the 
first  spring  in  the  present  government  of  PortugaL  I  never  saw  a  sturdier 
fellow.  He  seems  to  anoint  himself  with  the  oil  of  gladness,  to  laugh 
and  grow  fat  in  spite  of  the  critical  situation  of  afiaixs  in  this  kingdom* 
uid  the  just  fears  all  its  true  patriots  entertain  of  seeing  it  once  more  re- 
lapse into  a  Spanish  province." — pp.  72,  73. 

These  volumes  are  nothing  less  than  poetry  in  porose.  After  one 
short  extract  or  two  more,  we  must  no  longer  remain  in  Lisbon^ 
although  about  half  through  his  description  of  the  city.  The  mosie 
he  is  speaking  of  is  Brazilian  M odinas  :< — 

"  Those  who  have  never  heard  this  original  sort  of  mmde,  nrast  and  vrill 
remain  ignorant  of  the  most  bewitching  knelodies  that  ever  existed  rinoe 
the  days  of  the  Sybarites.  They  consist  of  languid  interrupted  me^l^ttrea. 
as  if  the  breadth  was  gone  with  excess  of  rapture,  and  the  soul  panting  to 
meet  the  kindred  soul  of  some  beloTcd  object.  With  a  childish  careless- 
ness they  steal  into  the  heart,  before  it  has  time  to  arm  itself  against  their 
enervating  influence ;  you  fancy  you  are  swallowing  milk,  and  are  admit* 
,ting  ^e  poison  of  voluptuonsness  into  the  closest  recesses  of  your  exist- 
ence. At  least,  such  beings  as  feel  the  power  of  hflormonious  sounds  are 
doing  so ;  I  won't  answer  for  hard-eared,  phlegmatic  northern  animals.'* 
—p.  74. 

The  account  of  a  cheerful  funeral  at  Cintra  must  not  be  passed 
over^  The  deceased  was  an  old  Englishwoman^  who  had  been  con- 
verted from  the  protestant  heresy,  and  great  were  the  rejoicings  on 
the  occasion  :< — 

**  There  was  sach  a  bustle  in  the  mterior  i^artment,  where  the  wretched 
corpse  was  deposited,  such  a  chaunting  and  pra3ring,  for  not  a  tongue 
was  idle,  that  my  head  swam  round,  and  I  took  refuge  by  the  grand  prior. 
He  by  no  means  relished  the  party,  and  kept  shrugging  up  his  shomders, 
and  saying  that  it  was  very  edifying — ^very  edifying  indeed,  and  that  Ac- 
eiaoli  had  been  extremely  alert,  and  deserved  great  commendation^  but 
that  so  much  fuss  might  as  wdl  have  been  spared. 

By  some  hints  that  dropped*  I  won't  say  from  whom,  I  discovered  the 
innocent  now  on  the  high  road  to  eternal  felicity  by  no  means  to  have  saf» 
fered  the  cup  of  joy  to  pass  by  untested  in  this  existence,  and  to  have 
lived  many  years  on  a  very  easy  footing,  not  only  with  a  stout  English 
bachelor,  but  with  several  others,  married  and  unmarried,  of  his  pajrtiea- 
lar  acquaintance.    However,  she  had  taken  a  sadden  taok  vpoa  finding 


ifdjr*  with  Sketches  of  Spain  and  Portugal.  39 

leiseM  driven  «pace  down  the  tide  of  a  rapid  consumption^  and  had  been 
fsiAj  towdd  into  port  hy  the  joint  efforts  of  the  Irish  hostess  and  tiie  mon- 
signori  Mascarenhas  and  Acciaoli. 

**  *'  Thrice  happy  Englishwoman/  exclaimed  M — a,  '  what  hick  is  thitie  f 
In  the  next  Wofrld  immediate  admisaon  to  Paradise,  and  in  this  thy  body 
#in  hare  the  pirond  di^nction  of  being  borne  to  liie  grave  by  men  of  tfaa 
highest  rank.    Was  there  ever  such  feUeity  ?" — ^pp.  151 — 153« 

Mr.  Beckford's  eminent  station  in  society^  wealth  and'  talents 
obtained  for  him  admission  and  even  admiration  among  the  higher 
orders  of  the  nobility  and  churchmen ;  ^nd  he  deals  with  them 
as  &eely,  and  sketches  off  their  manners  as  easily^  as  anv  fhmiliar 
acqwontaneeship  coiidd  doable  a  portrait  painter  to  do.  One  trutli 
K  clear  from  the  whole  of  his  delineations^  that,  whatever  be  the 

Si^  of  society  whose  principles  and  feelings  are  d^icted,  the  same 
tures,  this  same  virtues,  vices  atad  fiiilings  are  seen  uniformly  to 
p^vail — ^fch^  field  of  display  only  being  of  a  diiierent  character.  Of 
the  Grandees  of  Portugal,  as  described  by  the  author,  a  rather  good 
impression  is  conyeyea:  bigotry  and  priestcraft  colouring  and  oon- 
troling  every  otber  exhibition  of  their  common  nature.  Imme- 
diately beforaMr.  Beckfoid  left  Lisbon  and  Portugal,  which  he  did 
with  regret  and  with  the  kindest  feelings,  he  W9^  present  at  the 
Berfozxnance  of  the  dead  mass  at  the  church  of  Martyrs.  The  gran- 
ae^r.  of  the  exhibition  could  not  surpass  the  felicity  of  his  descrip- 
tion of  it. 

^  I  went  to  the  church  of  the  Martyrs  to  hear  the  matins  of  Perez  and 
the  dead  mass  of  Jomelli  performed  by  all  the  principal  musibiaos  of  the 
^yal  chapel  for  the  repose  of  the  souls  of  their  deceased  predecessors. 
Sti^h  august,  such  affecting  music  I  never  heard,  and  perhaps  may  never 
Yiekt  again ;  for  the  flame  of  devotit  enthusiasm  bums  dim  in  almost  every 
port  of  Ehux>pe,  and  threatens  total  extinction  in  a  very  few  years.  As 
y^  it  ^Ows  at  Lisbon,  and  produced  this  day  the  most  striking  musical 
effect. 

'*^  Every  individual  present  seemed  penetrated  with  the  spirit  of  those 
awful  words  which  Perez  and  Jomelli  have  set  with  tremendous  sublimi^. 
Not  only  the  music,  but  the  serious  demeanour  of  the  performers,  of  the 
officiating  priests,  and  indeed  of  the  whole  congregation,  was  calculated 
to  impress  a  solemn,  pious  terror  of  the  world  beyond  the  grave.  The 
sjA^endid  decoratiob  of  the  church  was  changed  into  mourning,  the  tribunes 
him^  with  black,  and  a  veil  of  gold  and  pui-ple  thrown  over  the  high  altar, 
hi'  the  midst  of  the  choir  stood  a  catafalque  surrounded  with  tapers  in 
lofty  candelabra,  a  row  of  priests  motionless  on  each  side.  There  was  an 
aw^  ^cnce  for  several  minutes,  and  then  began  the  solemn  service  of 
fiie  dead.  The  singers  turned  pale  as  they  sang,  '  Timor  mortis  me  ccm- 
turbat.'  ^  . 

*'  AYCer  the  requiem,  the  high  mass  of  Jomelli,  in  commemoration  of  the 
<!l^eased,  was  performed  ;  that  famous  composition  which  begins  with  a 

movement  imitative  of  the  tolling  of  bells, 

*      '  Swinging  Blow  with  tnlleB  roar.* 
llie^  deep,'  mt^tle  sounds,  mingled  with  others  like  the  cries  for  mercy 
ef'Widuif^f  ^>eing8/  MOnnd  whom  the  shiidows  of  death  and  the  pains  of 


40  Italy,  with  Sketch^  of  3pmn  md  Portugal. 

heti  wiere  gadieiing,  skook  every  nerve  in  my  fmne,  and  called  up'^  nf 
recollection  bo  many  affecting  images,  that  I  could  not  refrain  from  teisa. 
J'  I  scarcely  knew  how  I  was  conveyed  to  the  palace,  where  Marialva 
expected  my  coming  with  the  utmost  impatience.  Our  conversation  took 
a  most  serious  turn.  He  entreated  me  not  to  forget  Portugal,  to  me<fitate 
upon  the  awful  service  I  had  been  hearing,  and  to  remember  he  should  not 
die  in  peace  unless  I  was  present  to  close  his  eyes." — ^pp.  253— *255. 

But  we  must  part  with  Mr.  Beckford  at  Madrid^  and  leave  him 
in  the  Escurial,  a  suitable  part  to  take  a  farewell  of  these  fine 
brilliant  and  imaginative  volumes.  We  string  part  of  two  chaptears 
together. 

*'  The  Escurial,  though  overhung  by  melancholy  mountaim,  is  placed 
itself  on  a  very  considerable  eminence,  up  which  we  were  fiiU  half  an 
hour  toiling,  the  late  rains  having  washed  this  part  of  the  road  into  utter 
confusion.  There  is  something  most  severely  impressive  in  the  facade  of 
this  regal  convent,  which,  like  the  palace  of  Persepolis,  is  overshadowed  by 
the  adjoining  mountain ;  nor  did  I  pass  through  a  vaulted  cloister  into  the 
court  before  the  church,  solid  as  if  hewn  out  of  a  rock,  without  expe* 
riencing  a  sort  of  shudder,  to  which  no  doubt  the  vivid  recollection  of  the 
black  and  blood-stained  days  of  our  gloomy  queen  Mary's  husband  not 
slightly  contributed.  The  sun  being  again  overcast,  the  porches  of  the 
church  surmounted  by  grim  statues,  appeared  so  dark  and  cavern-like, 
that  I  thought  myself  about  to  enter  a  subterraneous  temple  eet  apart  for 
the  service  of  some  mysterious  and  terrible  religion.  And  when.l  saw  the 
high  altar,  in  all  its  pomp  of  jasper  steps,  ranks  of  columns  one  above  the 
other,  and  paintings  filling  up  every  interstice,  full  before  me,  I  felt  com- 
pletely awed." 

"  TTie  prior,  who  is  not  easily  pleased,  seemed  to  have  suspicioivs  that 
the  seriousness  of  my  demeanour  was  not  entirely  orthodox ;  I  overheard 
him  saying  to  Roxas,  '  shall  I  shew  him  the  Angel's  feather  ?  you  know  we 
do  not  display  this  our  most- valued,  incomparable  relic  to  every  body,  nor 
unless  upon  special  occasions. — '  The  occasion  is  sufficiently  special/ 
answered  my  partial  friend :  '  the  letters  I  brought  to  you  are  your  war* 
rant,  and  I  beseech  your  reverence  to  let  us  look  at  this  gift  of  heaven, 
which  I  am  extremely  anxious  myself  to  adore  and  venerate.' 

*' Forth  stalked  the  prior,  and  drawing  out  from  a  remarkably  lai^ 
cabinet,  an  equally  capacious  sliding  shelf— (the  source,  I  conjecture,  of 
the  potent  odour  I  complained  of)— displayed,  lying  stretched  out  upon  a 
quilted  silken  mattress,  the  most  glorious  specimen  of  plumage  ever  beheld 
in  terrestrial  regions — a  feather  from  the  wing  of  the  Archangel  Gabriel 
full  three  feet  long,  and  of  a  blushing  hue  more  soft  and  delicate  than  that 
of  the  loveliest  rose.  I  longed  to  ask  at  what  precise  moment  this  trea." 
sure  had  been  dropped — whether  from  the  air — on  the  open  ground,  or 
within  the  walls  of  the  humble  tenement  at  Nazareth ;  but  I  repressed  all 
questions  of  an  indiscreet  tendency — the  why  and  wherefore,  the  when 
and  how,  for  what  and  to  whom  such  a  palpable  manifestation  of  archan- 
gelic  beauty  and  wingedness  had  been  vouchsafed. 

"  He  led  the  way  through  a  labyrinth  of  cloisters,  gloomy  as  the  gmve  ( 
till  ordering  a  grated  door  to  be  thrown  open,  the  light  of  our  flambeaax 
fell  upon  a  flight  of  most  beautiful  marble  steps,  polished  as  a  marror, 
leading  down  between  walls  of  the  rarest  jaspers  to  a  portal  of  no  gre^t 


i,h\A  ennobed  witb-bnluBten  of  ridi  faroQze>  seolpbirad  arcUt>«Te% 
«fed  fe^Uelii  of  inacnptioaiB,  in  a  style  of  the  greatest  magmficenoe. 
,  "  As  I  descended  the  steps^  a  gurgling  sound,  like  that  of  a  rivulet, 
eaugbt  my  ear.  '  What  mecuis  this  ?'  said  I.  '  It  means/  answered  'the 
moo^, '  tluBLt  the  sepulchral  cave  on  the  left  of  the  stairs*  where  repose  the 
bodies  of  many  of  our  queens  and  infantas,  is  properly  ventilated,  running 
water  being  excellent  for  that  purpose.*  I  went  on,  not  lulled  by  these 
rippling  murmurs,  but  chilled  when  I  reflected  through  what  precincts 
flows  this  river  of  death. 

'  •*  Arrived  at  the  bottom  ot  the  stairs,  we  passed  through  the  portal  just 
tnentioned,  and  entered  a  circular  saloon,  not  more  than  five-and-thlrty 
feet  in  diameter,  characterized  by  extreme  elegance,  not  stem  solemnity. 
The  regal  saroc^hagi,  rich  in  golden  ornaments,  ranged  one  above  the 
ather»  forming  panels  of  the  most  decorative  kind ;  ^e  lustre  of  exqui- 
sitely sculptured  bronze,  the  pavement  of  mottled  alabaster ;  in  short,  this 
giaeeful  tomb,  covered  with  scrcdls  of  the  most  delicate  foliage,  i^peared 
to  the  eye  of  my  imagination  more  like  a  subterraneous  boudoir,  prepared 
by  some  gallant  young  magician  for  the  reception  of  an  enchanted  and 
enchanting  princess,  than  a  temple  consecrated  to  the  king  of  terrors." — 
pp.  816—327. 

Abx«.  IV. — Discoveries  in  Asia  Minor^  including  a  Descriptum  of  the  Ruins 
vf  seuerul  audewt  Cities.  By  the  Rev.  F.  V.  J.  Abundbll;     3  Vols. 
.    8fO.    London;  Bentley.  1834' 

If  Mr.  Artindell  has  been  tempted,  by  the  success  and  popularity 
vrUch  has  lately  attended  the  ^publication  of  several  of  the  nume- 
roufl   travels  into   the   eastern  parts   of  the  world,  with  which 
Europeans  have  hitherto  been  very  imperfectly  acquainted,  he  has 
presumed  too  much  upon  his  own  exertions  and  the  good  nature  of  ^ 
the  reading  public.     We  must  say,  the  work  before  us  is  very  un* 
satisfactory.     The  discoveries  he  makes  are  meagre ;  the  manner 
in  which  he  proceeded  to  work,  imperfect  and  injudicious;  and  the 
time  he  took  in  performing  the  duty  he  allotted  himself,  quite  inade- 
Guate.     That  he  has  added  to  our  geographical  knowledge  consi- 
dimbly  catoot  be  denied.     The  discovery  of  the  precise  site  of 
Antioeh  of  Pisidia  is  an  important  particular,  not  merely  on  ac- 
count of  the  eminent  character  it  had  in  ancient  times,  but  as  a 
key  to  the  geography  and  topography  of  the  adjacent  countries. 
But  this,  and  all  else  that  he  has  oone,  is  quite  disproportioned  to 
what  one  would  desire  to  find  in  such  a  field  of  ancient  renown  as 
)l.esser  Asia;  and,  we  must  add,  to  the  size  of  the  goodly  volomes, 
^hat  announce  themselves  as  containing  discoveries. 
.  The  manner  of  his  procedure,  and  the  taste  displayed  in  narra*- 
ting  ity  lure  not  much  better.     In  our  perusal  of  the  work,  we  have 
n^ore  than  once  put  the  question  to  oursdves  what  would  Liente* 
imxA  Bumesi  whose  travels  into  Bokhara  we  had  not  long  ago  oo- 
casioD  to  read,  have  done  in  such  a  prolific  territory  as  Lesser  Asia. 
Thii  maaly,  judicious,  and  enterprising  gentleman  would  have 
k«f4  up,  iuid  in  a  great  measure  satisfied,  the  earnest  and  solemn 


4S  DikemteirU9  •»'  AsiM  Mk»r. 

kmgfingsr  of  tfaelmDrt^  regarding  did  iand  atid  t&e  dties^irfaidi  (he 

{ersecuted  and  migbty  St.  Paul  has  consecrated  with  an  unparel^ 
^led  interest,  instead  of  blunting  our  eagerness^  and  quenching  our 
religious  enthusiasm^  as  the  work  before  us,  has  in  some  measure 
done.  But  we  must  come  to  the  inmiediate  duty  imposed  upon  us^ 
and  give  our  readers  as  deep  an  insight  as  our  limits  will  permit^ 
respecting  Mr.  Arundell's  discoveries^  which  we  will  attempt  to  do^ 
by  accompanying  him  on  his  way. 

In  October  1833,  the  author,  along  n^h  Mr.  Dethier,  the  accre- 
dited agent  of  the  Belgian  government,  left  Smyrna  with  some  other 
attea^ants,  and  proceeded  by  Nymphi  and  Cassaba  to  Sardis*  Be- 
tween the  two  hrat  named  towns,  a  spectacle  pres^ited  itself,  which 
the  author  tells  us  is  frequently  to  be  seen  since  the  destruetioit 
of  the  Janissaries  and  the  establishment  of  regular  troops.  This 
Was  a  number  of  lads,  few  of  them  above' fifteen  years  of  age,  who 
were  tied  together  with  strong  ropes,  like  a  caravan  of  camels 
guarded  by  Turks.  The  boys  did  not  seem  reluctant ;  but  one 
poor  woman  followed  them,  evidently  the  mother  of  one  of  them, 
m  all  the  agony  of  despair.  ^^  But  where  is  the  difference,  says  our 
author,  betweaa  those  recruits  and  the  conscripts  of  civilized 
France,  or  the  victims  of  a  pressgang  in  enlightened  and  rdigious 
Englaad  ?"  For  some  distance  after  this,  they  encountered  BoShing 
*^  more  remarkable  than  several  caravans  of  camels,  having  a  horse 
for  their  leader,  instead  of  tibeir  usual  conducteuVyBJi  ass  !  And 
this  on  the  venr  plains  where  Cyrus  owed  his  victory  over  CrcBSos, 
chiefly  to  the  horror  which  the  horses  of  that  day  had  for  the  gen** 
tleman  of  the  hunch-back."  Upon  this  last  sentence,  we  have 
only  to  remark,  that  such  is  the  sort  of  witticism  the  reverend  gen- 
tleman is  much  in  the  habit  of  using  in  the  course  of  these  volumes. 
Whether  the  display,  be  natural  light,  and  pungent,  or  forced  and 
unbecoming,  is  left  to  our  readers.  The  author,  however,  who 
seems  to  be  an  amiable  religious  man,  though  too  ^equently  sickly 
in  taste,  as  he  is  (and  we  are  sorry  to  loam  it)  in  body,  is  brought 
into  our  favour  by  the  following  passages,  ana  indeed  tlnrouig^out 
the  work,  by  similar  proofe  of  zeal  and  seriousness  : — ^ 

"  A  much  more  interesting  object  was  now  the  Acropolis  of  Bardis  rising 
before  us,  and  presenting  a  striking  resemblance  to  the  mountain  abovd 
the  town  of  Zonte,  and  the  soft  sand-stone  rock  distorted  and  rent  in  ihti 
szcme  extraordinary  manner,  and  perhaps  by  the  same  agency,  of  earth- 
quakes. 

"  With  our  eyes  fixed  on  this  crumblirig  monuinent  of  the  grandeur  and 
nothingness  of  man,  and  looking  in  vain  for  the  city,  whose  multitudes 
lie  under  the  countless  sepulchral  hillocks  on  the  other  side  of  the  Hdrmus, 
we  arrived  at  what  was  once  thi^  metropolis  of  Lydia. 

"If  I  should  be  asked  what  impresses  the  mind  most  strongly,  on  be- 
holding Sardis,  I  should  say,  its  indescribable  solitude,  like  the  darkneds  va. 
Egyi^,  darkness  that  could  be  felt.  So  the  deep  solitude  of  the  spot, 
once  the  *lady  ofkiMgdoms*  produces  a  corresponding  feeling  o(  de^oUiie 
abandonmetU  in  the  mind,  which  can  never  be  fcnr^otten. 


*tGciiiiwct  tbhtetiiig  witii  1^  nietsage  ofApomitypfle  thedmreh 
o(  Sardb : — 'Hioo  bf^  a  name  that  thou  livest,  and  art  dmid^  I  wiU 
come-  on  thee  as  a  thief ;  and  thou  aha  not  know  at  what  hour  I  will 
come  upon  thee  ;"-^and  then  look  round  and  ask,  wl^ere  are  the  churches* 
where  are  the  Christians  of  Sardis?  The  tiimuli  beyond  the  Hermus 
feply,  **Att  dead!'*  Suffering  the  infliction  of  the  threatened  judgment  of 
6od  for  the  abuse  of  their  privileges.  Let  the  unbeliever  then  be  asked, 
is  diere  no  truth  in  prophecy  ?  no  reality  in  religion  ?" — ^pp.  S7»  28. 

Tin  traveUera  amve  at  Koola,  after  passing,  in  their  approach  to 
the  town,  through  the  midst  of  Iftira,  the  ground  heing  cov^ed 
with  saall  ▼olcanie  stones.  Koola  contains  about  fifteen  hundred 
hoQscB^  one-tenth  of  which  are  Grtesk.  It  is  supposed  by  Cohmel 
Ikeake  to  stand  on  the  site  of  the  ancient  M ssonia,  though  this  s 
ct  varianoe  with  Pliny's  account.  The  wtnnen  of  this  town  are  de» 
scribed  ee  very  beaatifol.  The  tidgea  of  lava  are  numerous  aK 
ftronnd,  and  the  road,  which  passes  through  the  once  melted  and 
burning  stones^  rough,  and  frequently  steep.  They  ascend  what  he 
is  assured  was  the  Acropolis  of  the  town  of  Tabala,  but  found 
nothing  more  indicative  of  what  such  a  city  had  been  than  frag^ 
ments  of  walls,  cisterns,  and  houses.  The  eountry  increased  every 
step,  they  now  took,  in  interest  for  the  geologist ;  and  on  various 
gnMmds,  the  author  Uunhs  that  the  sea  nad  at  one  time  reached 
to  those  parts*  But  we  cannot  enter  upon  his  conjectures  and  rea- 
ionong.  We  go  on  to  the  village  of  Achmatk,  where  the  trav^llerd 
aiB  lodged  at  an  Oda,  a  charitdble  and  hospitable  place  of  enter- 
taiiunent  and  protection,  well  worth  a  notice  : — 

*'  It  was  not  till]the  present  journey  that  I  was  aware  of  ^e  precise  na- 
ture of  these  Odas,  and  of  their  universality  throughout  Asia  Minor.  They 
are  not  endowed  or  supported  by  the  government,  but  are  entirely  private 
charities.  One  at  least  is  to  be  found  in  every  village  throughout  the 
country,  and  often  several  in  a  small  village.  The  original  founder  charges 
his- estate,  be  it  great  or  little,  with  the  perpetual  maintenance  of  the 
Oda ;  and  it  seems  in  most  cases  to  be  tiie  tenure  by  which  the  estate 
k  heU*  Nor  is  this  confined  to  the  wealthy ;  it  as  frequently  happens  that 
even  a  poor  man,  whose  little  spot  of  ground  is  barely  sufficient,  after 
paying,  the  Aga's  decimes,  &c.  to  find  bread  for  his  children,  charges 
them  .to  keep  a  chamber  (perhaps  the  whole  house  has  only  two)  as  an 
Oda  for  the  stranger.  No  questions  are  asked  of  this  stranger  whether 
he  be  a  disciple  of  the  prophet,  a  Christian,  or  a  Jew — it  is  enough  that 
he  is  a  stranger,  and  needs  the  rights  of  hospitality.  He  is  provided  gratu- 
itously with  food»  and  fuel,  and  lodging,  and  even  the  liberality  is  ex- 
tended to  his  beast. 

"We  abuse  the  Turk,  and  call  hima  barbarian ; .  but  where  is  the  country 
in  civilized  Europe,  that  a  poor,  distressed  traveller,  faint  and  sinkiag 
under  his  privations^,  and  without  a  farthing  to  procure  a  bit  qi  bread,  or 
ashed  to  shelter  him  from  the  winter's  storm — where  is  that  country  ? — 
let  the  abusers  of  the  uncivilized  Turk  answer  the  question— where  is 
that  country  in  which  such  a  poor  wretch  will  find  from  village  to  village 
a  warm-hearted  reception,  lo<^ing,  and  food?" — pp.  72, 73, 


44  Discoveries  in  Ash  Minor, 

A  few  hours  after  leaving  Achmatlaj  they  come  to  the  neighbour* 
hood  of  the  ruins  of  a  place  caDed  Suleiman^  hitherto  wholly  un- 
known to  Europeans,  an  important  part  of  their  projected  tour. 
On  ascending  the  Acropolis,  they  discovered  extensive  and  magni- 
ficent ruins,  which  are  minutely  described,  and  all  around  innume- 
rable tombs,  many  of  which  are  converted  into  capital  houses  for 
bufialoes,  being  excavated  in  the  mountain,  the  summit  of  which 
is  crowned  with  the  ruins  alluded  to.  The  account  given  of  these 
is  much  too  long  to  be  here  quoted.  The  author,  however,  conjec- 
tures tliat  this  place  is  Clanudda,  which  name,  he  tells  us,  occurs 
in  the  Roman  Itinerary,  called  the  Pentinger  Tables.  We  can 
aSbid  only  as  much  as  to  show  the  magnitude  of  prostrate  gran- 
deur, which,  Mr.  Arundell  says,  would  afford  them  ample  scope  for 
a  month's  research;  the  tombs,  as  he  thinks,  containing  treasures, 
and  probably  many  curious  specimens  of  ancient  paintings  :— 

"  The  road  leading  round  the  east  or  south-east  side  brought  us  first  to 
tlie  theatre,  of  which  the  remains  of  seats  are  few,  though  enough  of  the 
basement  of  the  proscenium  remains  to  determine  its  form ;  the  breadth 
being  about  ninety-feet. . 

''  Beyond  and  above  this,  the  wall  of  the  acropolis  is  seen  extending  a 
considerable  way ;  and,  entering  through  a  ruined  dourwayi  we  came  to 
what  at  first  appeared  to  be  the  stadium,  a  long  and  narrow  hollow  with 
remains  of  entrances  on  the  north  side ;  but  we  changed  our  opinions  af- 
terwards-—it  may  have  been  a  portico. 

«« Near  this  is  an  arch  more  than  half  buried,  and  a  few  yards  beyond, 
towards  the  north  or  north-east,  are  the  considerable  remains  of  a  large 
gateway  of  yeUow  stone,  with  some  fragments  of  an  earlier  date. 

"  Arrived  here^  we  could  perceive  that  we  were  on  a  tongue  of  land  or 
isthmus ;  the  acropolis  on  three  sides  being  nearly  a  precipice,  and  on  the 
north,  or  fourth,  defended  by  the  city  wall,  of  which  this  gateway  formed 
the  entrance,  at  the  neck  of  the  isthmus,  being  here  only  about  seventy- 
feet- wide. 

''Passing  through  the  gate  and  without  the  walls,  on  a  narrow  temce* 
overlooking  a  valley  of  great  depth,  are  the  basement  and  members  of  a 
temple  of  white  sculptured  marble;  a  little  beyond  which,  the  prostrate 
remains  of  another  temple  ;  which,  from  the  beautiful  Ionic  ornaments, 
we  shall  call  an  Ionic  temple,  if  the  remains  of  a  statue  of  Roman  cos- 
tume, probably  an  emperor,  did  not  make  it  more  probable  that  the  order 
was  composite.  Still  farther  on  the  same  continued  line,  the  basementj 
elevated  on  some  steps,  of  another  and  smaller  temple. 

'*  Immediately  in  front  of  this  last  temple,  on  the  brow  of  the  mountain 
or  terrace  overlooking  the  valley,  are  three  arches,  about  fifteen  feet  wide, 
and  ten  feet  high ;  there  are  appearances  of  other  arches  continued  some 
way  beyand. — ^pp.  81 — 83. 

It  is  vexatious  when  we  are  told  by  the  author  that  they  were 
compelled  to  leave  such  a  scene,  compelled  merely  by  their  own 
arrangements ;  and  this  it  is,  that  makes  us  almost  regret  they 
entered  upon  the  field  at  all.  But  we  hope  their  meagre  notice  of 
the  ruins  at  Suleiman,  will  be  sufiicieut  to  prompt  more  indefatiga- 
ble tourists  to  explore  the  same  parts.     It  is  not  by  any  means 


IHscweries  in  Asia  Mitt&r,  45 

the  only  occasrion,  however,  which  the  author  affords  us  reason  to 
blame,  or  at  least  lament,  the  hurried  manner  in  which  his  enter-} 
prize  was  conducted.  What  indeed  could  be  expected  of  travds 
into  unknown  districts,  those  too  of  Lesser  Asia,  though  now  a 
land  of  barbarism  and  ignorance,  yet  so  '^  exuberant,"  as  he  says, 
in  antiquities,  that,  with  no  better  implement  than  a  penknife,  you 
may  dig  up  bags  full  of  medals  and  vases  wherever  you  please, 
when  those  travels  only  occupied  six  weeks  ! 

The  author,  however,  gives  a  ground  plan  of  the  ruins  at  Sulei*- 
man  or  Clanudda,  and  there  is  a  lithographic  view  of  the  localities 
and  mountain,  crowned  by  the  Acropolis,  beautifully  executed, 
which  help  to  make  amends  for  the  want  of  more  precise  matter. 
He  is  now  in  Phrygia,  and  this  leads  us  to  observe,  that  the  map 
gtvefi,  is,  we  think,  v&ry  correct,  and  certainly  very  intelligible.. 
Kobek  is  ihe  place  next  described,  *^  of  prepossessing  appearance, 
with  il3B  minarets  and  oonac."  The  columns  and  other  fragments 
brought  from  Suleiman,  not  for  distant,  are  numerous  and  abun- 
dant. But  mark  the  tantalizing  information  :i — *^  If  a  traveller  could 
remain  a  day  here  (it  is,  gentle  reader,  only  one  day,  in  Mr.  Aran- 
dell's  book  of  discoveries)  and  be  permitted  to  see  the  inscriptions 
which  unquestionably  must  exist  in  the  mosques  and  private  houses, 
(and  we  say,  from  his  own  narrative,  all  this  is  uvquestionably 
eafijiy  obtained),  the  name  of  the  city  of  Suleiman  would  speedily, 
be  brought  to  light.  Speedily  is  the  word,  and  our  discoverer 
would  not  remain  to  do  a  thing  speedily.  We  are  waxing  wroth, 
a  thing  unusual  and  inconvenient  to  us,  and  therefore  pass  we  on 
to  matter  for  the  faculty,  found  at  the  next  village : — 

"  Mtmday,  Oct  22. — ^The  elevated  situation  of  Cuselare  appears  so  fa- 
▼oimble  to  health,  and  the  general  appearance  of  the  villagers  bore  such. 
evidence  of  its  being  so,  that  we  were  surprised  to  have  our  researches  of 
Beah-sher  delayed  till  ten  o'clock,  by  the  multitude  of  patients  coming  to 
consult  the  Hakim. 

••  Onr  medical  science  was  not  sufficiently  profound  to  decide  correctly- 
on  the  nature  of  the  disorder — ^for  all  were  effected  precisely  in  the  same 
way,  with  tumours  and  boils  behind  the  ears,  on  the  breast,  hands,  and 
feet.  The  females  and  children  were  most  severely  attacked,  and  it  was 
not  a  passing  epidemic,  but  a  disorder  long  seated  in  the  village,  and, 
as  ftor  as  we  could  learn,  the  only  disorder  it  was  subject  to. 

**  Possibly  £he  scarcity  of  water,  and  that  of  an  indifferent  quality,maybe 
the  prmci^l  cause.  In  addition  to  our  pill-box,  we  thought  the  hot  baths* 
wMch  we  heard  of  as  being  about  two  hours  to  the  south  of  Cuselare,  might 
be  beneficial,  and  recommended  them  to  our  patients." — ^pp.  100,  101, 

There  are  ample  grounds,  we  tliink,  for  blaming  Mr.  Arundell 
very  roundly,  for  the  hasty  and  sometimes  slovenly  way  in  which  he 
dis|)Oses  of  things,  from  whom  we  expected  to  hear  and  learn  a  great 
ieaL  We  must  not,  however,  withhold  something  like  an  apology, 
suggested  by  a  letter  written  by  Kyriacos,  one  of  his  companions, 
vIk)  thus  expressed  himself  from  the  neighbourhood  of  (he  scenes 


46  IXfComri^'m  Asia  MMn 

ottr  antkor  i»  traver^g,  in  the  year  1827^  when  tradmg  in  carpetp^ 
which  are  exclusively  aealt  in  at  those  quarters  : — 

**•  How  IB  it  possible  to  get  information  respecting  ancient  remains  frajii 
barbarians  without  an  atom  of  cuiiositv,  and  who,  whenever  such  questions 
are  asked,  nerer  fail  to  suspect  that  the  inquirer  has  ever  in  view  the  dis* 
covery  of  hidden  treasures,  which  treasures  they  finnly  believe  to  be 
under  safe  keeping  of  spirits  and  demons,  insomueh  that  they  thiiik  the 
very  treasure  itself  (the  pieces  of  money)  have  the  virtue  to  drive  aw&y 
spirits,  and  that  therefore  we  inquire  th^  names  and  situataon  of  roads^ 
of  ruins,  and  towns,  that  we  may  be  the  better  informed  where  tadig  fer 
treasures.  This  behef  is  firmly  fixed  in  the  minds  of  both  Gtreeks  and 
Turks;  and,  in  addition  to  this, they  think  that  the  search  for  old  remain* 
is  only  pretence  to  get  better  information  to  betray  the  places  to  the  eae* 
my  of  the  Turks.  Now,  since  this  is  the  case,  you  will  be  satisfied  at 
present  with  the  imperfect  information  I  am  able  to  give.'* — pp^  111,  11 2^ 

*' We  pass  over  various  references  to  the  author's  former  ioumey 
to  some  of  the  towns  mentioned^  which  has  been  heretofore  pubHshed, 
and  some  long  yams  told  by  an  old  blind  Turk,  which  swell  the 
work,  without  adding  much  additional  light  to  Lesser  Asia.  He 
gains  Ishekli,  which  he  asserts  positively,  on  the  evidence  of 
mscriptions,  stands  on  the  site  of  the  ancient  city  of  Euroenia ;  and 
soon  after  Decnare,  ascertained,  he  also  tells  us,  to  be  where  stood 
Apamea,  celebrated  firom  its  connection  with  the  name  of  Cicero 
and  other  eminent  Romans.  These  discoveries,  however,  are  not 
the  result  of  this  journey.  The  appearances  at  this  latter  place 
have  been,  in  the  course  of  ages,  greatly  altered  by  earthquakes,  so 
as  to  render  it  extremely  difHcult  now  to  follow  ancient  historians. 
Here  are  highly  entertaining  conjectores  connected  with  Apamea,, 

**  Severely  as  Apamea  has  suffered  in  all  periods  of  her  history  from  earth- 
quakes, she  was  not  included  in  the  list  of  the  twelve  cities  of  Asia  which 
were  overthrown  in  the  fifth  year  of  Tiberius,  and  therefore  the  descrip- 
tions which  I  found,  and  which  are  published  in  my  first  journey,  do  not 
relate  to  the  liberality  of  that  emperor,  but  to  a  subsequent  earthquake 
in  the  reign  of  Tiberius  Claudius,  mentioned  by  Tacitus:  'To  the  citLr 
zens  of  Apamea,  whose  city  had  been  overthrown  by  an  earthquake,  the 
tribute  was  remitted  for  five  years*.**     This  was  A.U.  807.  and  A.  54. 

**  It  is  a  curious  coincidence,  and  well-  worthy  attention,  for  I  do  not 
recollect  to  have  ever  seen  it  mentioned,  that  the  earthquake  which  hap- 
pened at  Philippi,  and  by  which  the  doors  of  Paul's  prison  wei^  opened, was 
the  year  53,  perhaps  a  few  months  only  before  the  tribute  was  remitted  to 
the  citizens  of  Apamea.  Now,  an  earthquake  sufficiently  strong  to  over<- 
throw  a  city  in  Asia  Minor  would  be  felt  strongly  also  in  the  remoter 
distances  of  Macedonia — sufficiently  strong,  perhaps,  to  open  the  bars  « 
of  a  prison  door.  The  gpreat  earthquake  at  Aleppo  was  felt  severely  in 
Smyrna,  though  no  buildings  were  thrown  down.  As  God  often  works 
miracles  even  by  natural  causes,  so  the  prison  doors  being  opened  to 
Paul  by  the  earthquake  would  still  be  the  effect  of  divine  agency.  Does 
not  this  fact  afford  much  internal  evidence  of  the  truth  of  the  sacred  his- 
torians, —pp.  206,  207. 

Again, 

"^*t  tradition  has  honoured  Apamea  by  connecting  it  with  an  event 


JH»em>erie»  in  Asia  Mmor.  47 

which  has  produced  more  impprtant  cbaageB  in  the  wodd  thao  eaxi^ 
quakes — the  general  deluge,  la  the  Sybilluie  verses,  which  though  pro- 
bably spurious^  are  very  ancient,  we  are  told  that  Mount  Ararat,  on  which 
die  ark  rested,  is  on  the  confines  of  Phrygia,  at  the  sources  of  the  river 
Margyas,  and  hence  it  is  supposed  that  Apameawas  called  Apamea  Kiob- 
tos,  or  Apamea,  the  ark,  distinguishiiig  it  from  other  cities  of  the  same 
name. 

••  'The  aric,*  says  Bochart,  '*  a  Ktde  while  after  the  subsidence  of  the 
waters  of  the  deluge,  is  said  by  Moses  to  have  rested  upon  the  mountains 
Aficat.'  In  what  part  of  the  world  are  these  mountains  ?  Ilie  Sybil- 
line  verses  decide  the  question. 

^ '  On  the  frontiers  oiF  the  black  Phrygia  rises  a  lofty  mountain,  called 
Ararat. 

'*  If,  then,  we  may  believe  the  Sibyl,  Mount  Ararat  was  in  Phrygia ; 
and,  if  we  would  know  the  precise  spot  in  Phrygia,  she  will  tell  as  it  was 
'  at  the  sources  of  the  great  river  Marsyas.' 

"  If  you  are  still  incredulous,  the  Sibyl  will  kindly  offeir  her  personal 
testimony  to  the  fact ;  and  that  you  may  admit  she  is  a  competent  witness, 
she  tells  you  she  is  no  less  a  personage  than  the  daughter-in-law  of  Noahj^ 
whether  wife  of  Shem,  Ham,  or  Japhet,  does  not  appear,  and  was  of  the 
happy  number  who  escaped  the  destroying  waters." — ^pp.  208 — 210. 
'  This  latter  conjecture  is  much  and  strongly  opposed  by  various 
i^ts  and  theories,  which  we  have  not  room  to  discuss.  Although  no 
niention  is  made  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles  of  Apemea  having  been 
dislinguished  by  the  presence  of  St.  Paul,  our  author,  with  good 
reason,  supposes,  since  it  was  only  inferior  to  Laodicea  and 
Ephesus,  that  it  must  have  been  included,  when  he  is  said  to  have 
gone  ^*  throughout  Phrygia,  and  the  region  of  Galilee. "  Be  this  as 
it  may,  the  ruins  of  an  ancient  church  were  discovered  there  by  Mr. 
Arundell  and  his  friends. 

•'  This  church  \&  constructed  of  very  large  blocks  of  grey  marble,  with- 
out cement,  having  on  many  of  the  blocks  single  Greek  letters,  to  guide 
the  workmen  to  their  proper  position,  and  therefore  possibly  belonging  to 
some  eaxHer  edifice. 

"The  length  within  the  great  edifice  is  nearly  sixty  feet,  and  the  breadth 
forty-five  feet.  The  breadth  of  the  inner  portico  fifteen  feet ;  and  at  each 
side  of  the  portico,  connected  with  it  by  a  door- way,  is  a  small  inclosed 
space  of  fifteen  feet  square.  The  outer  portico  is  seventy-five  feet  wide 
add  fifteen  in  breadth.  This  Ls  open  in  front,  and  had  probably  a  row  of 
ccdumns,  though  there  are  no  remains  of  any ;  and  as  the  ground  falls  in 
front,  there  was  probably  an  ascent  of  some  steps. 

"  At  the  eastern  end,  for  ^he  building  stood  east  and  west,  is  the  Bema^ 
a  semicircle  of  fifteen  feet  wide  and  about  nine  feet  deep. 

"  The  inner  portico  had  three  doors  of  entrance  into  the  church,  the 
centre  or  grand  entrance,  and  a  smaller  one  on  either  side. 

••  On  several  of  the  blocks  is  the  Greek  cross,  but  apparently  cut  in  later 
times. 

"  U]:km  many  of  the  tombs  on  the  hill  below  the  church,  the  cross  is 
ilso  to  be  seen  ;  Christian  sepulchres  of  a  very  early  date." — ^pp.  217, 218. 

We  now  come  to  the  "  principal  objects  proposed  by  the  author 
in  this  journey — the  discovery  of  the  city  of  Antioch^  in  Pisidia,. 


48  Discoveries  in  Asia  Minor. 

and  the  towns  of  Lystra  and  Derbe^  places  possessing  so  mucli 
interest  from  the  Inoours  and  sufferings  of  St.  Paul^  and  yet  the 
very  situation  of  all  three  is  wholly  unknown  in  modern  geography." 
Twenty-five  miles  distance  from  Apamea  they  discovered  the  noble 
remains  of  the  town  of  ApoUonia,  at  a  place  called  Olou-bourlou. 
Here  the  Acropolis  is  a  naked  perpendicular  rock  of  stupendous 
height.  After  narrating  the  difficulty  they  had  in  obtaining  leave 
from  the  Aga^  or  governor  of  the  town,  to  inspect  the  antiquities 
within  his  jurisdiction^  they  enter  the  gateway  of  the  Acropolis^  and 
come  upon  a  small  Greek  colony  of  about  three  hundred  persons, 
separated  altogether  from  the  rest  of  the  Turkish  inhabitants,  who, 
according  to  their  own  accounts,  had  occupied  their  present  posi- 
tion from  the  earliest  times.  They  intermarry  only  among  them- 
sdves,  and  have  no  connexion  vnth  any  other  Christians  from 
without,  though  included  within  the  diocese  of  the  Archbishop  of 
Pisidia.  Oiir  author  says,  there  was  something  so  primitive  in  their 
maimer  and  appearance  that  he  could  readily  believe  their  story, 
and  he  fancied  seeing  in  them  the  representatives  of  the  Antiodi 
Christians^  who  had  been  driven  from  that  city  by  the  earlier  per- 
secutions. The  Papas  was  a  venerable  old  man,  who  had  been  a 
widower  nearly  forty  years.  Their  church  was  an  ancient  structure, 
though  on  the  foundation  of  a  much  earlier  one.  Numerous  frag- 
ments and  mutilated  inscriptions  are  fixed  on  the  outer  walls. 
When  manuscripts  were  inquired  after,  the  Papa  gave  the  usual 
answer,  that  many  such  had  been  destroyed  not  long  ago  to  bind 
books.  ^'  These  Greek  Christians,"  continues  Mr.  Arundell,  ^'  knew 
nothing  of  their  own  language,  and  were  very  thankfiil  when  I 
offered  to  send  them  a  few  Testaments  in  Turkish,  and,  if  possible, 
some  elementary  books  for  the  purpose  of  establishing  a  schod." 
The  inscriptions  found  at  this  place  completely  established  that  it 
was  the  site  of  ancient  ApoUonia. 

The  discovery  of  this  ancient  town  at  once  assured  the  travellers 
ot  the  greater  object  of  their  journey,  that  of  Antioch  of  Pisidia  ; 
the  distance  between  the  two  being  forty-five  miles.  They  arrive 
at  Yalabatz.  Here  the  quantity  of  immense  squared  blocks  of 
stone  and  sculptured  fragments,  which  they  saw  would  of  them- 
selves have  convinced  the  traveUers  that  they  were  on  the  site  of 
a  great  city,  independent  of  the  aqueduct  wnich  they  discovered. 
Leaving  Yalobatz,  and  going  on  the  north  side  of  it,  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  aqueduct^  they  gained  an  elevated  plateau,  accuratlely 
described  by  Strabo. 

"  Ijcaving  the  town,  and  going  on  the  north  side  of  it,  in  the  dixectioii 
of  the  aqueduct,  we  were  soon  upon  an  elevated  plateau,  accurately 
described  by  Strabo,  by  the  name  of  ^^oc  The  quantity  of  ancient 
pottery,  independently  of  the  ruins,  told  ns  at  once  that  we  were  upon  the 
emplacement  of  the  city  of  Antioch.  The  Superb  members  of  a  temple, 
which  from  the  thyrsus  on  many  of  them  evidently  belonged  to  Bacchus, 
was  the  first  thing  we  saw.  Passing  on,  a  long  and  immense  building, 
constructed  with  prodigious  stones,  and  standing  east  and  west,  made  me 


antateui  a  iiope  tkai  it  aught  be  a  chuick-^^  chuveh  of  Antioch  (  It  was 
a^;  the  gtound  plan,  with  the  circular  end  for  the  bema  all  xemaiDing' ! 
Willmgfy  would  I  have  remained  hours  in  the  midst  of  a  tem})le— perha|)6 
oae  of  the  very  earliest  consecrated  to  the  Saviour ;  but  wc  were  obliged 
to  hasten  on. 

"  The  next  thing  that  attracted  our  notice,  were  two  large  magnificent 
aEefaes»  a  aouterrain  running  fieur  beneath  tbe  hill,  and  supporting  ^e  plat- 
iorm  of  a  superb  tenq)le.  A  high  wall  of  immense  stones,  without  cement, 
iiext  ofsenxred,  part  probaMy  of  the  gate  of  the  city^  and  near  it  the  ground 
plan  of  anotker  building. 

*•  Fwom  henoe  ran  a  wall,  at  least  its  ruins,  along  towards  the  aqueduct, 
ovwning  lite  brow  of  the  hill,  and  abruptly  terminating  where  the  hill 
liecame  so  pred^Mtous  as  to  require  no  defence.  The  remains  of  the  aque- 
dnd,  of  whioh  twenty-one  ajnshes  are  perfect*  are  the  most  splendid  I  ever 
beheld ;  the  stones,  without  •oement,  of  the  same  niassy  dimensions  as  in 
the  wall. 

^  "  The  view,  when  near  the  aqueduct,  was  enchanting,  and  well  entitled 
Antioch  to  its  nui&  of  capital  of  the  province  of  Pisidia.  In  the  valley  on 
Ae  left,  groves  of  pophrs  and  weeping  willows  seemed  to  sing  the  song  of 
Ab  psalmost,  '  We  hanged  our  harps  upon  the  willows,'  &c.  mourning,  as 
aft  Babylon,  for  the  mekncholy  fate  of  this  once  great  Christian  city.  Not 
A  Christian  now  resides  in  it,  except  a  sin^e  (ireek  in  the  khan.  Net  a 
«lnreh  mor  any  friest  to  officiate,  where  Paul  and  Bami^Mts,  and  their  sue- 
eeaseiBy  ^onvtrted  the  tilousands  of  idolaters  to  the  true  faith  !"-^pp.  268 
070* 

Where  the  Synagogue  once  stood,  and  the  mansions  that  hospi- 
4Ably  received  the  aposdes,  and  those  of  their  persecntore,  who 
drove  them  from  the  city,  all  now  is  obliterated  and  levelled  to  tbe 
grmmd.  ,  A  lithographic  drawing  is  jndicioasly  here  introduced, 
which  gives  an  impressive  and  dear  idea  of  the  surrounding  coun- 
trv^  representing  the  rugged  Alpine  Peaks  of  Mount  TauruSj  covered 
with  snow,  in  me  distance.  Certain  ruins  were  examined^  which 
proved  themselves  to  be  those  of  the  temple  of  Bacchus.  Besides 
tbe  ThyxsiiSj  they  found  an  inacription  in  which  L.  Calpurnius  is 
Qiflad  ^'  High  Priest  for  life  of  the  most  glorious  god  Baochus :" — ^ 

■*  While  Mr.  Dethier  was  making  a  sketch,  Kyriacos  assisted  me  in  aaea- 
«unng  the  church  of  Antioch,  one  hundred  and  sixty  feet  long,  without 
tbe  portico,  and  eighty  feet  wide.  Perhaps  we  were  standing  on  tbe 
very  spot  where  Paul  made  his  admirable  sermon  ;  for  it  is  very  natural 
to  suppose  that  the  oldest  church  was  built  upon  the  site  of  the 
synagogue. 

To  the  north  of  the  church,  and  nearly  in  a  line  with  it,  are  the  arches 
of  a  grand  souterrain,  and  the  platform  of  a  very  large  temple  above 
them ;  but  nothing  more  than  the  groimd-plan  remains.  From  hence 
I  went  to  join  Mr.  Dethier,  while  Kyriacos,  who  had  not  as  much  anti- 
quarian mania  as  ourselves,  very  wisely  perched  himself  on  the  top  of  one 
of  the  arches,  patiently  awaiting  our  retui'n. 

"The  remains  of  a  theatre  lie  on  the  east  side  of  the  church,  on  a  little 
aseent.  The  seats  are  all  removed,  and^the  diameter  not  exceeding  one 
hundred  and  fifty  feet.  Beyond  the  theatre,  ascending  still  on  the  east, 
a  fittle  on  the  left,  are  vestages  of  another  church  of  small  size. 

VOL.  in.  (1S34.)  NO.  1  K 


50  Discoveries  in  Asia  Minor, 

**  Above  this  are  remains  of  walls  on  either  side,  as  if  the  continuation 

of  a  street,  terminated  at  the  distance  of  about  three  hundred  feet  by  the 

isolid  rock  being  cut  in  a  semicircular  form  and  perpendicularly,  with 

square  holes  all  round,   as  if  for  beams,   about   eight  feet  from   the 

ground. 

"  The  breadth  of  this  semicircular  area  was  about  one  hundred  and  sixty 
feet,  and  its  depth  probably  as  much.  But  within  the  circular  part  near  the 
head,  rises  an  oblong  inclosure,  hewn  also  out  of  the  solid  rock,  though 
the  numerous  fragments  of  fluted  columns  and  sculptured  stones  prov- 
ed that  some  building  once  stood  above  it,  which,  though  of  small  di- 
mensions, must  have  been  very  magnificent.  A  sort  of  well  or  reservoir 
occupied  the  centre  of  this  oblong  inclosure,  the  length  of  which  was 
about  twenty  feet.  Before  the  reservoir  part,  and  connected  with  it,  was 
a  square  platform  about  twenty-five  feet  long  and  twenty-five  wide.  Out- 
side the  reservoir,  the  rock  is  cut  all  round  with  steps.  In  front  of  the 
whole  is  a  level  space,  after  which  the  ground  falls,  and  some  founda- 
tions show  there  had  been  an  ascent  by  steps. 

'*  The  pillars  are  of  white  marble,  fluted,  and  three  feet  in  diameter — 
the  capitals  Corinthian.  On  what  appeared  fragments  of  the  frieze  were 
a  victory,^  and  the  caput  bo  vis  between  garlands — and  on  another  a  lion, 
and  a  winged  animal  having  a  bull's  head.  I  am  not  an  architect,  and 
it  would  be  presuming  to  decide  upon  the  nature  of  this  curious  place ; 
but  if  I  may  hazard  a  conjecture,  may  it  not  be  a  portico,  and  of  that 
kind,  which  from  its  semicircular  shape  was  called  Sigma,  because  re 
sembling  the  form  of  that  letter.  The  sculpture  was  spirited  and  in 
good  taste.  If,  instead  of  a  portico,  this  edifice  was  a  temple,  I  should 
take  it  to  be  the  temple  of  Lunus,  or  Men  Arcaeus,  whose  worship  was 
established  at  Antioch. 

''About  three  hundred  feet  to  the  south  of  this  portico  was  an  elevated 
spot  with  foundations,  perhaps  the  acropolis.  Excavations  were  going 
on  in  every  direction,  and  the  workmen  were  every  moment  uncovering 
columns  and  foundations.  It  is  therefore  extraordinary  that  so  much 
yet  exists  above  ground. 

*•  We  now  descended  by  a  cemetery  to  the  river,  where  we  were  told 
were  numerous  incriptions,  but  we  found  none,  though  the  wall  which 
bordered  the  river  all  the  way,  even  beyond  the  town,  was  composed 
almost  entirely  of  ancient  fragments,  and  square  blocks." — ^pp  272 — 275. 

We  have  been  endeavouring  to  give  a  favourable  specimen  and 
hasty  outline  of  Mr.  Arundell's  work,  and  we  shall  not  pause  here  to 
notice  the  trifling  and  unsuitably  placed  anecdotes,  and  would -be 
laughable  things^  that  are  sometimes  intermixed.  Our  desire  is  to 
keep  to  manly  and  serious  matter.  We  therefore  join  the  author  in 
declaring  how  delightful  it  is  to  suppose,  that  such  Arch-priests, 
as  many  of  the  inscriptions  found  mention,  may  have  been  of  the 
Gentiles,  who  besought  that  the  word  of  the  Lord  might  he 
preached  unto  them  ;  and,  hearing  it,  were  glad,  and  glorified  God  : 
and,  believing,  were  ordained  to  eternal  life  ! — 

"  Each  spot  trodden  by  an  apostle  must  be  regarded  by  Christians  with 
some  of  those  feelings  of  solemn  and  serious  delight,  which  they  cannot 
describe,  which  none  but  themselves  can  understand.    At  the  j^lace  where 


DUcoveries  in  Asia  Minor,  51 

a  martyr  died»  or  where  his  corpse  was  interred,  the  most  languid  believer 
may  be  expected  to  form  new  resolutions  of  devotedness  to  his  Divine 
Master,  and  consecrate  himself  to  new  fidelity,  in  following  those  who 
through  the  faith  of  suffering,  and  the  patience  of  martyrdom,  inherited  the 
premises" 

"  If  the  Syrian  Antioch  had  the  high  privilege  of  being  the  spot  where 
the  disciples  of  Jesus  were  first  denominated  by  the  name  of  their  Master, 
Antioch  of  Pisidia  stands  almost  as  prominently  distinguished,  as  the 
place  where,  the  Jews  having  rejected  the  offer  of  salvation,  the  glad  tidings 
and  privileges  of  the  gospel  were  offered  to  the  Gentile  world, — I  may  say 
first  offered,  for  though  the  family  of  ComeHus,  and  the  proconsul  of 
Cyprus,  are  instances  of  Gentile  conversions,  previous  to  the  arrival  of 
Paul  and  Barnabas  at  Antioch,  yet  we  read  of  no  other  place  in  which  the 
gospel  is  offered  to  the  acceptance  of  the  Gentiles  after  its  rejection  by 
the  Jews."— pp.  294—296. 

The  evidence  adduced  by  Mr.  Arundell  of  the  identity  of  the 
ancient  city  he  has  been  describing  with  Antioch  of  Pisidia  is 
ample  and  quite  satisfactory.  His  purpose^  on  setting  out  on  this 
exploring  tour,  was  to  proceed  in  search  of  Lystra  and  Derbe ;  but 
the  advanced  period  of  the  year^  and  the  Egyptian  army  in  the 
neighbourhood,  under  Ibraham  Pasha,  together  with  the  passing 
of  troops  all  over  the  country,  made  the  travellers  determine  on 
returning,  but  not  hy  the  same  route  they  advanced.  Accordingly, 
aft^r  coasting  nearly  three  sides  of  the  lake  of  Eyendir,  and  going 
by  Isbarta  to  Sagalassus,  they « came  back  by  Bourdour,  ^'and 
thence  by  a  route,  in  great  part  new,  to  the  back  of  Chonas."  We 
have  not  found,  however,  the  return  so  interesting  as  the  advance  ; 
and  therefore  will,  after  submitting  a  few  extracts  to  our  readers, 
dismiss  the  work.  Take  the  following  solution  of  a  passage  in  the 
New  Testament : — 

"  Ab  we  were  ascending  the  hill,  I  saw  something  shining  on  the  road, 
which  int)ved  to  be  one  of  the  needles  used  by  the  camel-drivers  for 
mending  their  camel  furniture.  It  was  about  six  inches  long,  and  had  a 
large,  very  long  eye';  it  had  evidently  been  dropped  by  one  of  the  con- 
ductors of  a  caravan  which  was  some  Uttle  way  a-head  of  us,  and  of  which 
the  sound  of  the  camel  bells,  as  it  was  occasionally  brought  to  us  by  the 
wind,  was  so  agreeable,  that  I  was  not  surprised  Mr.  Lovell  should  call 
the  camels  lovers  of  music. 

'*  This  association  of  the  needle  with  the  camels  at  once  reminded  me 
of  the  passage  which  has  been  considered  so  difficult  to  be  illustrated. 
'  It  is  easier  for  a  camel  to  pass  through  the  eye  of  a  needle,  than  for  a 
rich  man  to  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God.' 

'*  Why  should  it  not  be  taken  literally  ?  As  the  usages  of  the  east  are 
as  unvarying  as  the  laws  of  the  Medes  and  Persians,  I  can  easily  imagine 
that  even  the  camel  driver  of  Rachel  carried  his  needles  about  with  him  to 
mend  '  the  furniture  ;'  and  the  equipment  of  a  camel  driverin  those  days 
could  not  well  have  been  more  sitople  than  at  present ;  comprising  simpiy 
his  long  benish  or  cloak  of  white  felt  or  coarse  cloth,  the  shield  against 
San  and  cold  by  day,  and  his  bed  by  night ;  a  tinned  casatij  or  crock,  for 
his  pillau,  and  all  iixe  other  uses  of  the  cuisine ;  a  wooden  bowl  to  prepare 

e3 


53  Discoveries  in  Ana  Minor. 

the  baiiey  or  dari  balb  for  liia  camek,  and  bis  needles  and  cordage.     Hi* 
ihort  pipe  and  tobacco-bag  are  luxuries  of  modem  days. 

**  llie  needle,  from  its  constant  and  daily  use,  must  baire  held  a  pro* 
minent  place  in  his  structure  of  ideas  and  imagery ;  and  as  we  know  how 
fertile  the  imaginations  of  these  camel-drivers  were  in  furnishing  us  with 
proverbs  and  legendary  tales,  for  Mahomet  is  said  to  have  heard  the  story 
of  the  seven  sleepers  of  Ephesus  from  a  fellow  camel-driver,  why  may  not 
the  impracticability  of  a  camel's  passing  through  the  eye  of  his  needle,  even 
a  common  camel,  much  more  the  double  hunched  gentleman  of  Bactria, 
have  been  a  common  expression  to  denote  an  impossibility  ?"-*^p.  Ii0 
—121. 

The  author^  when  speaking  of  establishing  a  school  at  Ephesus^ 
says  truly^  that  volumes  have  been  written  on  the  question^  whether 
Dr.  Bell  or  Mr.  Lancaster^  is  to  have  the  honour  of  the  invention 
of  the  system  of  mutuel  enseignement.  It  is,  he  continues,  not  ge- 
nerally known^  if  known  at  afi,  that  this  system  was  aotaally  in 
use  at  the  great  seat  of  ancient  leamincf,  Athens^  one  hundred 
and  fifty  vears  ago,  as  may  be  seen  by  referring  to  a  small  volume^ 
in  French,  called  ^^  Ath^nes  Ancienne  et  M odeme.'*  The  author  is 
the  Sieur  de  la  Guilletidre,  and  the  work  was  pubhshed  in  1675. 
The  following  is  the  account  of  the  school  systan  which  he 
gives : — 

*'  Our  janissary  proposed  to  us  to  go  and  see  a  Greek  of  his  acquunt- 
ance,  who  was  a  didascolos,  or  schoolmaster.  We  desired  no  better, 
and  were  upon  thorns  till  we  were  with  him ;  but  alas !  how  were  we 
disappointed,  {who  expected  nothing  but  the  sublime  notions  of  Plato, 
Zeno,  and  Aristotle,)  when  the  janissary  told  us  he  was  a  meokamc — ^bow 
'  were  we  surprise  to  consider  a  man  of  that  quality  should  fuoceed  to  ^e 
place  of  sui^  excellent  persons.  We  found  about  thirty  young  lads  sit* 
ting  upon  benches,  and  their  master  at  the  head  of  them.  He  rose  up 
when  we  came  in,  and  received  us  very  civilly^  in  which,  to  give  them  their 
due,  that  nation  is  not  sparing. 

*'  The  janissary  desired  hm  to  go  on  widi  his  boys,  and  give  us  the 
liberty  of  seeing  his  method,  which  was  pretty,  and  much  beyond  ours  ; 
the  master  causing  the  whole  classis  to  read  at  a  time  witiiout  confusion, 
every  scholar  being  obliged  to  attention,  and  to  mind  what  his  next  neigh- 
bour reads.  They  had  each  of  them  the  same  authors  in  their  hand ;  and, 
for  example,  if  he  had  thirty  scholars,  he  chose  out  some  continued  dis- 
course, and  gave  them  but  thirty  words  to  read  ;  the  first  boy  reading  the 
first  word,  the  second  boy  the  second  word,  and  so  on. 

"  If  they  read  soundly  and  right,  he  gave  them  thirty  words  more  ;  but 
if  any  of  the  bo3r8  were  at  an  imperfect,  he  was  corrected  by  the  next,  who 
was  always  very  exact  in  observing  him,  and  he  his  ijeighbour,  till  the 
whole  number  of  words  were  read :  so  that  the  thirty  scholars  lying  all  of 
them  at  catch,  and  ready  to  take  advantage  of  any  defect  In  their  neigh- 
bour, stimulated  by  an  ambition  of  being  thought  the  best  scholar,  every 
one's  lesson  was  the  lesson  of  all,  and  happy  was  he  that  could  say  it  the 
best. 

"  To  obviate  any  of  the  scholars  in  eluding  that  word  by  preparing  him- 
self for  any  singly  word,  "their  places  were  changed,  and  he  who  at  one 
reading  was  in  the  first  place  was  removed  a  good  diMance  in  tiie  next. 


On  the  Utury  Lmmt.  59 

Tims  ooB  IcMOB  WM  oaough  for  a  whok  form,  how  numerous  soever ;  and, 
wkftt  wae  very  coiiyement  for  the  master,  tke  boys  were  not  comlmned 
to  come  to  him  one  alter  another^  for  every  one  was  a  master  to  his 
neighbour. — Aecamt  of  a  late  Voyage  ta  Athens,  engltshed  m  the  year 
1676.''— pp.  263,  264. 

.  How  difficult  it  is  to  be  original:  that  which  is^  has  been  before^ 
ftod  there  is  nothing  new  but  steam  under  the  sun ;  steam-boats 
and  opaches  we  mean. 

At  the  dose  of  our  abridgment  of  eome  parts  of  Mr.  Arundell's 
journey  into  Lesser  Asia,  and  of  our  observations  upon  the  manner 
m  which  it  has  been  published  in  these  volumes^  we  cannot  do  jus- 
tice  to  ourselves  without  repeating^  that  the  discoveries  he  has 
made  are  not  equal  to  what  the  pretensions  of  such  a  book  would 
lead  one  to  expect.  Far  be  it  from  us  to  detract  from  the  value 
and  the  interest  belonging  to  the  chief  merit  of  his  exertions — the 
discovery  of  Antioch  in  ^isidia ;  but  had  he  inserted  much  fewer 
of  his  conjectures,  and  more  rarely  drawn  upon  his  former  travels 
pablishod  years  ago,  one  slender  volume  might  have  really  con- 
tained all  that  is  valuable  or  new  in  these  goodly  octavos.  There 
ia  frequent  repetitions  too  of  the  exact  same  sentiments  respecting 
the  lacjoors  of  the  Apostles ;  together  with  a  considerable  quantity 
of  solemn  idling. 

Abt.  V. — RepcTt  of  the  Committee  of  the  House  of  Commons^  on  the 

Usury  Laws,    Printed  by  order,  1833. 

We  entertain  no  doubt,  that  if  the  Bill  for  abolishing  Imprisonment 
for  Debt  should  pass  into  a  law — although,  from  its  being  uncon- 
nected with  the  party  controversies  of  the  day,  it  may  excite  less 
attention  than  some  other  Parliamentary  proceedings— it  will 
really  exercise  a  more  beneficial  influence  upon  the  well-being  of 
the  great  body  of  the  people,  than  any  legislative  measure  sii^ee 
the  adoption  of  the  Reform  Bill.  Although  many  plausible  con- 
siderations may  be  urged  in  iavour  of  the  old  system,  it  is  in  fact 
sustained  by  the  mere  force  of  habit:  and  this  is  also  the  only  real 
support  of  the  Usury  Laws,  the  injurious  operation  of  which  is 
chiefly  felt  by  the  middling  and  poorer  classes  of  the  community. 
We  indulge  a  confident  hope,  that  a  temperate  bat  vigorous  and 
persevering  course  of  exertion  on  the  part  of  the  intelligent  firiends 
of  improvement  will  meet,  we  are  certain,  in  due  timev  with  the 
same  success  in  regard  to  this  abuse,  whidi  will  attend  Ibeir  eftbrts 
ia  the  removal  of  the  other.  We  are  no  friends  of  indiserimi&ate, 
wanton  and  violent  changes  in  the  laws :— we  are  free  ta  say,  on 
the  contrary,  that  we  consider  an  existing,  and  espeeidly  a  long- 
established  s^tem,  as  preferable,  eeeteris  paribus,  to  Hxij  one' thai 
can  be  substituted  for  it ;  but  when  a  law  is  notoriously  and  almost 
ocmfessedly  absurd,  cruel  and  uselest, — ^when  nothing  can  be  urged 
in  lavOHT  of  it  bat  its  anfiquity,-^we  shaB  always  be  ready  to  con- 


54  On  the  Usury  Laws, 

cur»  ad  fieur  as  Our  inflaence  may  extend,  in  removing  it  from  the 
statute  book.  Such  is  substantially  the  case  with  the  existing  laws 
prohibiting  usury,  or,  in  other  words,  prohibiting  the  owner  of 
capital,  invested  in  money,  from  making  the  same  use  of  it  which 
he  is.  allowed  to  do  when  invested  in  lands,  houses,  or  any 
other  article.  We  shall  now  proceed  to  lay  before  our  readers  a 
rapid  historical  sketch  of  the  usages  on  this  subject,  in  some  of  the 
most  distinguished  countries  of  ancient  and  modem  times,  and 
shall  then  briefly  examine  the  actual  operation  of  the  laws  now 
existing  in  this  country. 

I.  Amongst  ancient  nations,  the  Jews  are  the  first  to  claim  our 
attention.  Until  their  departure  from  the  land  of  Egypt,  under 
Moses,  they  had  never  acted  as  a  nation; — although  for  several 
hundred  years  they  had  preserved  themselves  as  an  unmixed  race  in 
their  state  of  bondage.  Long  before  this  time,  money  had  been 
used  as  an  agent  of  commerce ;  and  the  letting  of  money  to  hire 
was  a  perfectly  familiar  thing.  Of  course,  we  should  expect  to  find 
mention  made  of  this  practice  in  the  Mosaic  law.  Nor,  on  inspeo* 
tion,  are  we  disappointed.  The  practice  of  taking  interest  for  the 
loan  of  money,  or  any  other  commodity,  is  mentioned  in  the  books 
of  Exodus  and  Leviticus,  wherein  is  recorded  the  revelation  to 
Moses;  and  also  in  the  book  of  Deuteronomy,  in  which  are 
written  the  same  commandments,  as  Moses  communicated  to  the 
people.  The  passage  in  Exodus  (xxii.  25)  is  in  these  words : — 
'^  If  thou  lend  money  to  any  of  my  people  that  is  poor  by  thee,  thou 
shalt  not  be  to  him  as  an  usurer,  neither  shalt  thou  lay  upon  him 


usurv." 


The  passage  in  Leviticus  (xxv.  35-37)  is  as  follows  : — "  And  if 
thy  brother  be  waxen  poor,  and  Mien  in  decay  with  thee,  thou 
shalt  relieve  him,  though  he  may  be  a  stranger  or  sojourner ;  that 
he  may  live  with  thee.  Take  thou  no  usury  of  him,  or  increase : 
but  fear  thy  God;  that  thy  brother  may  live  with  thee.  Thou 
shalt  not  give  him  thy  money  upon  usury,  nor  lend  him  thy  victuals 
for  increase :  I  am  the  Lord  your  God." 

The  passage  in  Deuteronomy  (xxiii.  19-20)  is  in  these  words : — 
**Thou  shalt  not  lend  upon  usury  to  thy  brother;  usury  of  money, 
usury  of  victuals,  usury  of  any  thing  that  is  lent  upon  usury.  Unto 
a  stranger  thou  mayest  lend  upon  usury,  but  unto  thy  brother  thou 
shalt  not  lend  upon  usury,  that  the  Lord  thy  God  may  bless  thee." 

These  laws,  having  been  once  promulgated,  bound  the  Jews  to 
obedience  as  firmly  as  we  should  be  bound  by  a  commandment 
addressed  directly  to  us  by  the  Almighty.  It  is  apparent,  however^ 
that  they  did  not  condemn  the  practice  in  the  whole,  but  only  in 
part;  that  they  allowed  the  taking  of  interest,  but  forbade  the 
taking  it  by  one  Jew  of  another.  Accordingly,  that  singular  race 
never  hesitated  to  lend  or  hire  money  upon  interest  in  their  busi- 
ness transactions  with  foreign  nations. 
'We  wish  to  fix  the  attention  of  our  readers  particularly,  upon 


On  tie  Unary  Laws.  55 

the  distinction  made  by  this  law  between  interest  amongst  the  Jews> 
and  interest  between  them  and  other  nations ;  for  on  a  singular 
misinterpretation  of  the  Mosaic  rule  has  been  founded  the  most 
violent  and  long-continued  warfare^  by  religious  men,  against  all 
kinds  of  interest.  It  is  only  within  a  century  or  less  that  the 
question  has  not  been  argued  solely  as  a  question  of  religion. 

It  is  quite  dear,  that  the  intention  of  the  Mosaic  law  was,  not  to 
declare  the  practice  of  taking  interest  an  offence  against  the  prin- 
cifies  of  morality,  but  to  make  the  Jews  consider  each  other  as 
members  of  one  family — all  equally  entitled  to  the  use  and  enjoy- 
ment of  the  property  of  the  nation.  In  other  words,  the  law  was 
not  in  its  nature  moral,  but  political;  although,  when  it  was  once 
enacted,  its  violation  was  morally  wrong.  It  furnished  an  exempli- 
fication of  a  distinction  made  by  our  common  law  between  acts 
mala  in  se,  wrong  in  themselves,  or  morally  wrong,  and  mala  pro- 
hihitay  or  acts  wrong,  because  the  law  forbids  them.  Had  the 
taking  of  interest  been  declared  to  be  in  itself  an  immoral  act,  the 
prohibition  laid  upon  the  Jews  would  extend  to  all  mankind ;  but 
otherwise  it  cannot  be  considered  of  universal  obligation,  any  more 
than  is  the  Jewish  celebration  of  the  Passover.  Neglecting  this 
distinction,  and  disregarding  the  fact  that  the  taking  of  interest  is 
not  censured  except  between  Jew  and  Jew,  the  ancient  Christian 
fathers  considered  the  practice  as  an  abomination  in  the  sight  of 
God.  It  was  not  only  condemned  in  their  writings,  but  denounced 
as  sinful  by  many  a  solemn  council  of  the  church.  The  canon  law, 
or  law  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Hierarchy,  repeated  the  sentence  of 
condemnation,  and  went  so  far  as  to  declare  those  heretics  who  by 
argument  defended  it.  We  know  not  whether  any  person  was  ever 
led  to  the  stake  for  taking  interest  or  for  defending  the  practice ; 
but  we  think  such  a  thing  very  probable :  for  we  find  the  learned 
Doctor  Wilson  recommending  the  punishment  of  this  ofience  by 
death  in  the  following  terms : — ^^  For  my  part,  I  will  wish  some 
penail  lawe  of  death  to  be  made 'against  those  usurers,  as  well  as 
against  theeves  or  murtherers,  for  that  they  deserve  death  much 
vanse  than  such  men  doe ;  for  these  usurers  destroye  and  devour  up 
not  onlie  whole  families,  but  also  whole  countries,  and  bring  all 
foike  to  beggary  that  have  to  doe  with  them."  History  tells  us» 
ako,  that  tl^  inquisitors  were  very  industrious  in  enforcing  the 
canon« 

We  shall  again,  and  more  particularly,  examine  the  value  of  this 
doctrine  of  the  church.    At  present  we  confine  ourselves  to  history* 

From  Judea  let  us  pass  over  to  Greece.  It  is  a  glorious  monu-* 
ment  of  the  enlightened  and  commercial  character  of  that  country 
that  she  had  no  laws  on  the  subject ;  that  her  trade  in  money,  hke 
the  trade  in  every  thing  else,  was  Idft  wholly  without  legal  restric- 
tion. (Boeek.  Kcon.  of  ^hen^,)  The  law  declared  (Potter  s 
Attliq.  c.  26)  that  a  banker  should  not  demand  or  recover  a  higher 
rate  than  that  fixed  by  the  original  contract  between  himself  and 


56  On  the  Unary  Laws, 

the  bofwwer.  it  also  contaioed  the  following  reasonable  enact*' 
mentr^^^  Let  the  interest  on  money  be  YRoderarte/'  But  farther  ' 
than  llkis^  it  never  interfered  with  the  private  rights  of  borrowers 
and  lenders.  One  per  cent,  a  month  was  the  most  common  rate  of 
interest ;  but  on  some  speeies  of  loans  a  premium  was  chaiged 
equal  to  sixty  per  cent,  a  year.  Thus  money  lent  on-  a  voyage  to 
the  Buxine  Sea,  which  generally  reqnked  six  months  text  its  com- 
pletion, was  charged  with  an  interest  of  thirty  per  cent. 

While  such  was  the  liberal  policy  of  the  state,  there  existed,  at 
varions  times,  individuals  who»were  as  violently  hostile  to  the  taking 
of  interest  as-  were  the  Popish  councils  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
Amongst  these  may  be  found  Aristotle — a  man  whose  name  is 
illustrious  in  the  departments  of  natural  and  moral  science ;  but 
whose  notions  on  politics  are  entitled  to  small  respect.  His  repn- 
tation  is  dimmed  by  his  enmity  to  commerce ;  and  his  works  are, 
we  i^ust  say,  disgraced  by  the  following  passage : — ^'  Of  all  modes 
of  accumulation,  the  worst  and  most  unnatural  is  interest.  This 
is  the  utmost  corruption  of  artificial  degeneracy,  standing  in  the 
same  relation  to  commerce  that  commerce  does  to  economy.  By 
commerce  money  is  perverted  from  the  purpose  of  exchange  to  that 
of  gain ;  still,  however,  this  gain  is  occasioned  by  the  mutual  trans* 
fer  of  different  objects;  but  interest,  by  trancdTerring  merely  the 
same  object,  from  one  hand  to  another,  generates  money  from 
money ;  and  the  product  thus  generated  is  therefore  called  offspring, 
as  being  of  precisely  the  same  nature  with  that  from  which  it 
proceeds." 

The  worthy  philosopher's  indignation  at  the  idea  of  ofispring 
being  produced  by  money  is  not  a  little  amusing.  He  had  studied 
aH  the  secrets  of  the  natural  world,  animate  and  inanimate ;  he  had 
been  abundantly  ftimished,  by  the  generosity  of  Alexander,  with 
gold  and  silver  coins  to  an  amount  not  less  than  £160,000 ;  he  had 
discovered,  to  a  certainty,  that  these  coins,  though  shut  np  toge- 
ther in  his  pocket  and  chest,  never  mukiplied,  nor  gave  any  signs 
of  fraitfulness ;  he .  had,  moreover,  found  out,  that  gold  and  silver 
would  not  vegetate  a  whit  more  than  they  would  generate',  end, 
on<  the  strength  of  this  valuable  knowledge,  he  denounced  interest 
as  unnaftural  and  abominable. 

This  absurd  reaswing  of  the  Stagyrite  was  adopted  by  the  k>gi- 
cians  of  after  times  as  sound  and  just ;  and  by  a  singular  fate, 
altfaou^  in  Greece  it  never  gamed  any  influence,  yet  in  many  other 
eountries,  and.  in  agea  long  subsequent  to  his>  it  had  set  its  stamp 
npon  morals  and  legislation. 

Tb&  same  objection  would  lie  against  taking  rent  for  houses^  ot 
hire  for  any  other  inanimate  article  of  use ;  for  neither  do  houses 
b«gst  hooaes,  nor  did  we  ever  hear  of  any  other  inanimate  article  of 
property  vegetating  or  multiplying. 

In  tli«  earliest  ages  of  Rome,  there  were  no  laws  on  the  subject 
of  letting  money ;  but  the  practice  was  perfectly  well  known  there,. 


(Mike  UnHT^  Lm99.  57 

and  finmed  OM  of  the  mm/t  Inqaimt  mbgooU  oipopoln  cmnpklnt. 
In  tibe  celebrated  secession  of  the  lower  classes  of  the  peofde  to  the 
MoseSaoer,  wh^a  fer  several  days  there  was  thronghoat  the  street 
of  the  Eternal  City  the  most  pi^^il  epq>ectatioii  of  impending  civil 
war  somI  firat^nal  bloodshed^  the  seditioas  multttade  complained  of 
nettling  mere  strongly  than  the  pressure  of  the  exorbitant  interest 
demanded  of  them  by  the  wealthy  oitiaeas,  of  whom  they  weror 
obliged  to  borrow. 

In  these  early  periods  the  eommon  rate  of  interest  seems  to  have 
bem  twelve  per  cent,  ^-^-or  one  per  cent,  a  month.  This  is  to  be 
inferred  from  tike  feet,  that  six  per  cent,  per  aonum  is  spokaii  of  by 
the  cid  writers  as  half  interest,  and  three  per  cent,  as  one  fourUt 
interest. 

Until  the  299th  year  after  the  boil^g  of  Rome,  i.  e.  about  454 
yean  before  Christ,  there  was  no  such  thing,  in  fact,  as  law,  pro* 
pevly  so  called.  The  edicts  of  the  Kings,  aided  sometimes  by  m 
win  of  the  Senate,  and  sometimes'  by  that  of  the  people,  and  made 
known  by  placards  pasted  np  at  the  comers  of  streets,  hardly  de- 
serve the  name  of  laws. 

In  that  year  measures  were  eomm^ced  that  ultimately  resoited  in 
the  collection  of  the  code  of  laws,  which  under  the  name  of  the  Twelve 
Tables,  is  celebrated  in  Roman  history.  They  contained  the  elements 
of  Roman  jurisprudence;  were  collected  from  the  laws  of  Greece  and 
other  foreign  countries;  and,  being  written  on  taUea  ef  brass, 
became  the  statutes  of  the  Republic. 

One  of  these  laws,  according  to  Tacitus,  fixed  the  rate  of -inter'* 

est  at  one  per  cent,  per  annum.     Some  modem  crities  doubt  the 

genoineness  of  the  law  quoted  by  Taeitus>  and  affirm  that  the  first 

hlw,  by  which  the  rate  of  interest  wa»  fixed  at  Rome,  was  passed 

bf  the  Tribunes,  nearly  a  hundred  years  later.     The  qnestiom  is 

ahimportant ;  fer  either  way  the  law  has  not  much  to  boast  of.    If 

it  be  found  in  the  Twelve  Tables*,  so  is  aaodicr  law,  granting  the 

oreditors  of  an  insolvent' debtee  the  power  of  cutting  hn  body  into 

pieces;  and  anothar,  giving  parents  the  power  of  kiUmg,  or  selling 

into  slavery  fJieir  children;  and  another,  commanding  the  &ther  to 

mnrder  his  child  at  its  birth,  if  diseased  and  deformed*.    If  on  the 

other  hand,  the  first  law  fixing  the  rate  of  interest  was  of  a  more 

reoeflt  dote,  it  was  passed  by  the  influence  of  certain  puUie  officers, 

(the  IVilMmes,)  whose  greatest  delight  was,  at  all  times,  to  oppose 

the  rq^ar  operations  ef  government,  and  stir  np  aeditioii  among 

the  people;  and  it  was  enacted  after  a  hmg  eo^ct  between  the 

hq^her  and  lower  classes  of  the  citizens,  ocmducted  by  such  fiiry^ 

that  not  even  the  popularity  of  the  great  Camillus,  by  whom  the 

Ganls  had  been  Aiven  from  tne  Roman  territory,  atmed,  as  he  was, 

with  dtctatoxial  authority,  and  sustained  by  undoabtad  justice,  was 

sufficient  to  stem  this  headlong  impulse. 

fi         ' '  '  '  i^  '  " '       '  .  '    ' ' 

•  Fragments  of  the.  Twelve  Tables,  as  collected  by  Fathers  Catron 

and  Roiulle. 


58  Oft  the  Usury  Loidm*  - 

The  early  records  of  Rome  are  marked  with  numerous  oonteste 
of  this  description,  and  by  the  constant  proofs  of  the  pc^ular  odium 
belonging  to  money-lenders*  Cato,  in  his  Treatise  on  Agriculture, 
informs  us  that  the  taking  of  iU^^  interest  was  an  offence  punished 
with  more  severity  than  theft; — ^the  usurer  forfeiting  fourfold^ — ^the 
thief  only  double, — ^the  amount  of  property  taken.  Next  in  order  after 
the  Twdve  Tables,  at  an  interval  of  eighty-five  years,  came  the 
Licinian  Law,  which  temporarily  forbade  all  interest.  Ten  years 
later  the  rate  was  fixed  at  ^per  cent.,  and  afterwards  again  abolish- 
ed. The  rate  of  interest  was  always  highest  at  Rome,  as  every- 
where else,  when  the  laws  on  the  subject  were  most  severe ;  because 
of  the  increased  risk,  the  diminishea  competition,  and  the  aversicm 
of  honourable  men  to  engage  in  any  illegal  trade. 

Under  the  dictatorship  of  Sylla,  towai^is  the  close  of  the  Repub- 
lic, the  law  fixed  the  rate  of  interest  at  3  per  cent. ;  but  we  are 
informed  that  12  was  the  customary  and  common  rate.  Cicero,  at 
a  still  later  period,  speaks  in  his  letters  of  money  hired  in  Rome 
at  34  per  cent.,  and  in  the  provinces  at  48.  This  was  a  period  of 
universal  confusion,  turmoil,  and  insecurity.  At  the  death  of  An- 
tony and  Cleopatra,  interest  is  said  to  have  fallen  to  4  per  cent. 
At  that  time  the  genius  of  Octavius  Caesar  had  gained  the  last 
grand  triumph  over  opposition,  and  the  world  lay  prostrate  at  his 
feet ;  peace  being  universally  welcomed  as  a  relief,  though  it  placed 
upon  the  neck  of  subject  nations  the  yoke  of  a  tyrant.  Horace^  in 
his  Satires,  speaks  of  a  person  who  lent  money  at  60  per  cent^ 
In  the  reign  of  Tiberius,  whom  the  retributive  pen  of  Tacitus  has 
delineated  for  immortal  detestation,  Rome  was  again  convulsed 
with  an  usury  sedition.  Tlie  celebrated  Pandectsand  Code  of  Jus- 
tinian finally  settled  the  law  on  this  subject.  By  their  provisions, 
in  the  language  of  Gibbon,  ^^  persons  of  illustrious  rank  were  con- 
fined to  the  moderate  profit  of  four  per  cent. :  six  was  pronounced 
to  be  the  ordinary  and  legal  standard  of  interest :  eight  was  allowed 
for  the  convenience  of  manufacturers  and  merchants :  twelve  was 
granted  to  nautical  insurance,  which  the  wiser  ancients  had  not  at- 
tempted to  define ;  but,  except  in  this  perilous  adventure,  exorbi- 
tant mterest  was  severely  restrained." 

Rome,  in  her  turn,  Uke  all  preceding  empires,  declined  and  fell ; 
and  upon  the  various  hordes  of  northern  barbarians,  by  whom  she 
was  over-run,  her  civilization  and  laws  for  many  centuries  exerted 
but  a  feeble  influence.  We  will  not  attempt  to  trace  through  the 
darkness  of  those  centuries  the  course  of  custom  and  l^islation 
respecting  the  loan  of  money,  but  will  pass  immediately  to  our  own 
country. 

In  the  earliest  periods  of  which  we  have  authentic  records,  we 
find  that  the  doctrine  of  the  sinfulness  of  letting  money  to  hire,  had 
been  universally  spread  over  the  island  of  Great  Britain.  It  was 
the  prevaihng  sentiment^  that  interest,  or,  as  it  was  then  called. 


On  the  Usury  Laws.  fid 

tt9ary»  was  an  unholy  gain^  such  as  no  good  Christian  could  ooii-< 
scientiously  receive. 

Hence  the  common  law,  or^  in  other  words,  universal  consent, 
placed  the  practice  of  taking  interest  amongst  those  crimes  against 
public  morals  and  convenience,  the  catalogue  of  which  it  woidd  be 
difficult  to  complete.  Whether  it  was  prohibited  amongst  Jewish 
residents  only,  or  the  whole  body  of  Uie  people,  is  a  vexed  question 
with  lawyers.  It  is  however  certain  that  the  prohibition  existed, 
and  that  its  operation  was  such  that  the  practice  of  lending  money 
on  interest  was  confined  almost  wholly  to  the  Jews,  who  had  in 
England,  and  in  nearly  every  other  European  country,  become  the 
leaders  of  commerce,  and  the  chief  bankers.  Money  lenders  have 
always  been  unpopular,  even  under  the  most  favourable  circum* 
stances,  and  in  the  most  enlightened  and  civilized  ages.  Of  course, 
ther^re,  the  Jews  in  England  were  most  cordially  hated,  and, 
both  on  account  of  their  religion  and  their  money,  subject  to  fiery 
persecutions. 

The  laws  of  King  Alfred,  about  A.D.  900,  ordained  that  the 
po^onal  effects  of  money  lenders  should  be  forfeited  to  the  king, 
their  lands  and  inheritances  to  the  lord  under  whom  they  were  held, 
and  that  they  should  not  be  buried  in  consecrated  ground. 

By  the  laws  of  Edward  the  Confessor,  passed  about  the  year  of 
our  Lord  1050,  the  money  lender  forfeited  all  his  substance,  and 
was  outlawed.  Sir  Robert  Filmer,  in  a  treatise  published  in  1678, 
erroneously  states,  that,  with  the  exception  of  a  clause  in  the  Coun* 
dl  of  Calcluith,  about  the  year  787,  interest  had  not  been  prohi- 
bited in  England  until  the  reign  of  Edward  the  Confessor,  A.D. 
1045;  and  that  this  monarch,  having  been  educated  in  France, 
and  been  ''seasoned  with  the  principles  of  the  kingdom,"  banished 
money  lenders  from  England.  Alfred's  laws  was  of  course  earher 
than  Edward's. 

Charlemagne,  king  of  France,  had  in  the  8th  century  prohibited 
the  taking  of  interest,  not  only  by  the  clergy,  according  to  the 
seventeenth  canon  of  the  Coun(»t>(^  Nice,  but  by  the  laity ;  which 
prohibition  was  thenceforward  supported  by  the  whole  ecclesiastical 
power. 

Notwithstanding  that  such  were  the  doctrines  of  the  continental 
ekcrgy^  and  although  the  laws  of  Edward  partook  of  their  spirit,  we 
find  the  English  clergy  less  hberaL  At  a  council  held  in  the  year 
1 126  at  Westminster,  and  at  another  twelve  years  later,  the  clergy 
akme  were,  by  the  decree  of  council,  prohibited  from  the  taking  of 
money ;  degradation  being  the  penalty  of  the  offence. 

In  the  reign  of  the  second  Henry,  from  A.D.  1154  to  1189,  the 
estfttea  of  money  lenders  on  their  death  were  forfeited^  and  their 
heirs  disinheritea. 

At  the  death  of  this  king,  and  on  the  accession  of  his  son  Richard 
I.,  A.D.  1189,  as  we  are  told  by  the  historian  of  England,*  "  the 

♦  Hume,  Chap.  x. 


m  Ot^  the  U$my  Lttm. 

pn^diocs  of  tfa«  age  had  madb  the  lending  ci  money  on  interest 
pass  by  the  invidious  name  of  usury;  yet  the  necessity  of  the  prac- 
tice had  still  c(»tinued  it^  and  the  greater  part  of  that  kind  of  deal- 
ing fell  every  where  into  the  hands  of  the  Jews^  who,  being  ahready 
infamous  on  account  of  their  religion,  and  no  honour  to  losd,  ana 
were  apt  to  exercke  a  profession^  odious  in  itself^  by  every  kind  of 
figor,  and  even  somiStimes  by  rapine  and  extortion.  The  industry 
and  frugality  of  this  people  had  put  them  in  possession  of  all  the 
leady  money,  which  the  idleness  and  profusion,  common  to  the 
Engush  with  other  Emropean  naticms,  enabled  them  to  lend  at  ei|- 
orbitant  and  unequal  interest/'  The  old  historians  of  England, 
who  wer»  mostly  monks,  had  censured  Henry  for  his  wise  and 
equitable  protection  of  the  Jews  :  of  course,  they  exult  in  the  cro- 
elties  inflicted  upon  them  by  Richard.  ''The  king  had  issued  an 
ediet,.  forbidding  their  appearance  at  his  coronation ;  but  some  of 
them  bringing  large  presents  from  their  nation,  presumed,  in  confi- 
dence of  tjiat  merit,  to  approach  the  hall  in  which  he  dined.**  Being 
discovared  and  driven-  wiui  insult  from  the  palace,  they  fled.  The 
peojde  pursued  them,  and  a  rumour  being  circulated  that  the  king 
had  given  orders  that  all  the  Jews  should  be  slain,  such  of  them  as 
appeared  in  public  were  slaughtered,  while  the  houses  of  those  who 
remained  at  home  were  broken  open,  plundered,  and  their  inmates 
murdered,  or  else  they  were  set  on  fire  and  made  the  funeral  piles 
of  men  and  women  and  children,  without  any  emotion,  on  the  part 
of  the  mob,  of  remorse  or  mercy. 

*  ''  The  disorder  was  not  confined  to  London.  Other  cities  fol- 
Ibwed  the  bloody  example.  In  York,  five  hundred  Jews,  who  had 
retired  for  safety  to  the  castle,  and  found  themselves  unable  to 
defend  the  place,  murdered  their  own  wives  and  children,  threw  the 
dead  bodies  over  the  waUs  upon  the  populace,  and  then,  setting  fire 
to  the  houses,  perished  in  the  flames. 

**  The  neighbouring  gentry,  who  were  all  indebted  to  the  Jews, 
ran  to  the  cathedral,  where  their  bonds  were  kept,  and  made  a 
solemn  bonfire  of  the  papers  before  the  altar.  A  contemporary 
outiior,  after  rdating  these  horrible  events,  blesses  the  Almighty  for 
thus  delivering  over  this  impious  race  to  destruction. '' 

Under  this  same  king  Richard,  a  law  was  enacted,  which  re- 
quired that  every  contract  with  a  Jew  should  be  made  in  writing, 
one  copy  of  which  was  to  remain  with  the  Jew,  one  with  a  magis- 
tMte,  and  a  third  with  some  good  citizen.  At  this  time  nKMtiey 
was  sometimes  procured  at  10  per  cent.,  but  generally  the  rate  was 
much  higher.  The  common  rate  in  Italy  and  other  countries  about 
this  time  was  20  per  cent.  The  Countess  of  Flanders,  for  the 
money  raised  to  pay  her  husband's  ransom,  was  obliged  to  pay 
enormous  interest.  The  lowest  rate  was  more  than  20  per  cent.^ 
and  some  of  her  creditors  exacted  30.^^ Robertson* s  Charles  V,, 
Vol.  3,  Note  XXX.)  James  1st  of  Arragon  (1242^  fixed  the  rate 
inthat  kingdom  at  18  per  cent,<-**(i6.) 


On  the  Usury  Law».  ^l 

A  curious  document  is  piesented  in  M^oa^s  Forwrndate  AngU- 
eanum,  bearing  date  the  tenth  and  last  year  of  the  reign  of  Riehard, 
in  the  nature  of  a  mortgage  of  land  for  the  security  of  a  loan  at  1^ 
per  cent,  interest.  Its  urords  are^  ''  for  which  I^  Richard  of  Sand- 
ford^  will  pay  to  him^  the  said  Boiedict  Pemaz^  interest  at  the  ratte 
of  10  marlcs  per  annum  for  the  aforesaid  hundred  marks/' 

Under  the  succeeding  reigns  of  John  and  Henry  III.,  wfaiefa 
ext^ided  to  A.D.  1272,  althourii  the  Jews  were  violently  persecttted, 
they  still  remained  in  England,  and  still  acted  as  money  lenders. 
The  rate  of  interest  rose  to' an  enormous  height  both  in  F^Mioe  and 
England.  Instances  occnr  in  which  50  per  cent,  was  paid ;  and 
there  is  an  edict  of  Philip  Augustus,  the  French  king,  limiting 
interest  to  48  per  cent. 

The  Jews,  during  this  period,  were  subject  to  lihe  most  ruinoDS 
and  despotic  extortion  by  government ;  to  ensure  themselves  against 
wluch,  they  were,  of  course,  obliged  to  raise  their  rate  of  int^est 
atin  higher.  King  John,  whose  graming  disposition  and  prodigal 
habits  are  so  finely  delineated  in  Sir  Walter  Scott's  Ivanhoe,  on  one 
occasion  demandea  of  a  single  Jew  in  Bristol  the  sum  of  10,000 
marks^  which  was  more  than  equal  to  a  sixth  part  of  the  revenue  of 
all  England,  When  the  Jew  refosed  to  pay  that  sum,  John  ordered 
one  of  his  teeth  to  be  drawn  daily,  until  he  should  comply.  Hie 
Jew  endured  the  tearing  out  of  seven,  and  then  paid  the  unjust 
demand.  Henry  was  equaUy  unjust  and  unmerciful,  adopting  the 
most  outrageous  measures  to  fill  his  purse  from  the  pockets  of  the 
Jews,  and,  when  his  ingenuity  fiuled,  he  turned  them  over  to  his 
brother,  the  Earl  of  Cornwall;  in  the  language  of  an  ancient 
author,  ^'  that  those  whom  one  brother  had  flayed,  the  other  might 
embowel." 

In  the  year  1311,  Philip  IV.  of  France  fixed  the  rate  of  interest, 
allowed  to  be  taken  in  the  fiurs  of  Champagne,  at  20  per  cent. — 
{Ordon.  I.,  484.)    In  Arragon  it  was  somewhat  lower. 

In  this  same  year  (1311)  a  council,  held  at  Vienna,  renewed  the 
anathemas  of  the  Church  upon  the  practice  of  taking  interest,  and 
passed  that  fiirious  canon  to  which  we  have  before  alluded,  that,  ^  if 
any  shall  obstinately  persist  in  the  error  of  presuming  to  affirm  that 
the  taking  of  interefit  is  not  sin,  we  decree  that  he  shall  be  punished 
as  a  heretic." 

The  taking  of  interest  was  an  indictable  ofience  under  the  reigns 
of  the  three  Edwards,  who  succeeded  Henry,  and  who  held  the 
crown  of  England  from  the  year  1272  to  the  year  1377.  But  it 
seems  that  the  common  law  courts  were  not  then  considered  the 
proper  tribunals  in  which  to  punish  this  offence.  The  ecclesiasticfd 
courts,  claiming  jurisdiction  of  the  crime  as  an  offence  against  the 
Churchy  were  deemed  the  proper  judges.  In  compliance  wi^  the 
urgeiLt  request  of  the  clergy,  Eldward  III.  sanctioned  a  statute 
making  the  practice  penal.  But  he  had  in  a  ntfanner  been  fereed 
joato  this  meaanrei  and  speedily  pcociived  its  repeal.    This  »talute 


\ 


62  On  the  Usury  Laws. 

betrays  a  very  singular  ignorance  of  the  real  character  and  influence 
of  the  practice  of  loaning  upon  interest;  for  it  declares  it  to  be  *'  the 
bane  of  commerce.^* 

The  burden  of  the  law  did  not  now,  however,  fall  most  heavily 
upon  the  Jews.  They  had  been  driven  from  England  by  the 
tyranny  of  Edward  I.  in  the  early  part  of  his  reign  ;  15,000  of 
them  being  at  one  time  robbed  of  their  whole  property,  and  banished. 
After  that  period,  the  lending  of  money  passed  into  other  hands, 
and  the  rate  of  interest  rose  in  consequence. 

During  this  period,  about  the  year  1360,  King  John  of  France, 
by  his  letters  patent,  permitted  the  Jews  within  his  realm  to  take 
at  least  86  per  cent,  per  annum  *on  loans.  But,  as  a  specimen  of 
royal  honesty  at  that  time,  we  may  mention  that  in  the  following 
year  he  debased  the  coin,  and  obliged  the  lenders  to  receive  it  as  of 
full  value. 

From  a  consideration  of  these  facts,  we  may  see  the  justice  of  a 
remark  made  by  the  celebrated  Bentham,  in  his  '^Defence  of 
Usury :" — "  Christians  were  too  intent  upon  plaguing  Jews  to 
listen  to  the  suegestions  of  doing  as  Jews  did,  even  though  money 
were  to  be  got  by  it.  Indeed,  the  easier  method,  and  a  method 
pretty  much  in  vogue,  was,  to  let  the  Jews  get  the  money  any  how 
they  could,  and  then  squeeze  it  out  of  them  as  it  was  wanted." 

Early  in  the  reign  of  Henry  VII.,  which  began  in  the  year  1485, 
a  very  severe  statute  was  enacted,  for  the  purpose  of  suppressing 
the  taking  of  interest.  The  penalty  of  the  offence  was  fixed  ut  one 
hundred  pounds,  besides  which  the  Church  was  empowered  to  deal 
according  to  its  will  with  the  soul  of  the  money  lender.  The  same 
statute  subjects  him  to  a  forfeiture  of  the  principal,  and  disables  the 
brokers  from  further  business  in  their  profession,  besides  subjecting 
them  to  a  penalty  of  £20,  and  a  half  year's  imprisonment. 

By  a  statute  passed  eight  years  subsequently,  the  above  penalties 
are  somewhat  mitigated.  Certain  rates  of  interest  had  been  by  law 
estabUshed  in  other  European  countries.  As  lately  as  1490^  the 
rate  in  Placentia,  an  Italian  city  of  considerable  commerce,  was  40 
per  cent.  Charles  V.,  of  Spain  and  Germany,  had  fixed  the  rate 
in  the  Low  Countries  at  12  per  cent.  Lewis,  Count  of  Provence, 
had,  in  1406,  allowed  the  merchants  of  Marseilles  to  lend  and 
borrow  at  10  per  cent. 

Thus  far  we  have  seen  that  the  laws  of  England  regarded  all 
interest  on  loans  as  criminal.  In  the  succeeding  reign  we  shall 
find  a  very  decided  change  in  the  laws. 

In  the  37th  year  of  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.,  1546,  a  statute 
was  enacted  declaring  all  rates  of  interest  above  10  per  cent,  to  be 
usurious  and  unlawfiil ;  thus  t£u;itly,  though  not  declaratively,  pro^ 
nouncing  10  per  cent,  and  all  inferior  rates  lawfiil.  From  this  time 
forward,  the  laws  have,  with  one  brief  exception,  made  a  distinction 
between  interest  and  usury. 

Although  this  legal  revolution  was  a  great  improvement^  yet  w« 


Oil  the  Usury  Lmos.  63 

cannot  but  wonder  that  it  did  not  extend  80  far,  as  to  leav^  money 
contracts  perfectly  unfettered  by  law.  Our  surprise  will  vanish, 
however,  on  looking  over  the  records  of  Parliament  during  the  reign 
of  Henry,  and  there  finding,  that  not  only  was  a  price  fixed  upon 
the  use  of  money,  but  also  upon  poultry,  cheese,  butter,  beef,  pork, 
mutton,  veal,  and  the  labour  of  artisans.  Beef  and  pork  were  ordered 
to  be  sold  at  a  half-penny  a  pound,  while  mutton  and  veal  were 
fixed  at  a  half-farthing  hi^er.  These  wise  statutes  inform  us  that 
poor  people  alone  ate  the  four  kinds  of  meat  last  mentioned. 

Under  Queen  Elizabeth,  a  more  liberal  spirit  prevailed,  and  the 
commercial  wants  of  her  subjects  were  treated  with  greater  respect. 
The  statute  of  Henry  VHL,  legalizing  interest  at  10  per  cent., 
which  had  been  abolished  by  Edward  VI.,  was  revived ;  and  since 
that  period,  all  that  has  been  attempted  by  the  laws  has  been  the 
restraint  of  interest  within  certain  limits,  which  limits  have  been 
gradually  contracted  by  successive  statutes  firom  10  per  cent,  to  8, 
in  the  reign  of  James  I. ;  to  6  per  cent,  by  the  Rump  Parliament, 
in  1654,  whose  laws  thereon  was  confirmed  in  the  reign  of  Charles 
II. ;  and  finally  to  5  per  cent,  in  the  reign  of  Queen  Anne,  whose 
statute  remains  in  force  to  this  day.  In  the  quaint  language  of  a 
writer  of  the  last  century,  (speaking  of  the  statute  of  Henry  VIII.) 
"  the  good  folks,  in  the  5th  and  6th  of  King  Edward  VI.,  repealed 
this  law;  but  the  wiser  folks  of  the  13th  year  of  Queen  Elizabeth 
repealed  that  law." — {And.  Hist,  of  Commercey  vol.  I.  375.) 

Although  the  rate  of  interest  in  England  during  the  days  of  Eli- 
zabeth was  10  per  cent.,  it  was  then  as  low  as  6^  per  cent,  in 
France,  in  consequence,  unquestionably,  of  the  superiority  of  the 
latter  country  over  England  in  point  of  money  capital ;  by  the 
abundance  of  which,  commercial  prosperity  may  in  general  be 
measured.  When  the  rate  in  England  had  been  reduced  to  6  per 
cent.,  the  following  were  the  rates  in  other  countries,  according  to 
an  author  (Sir  Josiah  Child)  who  wrote  in  1688: — In  Scotland 
and  Ireland  10  and  12  per  cent.;  in  France  7;  in  Italy  3;  in 
Turkey  20;  in  Spain  10  and  12. 

The  statute  of  Henry  VIII.,  with  the  exception  of  the  rate  of 
interest  therein  limited,  having  remained,  to  the  present  time,  the 
law  of  England,  we  will  quote  its  generd  prohibition  : — ^'  No  per- 
son, by  way  of  corrupt  bargain,  loan,  exchange,  cherisance,  shifl, 
interest  of  any  wares,  merchandises,  or  other  thing  whatsoever, 
shall  take,  in  lucre  or  gains,  or  for  the  forbearing,  or  giving  day  of 
payment,  for  a  year,  above  the  rate  of  10  pounds  per  centum  per 
'annum." 

When  this  statute  was  revived  by  the  statute  of  Elizabeth,  a  fur- 
ther clause  was  inserted  to  this  effect,  "  that  in  the  interpretation  of 
the  law  it  was  to  be  most  largely  and  strongly  construed  fi)r  the 
repressing  of  usury,  and  against  all  persons  that  should  offend 
against  the  true  meaning  of  that  statute,  by  any  way  or  device, 
directly  or  indirectly." 


64  On  the  Uwry  liam$, 

la  this  carefol  Iwpuige  njay  be  detected  en  acknowledgment  6f 
the  fact^  that  money  lenders  had  resorted  to  a  great  variety  of  exjpe- 
dients  by  which  to  evade  the  operation  of  law.  It  had  been  ever 
ao.  The  lenders  and  brokers  of  old  times  in  England  were  aa 
shrewd  and  crafty,  and  as  well  acquainted  with  the  slippery  tricks 
of  evaaioni  as  any  of  their  descendants  of  our  times.  Our  readers 
will  not  infer,  from  this  remark,  that  we  are  very  violent  enemies 
of  such  infractions  c^  what  we  consider  unjust  laws.  On  the  con- 
trary, we  are  ready  to  say,  in  the  language  of  Bentham,  '^  if  this 
page  suggest  an  expedient,  and  that  a  safe  and  commodious  one, 
fer  evading  the  la^ea  against  usury,  it  will  not  lie  very  heavy  on 
our  consciences m^^ 

The  inference  to  be  drawn  from  the  language  of  the  statute  is 
just.  There  had  been  long  kept  up  '^a  running  fight"  between 
the  usurers  and  the  Parliament;  and  ParUament  found,  at  last, 
that  new  modes  c&  evasion  sprung  up  more  rapidly  than  they  could 
legislate  against  old  ones ;  and,  in  despair  of  suppressing  usury  by 
a  specification  of  all  its  possible  forms,  they  took  refuge  in  the 
general  prohibition  of  exorbitant  interest,  ^^  either  directly  or 
indirectly t  or  by  any  shift,  or  by  any  deceitful  way  or  means,*^ 

We  may  perluips,  with  advantage,  point  out  some  of  the  modes 
resorted  to  by  lenders  in  £ngland  for  the  purpose  of  evading  the 
law. 

But  first  for  the  benefit  of  the  unlearned,  we  will  mention  that 
th&re  are  certain  species  of  loan  for  which  the  laws  allow  an  inde- 
finit  erate  of  interest  to  be  charged. 

Among  these  may  be  named  loans  on  Bottomry  and  Respoti' 
dentia,  or  maritime  loans^ — where  the  money  is  borrowed  with  re- 
ference to  a  particular  voyage,  and  is  to  be  refiinded  only  if  the  voy« 
age  be  performed.  The  ship  itself,  or  the  cargo,  is  pledged  for  the 
principal  and  interest,  neither  of  which  is  to  be  paid  if  the  vessel  or 
cargo,  as  the  case  may  be,  be  lost  in  the  voyage  contemplated  in 
the  loan.  In  these  cases  interest  is  not  unfrequently  charged  as 
high  as  30  or  50  per  cent. 

One  evasive  expedient  of  usurers  was  loaning  on  ficticious  risks, 
so  as  to  give  to  the  transaction  the  appearance  of  bottomry,  or  some 
other  le^  contract;  as  for  example,  where  the  contingency  in  the 
bond  was,  that  one,  out  of  certain  twenty  ships  from  Newcafitle  to 
London,  arrived  in  safety. 

Another  expedient,  frequently  used,  was  a  pretended  sale  of 
goods  :  the  purchase  paying  an  exorbitant  price  for  them,  and 
then  re-selling  them'  to  the  lender  at  a  less  price,  so  as  to  give  him 
the  difl^ence  as  interest. 

In  this  mode  of  lending,  the  borrower  drew  a  ficticious  bill  of 
exchange  on  some  person  supposed  to  be  abroad ;  the  bill  was  nev^ 
negotiated,  but  passed  through  the  process  of  protesting,  and  was 
thus  made  to  charge  the  borrower  with  exchange,  re-exchange  and 
other  incidentals,  over  and  above  legal  interest 


Oil  the  Usury  Laws.  65 

A  fourth  plan  was  the  lending  of  stock  instead  of  money,  on  in- 
terest^ at  a  nominal  value  higher  than  its  market  price. 

The  advance  of  money  on  a  pretended  partnership,  and  the  re- 
ceipt of  interest  as  the  profits  of  the  concern,  was  still  another 
device. 

The  same  ohject  was  sometimes  efiected  by  the  means  of  a  lease 
on  an  enormous  rent ; — or  by  receiving  a  lease  instead  of  interest ; 
—or  by  the  purchase  of  annuities  at  low  prices  of  the  annuitants 
and  so  converting  the  dividends  into  interest;  and  by  a  thousand 
other  methods,  all  of  which,  by  their  trouble  and  risk,  rendered 
it  necessary  for  the  lender  to  raise  still  higher  his  rate,  in  order  to 
insure  himself;  and  all  of  which  may  be  set  down  as  the  inevitable 
mischief  of  usury  laws. 

The  ordinary  rate  of  interest  is  now  less  than  five  per  cent.,  in 
consequence  of  the  excess  of  monied  capital  above  the  calls  for  pro- 
fitable investment.  To  this' fact  as  a  cause,  we  may  ascribe  the 
circumstances  that  many  wealthy  individuals  have  purchased  foreign 
stock  which  yields  a  much  higher  interest*. 

We  have  now  completed  our  historical  survey  of  the  subject  of 
usury. 

*  Our  readers  have  perceived  that,  almost  ever  since  the  introduc- 
tion of  money,  and  in  almost  every  promioent  nation,  there  have 
existed  usury  laws  :  that  wherever  and  whenever  these  laws  have 
been  the  most  severe,  then  and  there  have  usurious  practices  most 
abounded  and  been  most  abused ;  that  originally  these  laws  have 
been  based  on  the  principle  that  all  rates  of  interest  are  wrong; 
that,  as  men  have  become  more  enlightened  and  more  commercial, 
that  principle  has  been  abandoned  as  absurd;  that  in  later  times 
the  laws  against  usury  have  assumed  as  their  basis,  what  is  not 
true,  that  the  law  can  regulate  the  value  of  the  use  of  money,  and  of 
course  that  the  fixing  of  a  lawful  legal  rate  of  interest  may  be  made 
the  cause  of  national  wealth  and  prosperity. 

From  the  facts  thus  laid  open,  the  most  eminent  political  econo- 
mists of  the  last  half  century  have  deduced  the  principle,  that 
legislation  should  no  more  interfere  with  money  contracts  than 
with  contracts  of  any  other  description,  but  that  the  appearance  of 
fraud  and  injustice  therein  should,  as  in  all  other  cases,  be  within 
the  reach  of  legal  redress. 

It  is  matter  of  surprise  that  Legislatures  have  not  made  and 
acted  upon  the  same  discovery.     Hoping  to  help  onward  in  some 

*  In  France,  interest  was  reduced  in  1720  from  5  to  2  per  cent.:  in 
1724  it  was  raised  to  3^  per  cent. ;  and  in  1725  to  5  per  cent. :  in  1756, 
it  was  reduced  to  4  per  cent. ;  and  afterwards  raised  again  to  5. .  Smithes 
Wealth  of  Nations.  B.  L  c.  9. 

In  Bengal,  money  is  frequently  lent  to  the  fanners  at  40,  50,  and 
60  per  cent.;  the  next  crop  oeing  mortgaged  for  the  payment.  Twelve 
per  cent,  is  said  to  be  the  common  rate  in  China. 

VOL.  III.   (1834.)    NO.  I.  F 


Q6  On  the  Usury  Laws* 

soptall  degree  that  progress  of  public  seatiment  which  ultimately 
compels  all  legislatures  into  obedience,  we  shall  now  proceed  to 
examine  some  of  the  various  arguments  by  which  the  proposition, 
that  the  law  ought  not  to  interfere  with  the  rate  of  interest  on 
money  lent,  is  supported. 

The  first  question  to  be  answered  is,  ^  Whether  the  law  ought 
to  permit  the  giving  or  receiving  of  interest  at  any  rate  or  in  any 
case? 

This  question  may  be  said  to  depend  on  the  morality  or  immo- 
rality of  taking  interest.  No  person  is  so  ignorant  of  the  principles 
of  political  economy  as  to  doubt,  that  lending  and  borrowing  on 
interest  are  of  great  practical  convenience  and  utility.  The  dispute 
must  tum^  then,  upon  the  question  of  morals.  For  if  borrowing 
and  lending  on  interest  be  immoral^  no  matter  what  may  be  the 
convenience  or  pecuniary  benefit  of  these  reciprocal  sins^  they 
should,  of  course,  be  strictly  forbidden. 

We  pray  our  readers  to  bear  constantly  in  mind  the  fact,  that  if 
either  borrowing  or  lending  on  interest  be  morally  wrong,  both  are 
wrong,  and  the  one  is  as  great  a  sin  as  the  other.  Such  is  the  &ct 
with  relation  to  any  act  which  requires  the  concurrence  of  several 
individuals.  Thus  the  victim^  who  casts  himself  to  be  crushed 
beneath  the  ponderous  wheels  of  the  car  of  Juggernaut,  is  not  less 
guilty  of  idolatry,  than  is  the  priest  who  guides  the  course  of  the 
murderous  vehicle.  The  recollection  of  this  principle  may  mate- 
rially aid  us  in  deciding  the  question  at  issue. 

It  mayj  at  first  sight,  seem  needless  to  argue  this  question  of 
morals.  But  when  it  is  recollected  that  far  better,  as  well  as  far 
more  numerous  reasons  can  be  adduced  to  prove  that  all  interest  is 
immoral,  than  to  prove  that  the  law  ought  to  interfere  with  the 
rate ;  that  until  recently,  the  subject  of  usury,  as  before  remarked^ 
has  been  considered  and  debated  as  one  of  mere  morals, — and  that 
important  conclusions  for  future  application  will  be  drawn  from  the 
manner  in  which  this  question  may  now  be  decided, — its  discussion 
will  not  be  considered  unnecessary. 

Let  us  inquire,  then,  whether  it  be  morally  wrong  to  pay  or  to 
receive  interest. 

The  question,  as  we  have  already  hinted,  has  been  argued  in  the 
negative  by  Aristotle,  and  other  Greek  as  well  as  Latin  authors : — 
by  the  early  Christian  Fathers,  amongst  whom  appear  the  names 
of  Cyprian,  Lactantius,  Basil,  CJirysostom,  Gregory,  Ambrose, 
Jerome,  and  Augustin ;  by  the  decrees  of  Catholic  councils ;  by 
the  bulls  of  popes ;  bv  the  statutes  of  most  European  nations  of 
the  middle  ages,  and  by  '  a  cloud  of  witnesses,'  who,  as  writers  on 
morals  and  politics,  have  lifted  up  their  vcHces  against  the  abomi* 
nahle  practice  of  letting  money  to  hire. 

To  the  fallacious  reasoning  of  the  heathen  philosopher,  we  have 
already  replied.  He  was  the  declared  enemy  of  commerce,  and  of 
course  would  denounce  a  practice  which  has  ever  been  the  main- 


On  ike  Usury  Lmu.  §7 

9pkmg  of  c0|iAntr6iaI  proiperity.  The  atgument  by  whieh  he  «n- 
oeaTouis  Iq  show  that  the  taking  of  int^est  Lb  wrong,  seems  to  be 
based  on  the  name  given  to  it  by  hifi  countrymen.  They  cisdled 
it '  iwwr/ — offspringr-^^nd  the  philosopher  denounces  this  unna- 
toial  generaticH)  of  money  from  money>  as  zealously  as  though  he 
supposed  the>  Greeks  really  imagined  that  interest  was  begotten  of 
principal.  It  is  unnecessary  to  spend  time  in  replying  to  such 
arguments.  The  strange  fact  that  this  reasoning  has,  in  modem 
days,  found  disciples,  must  be  ascribed  to  that  principle  of  human 
weakness,  which  induces  us,  in  our  admiration  di  the  splendour  of 
genius,  to  receive  with  respect  even  its  errors. 

Christian  hostiUtj  to  the  practice  of  lending  and  borrowing  on 
interest,  originated  m  a  misinterpretation  of  the  Mosaic  law.  The 
passages  on  which  the  error  was  founded,  have  been  (juoted  already 
at  length.  In  the  opinion  of  the  Fathers,  they  contam  an  unquali- 
fied declaration  that  all  interest  is  sinful^  and  that  a  prohibition  of  that 
SHiis  as  obligatory  iqpon  us  as  it  was  upon  the  Jews ;  but  itis  diffi-» 
cult  to  eonodh^e  bow  they  could  have  deduced  such  an  opinion  from 
9ach  a  text.  Had  Moses  intended  to  declare  interest  sinful,  he 
would  not  have  allowed  it  to  be  taken  of  a  stranger,  or  to  be  paid 
to  a  stranger.  Unless  he  meant  to  declare  it  sinful  in  itself,  his 
eominand  to  the  Jews  has  no  application  to  any  other  people,  but 
should  be  regarded  as  an  exception  from  a  gencaral  rule,  applicable 
io  the  Israelites  only,  to  whose  character  as  a  people  we  must  look 
for  the  intention  of  the  law.  Unless  we  mean  to  assume  the  burden 
of  the  whole  Mosaic  dispensation,  we  must  beware  of  taking  any 
part  thereof,  except  it  be  clearly  intended  for  universal  application. 

A  celebrated  writer,  in  defending  this  doctrine  of  the  Councils, 
finding  it  rather  difficult  to  deal  wiUx  the  objection  drawn  from  the 
discrimination  which  Moses  makes  between  usury  amongst  the 
Jews,  and  usury  between  JeWs  and  strangers,  very  ingeniously 
remarks  that  the  Israelites  were  commanded  to  exterminate  the 
Gentile  nations  of  Judea,  and  that  this  permission  to  diarge  them 
usury  was  a  part  of  the  apparatus  of  destruction. 

UnfiMl^onfl^y  for  the  soundness  of  this  argument,  he  does  not 
explain  in  what  manner  the  Gentiles  were  to  suffer  bv  lending  on 
i  usury,  even  if  they  would  be  injured  by  borrowing.     The  intention 

of  the  law  must  have  flEuled,  in  consequence  of  its  not  prohibiting 
the  Jews  firom  paying  usury  to  their  neighbours, — ^who  were  thus 
e(|iuaUy  fiumished  with  the  engine  of  destruction. 

The  argument  is  rendered  not  merelv  null«  but  even  ridiculous^ 
by  the  light  of  modern  intelligenoe.  We  now  know  that  the  prac- 
tice in  question,  so  far  firom  being  calculated  to  exterminate  or 
injure  either  borrowers  or  lenders,  is  the  very  soul  of  commercial 
prosperity.  We  now  feel  that  a  conscience  so  tender  as  to  con* 
aenm  it,  would,  on  principle,  condemn  every  other  business  transac- 
tion, and  drive  mankind  back  again  to  the  caves  for  a  habitation^ 

and  for  sustenance  to  their  [Mimitive  diet  on  acorns. 

f2 


€6  Obi  the  Usury  Laws. 

The  Mosaic  law,  therefore,  furnishes  no  proof  that  it  is  moraDy 
wrong  to  let  or  hire  money  upon  interest.*  But  the  enemies  of  this 
practice  have  drawn  arguments  fix)m  natural  as  well  as  revealed 
i«Iigion.  We  will  now  take  some  notice  of  the  former,  as  they  are 
summed  up  in  the  work  of  Monsieur  Domat,  a  French  civilian  of 
the  seventeenth  century. 

After  declaring  the  taking  of  interest  to  be  a  sin  most  strongly 
condemned  in  the  Scriptures^  he  thus  proceeds : — *  If  therefore  we 
would  discover  what  is  the  character  of  the  iniquity  which  renders 
interest  so  criminal  before  God,  and  which  ought  to  make  it  so  to 
us,  both  in  our  hearts  and  minds,  we  have  only  to  consider  what 
die  nature  of  this  contract  of  loan  is,  in  order  to  judge  whether  it 
be  just  to  take  interest  for  it  or  not ;  and  we  shall  easily  perceive, 
by  the  natural  principles  of  the  use  which  God  has  given  to  this 
contract  in  the  society  of  men,  that  taking  interest  is  a  crime 
which  violates  these  principles,  and  undermmes  the  very  founda- 
tions of  the  order  of  society.' 

He  then  goes  on  to  declare,  as  a  general  fundamental  principle, 
that  the  very  essence  of  a  loan  of  any  thing  to  be  returned  in  kind, 
(as  money,)  is,  that  it  be  gratuitous  and  charitable :  thus  furnish- 
ing a  singular  examjde  of  what  logicians  would  call  a  petitio  prin- 
ciplt, — a  taking  for  granted  the  very  substance  of  the  proposition 
in  controversy. 

If  loans  were  indeed  gratuitous,  the  onlv  inference  that  could  be 
drawn  from  this  fact  would  seem  to  be,  that  letting  money  to  hire 
is  not  a  loan ;  but  if  letting  money  to  hire  be  a  loan,  then  loans  are 
not  in  their  nature  gratuitous.  Either  way,  we  see  that  the  civi- 
lian's argument  is  unsatisfiictory. 

Having  presented  this  elementary  principle  as  the  basis  of  his 
reasoning,  he  next  arrays  a  company  of  arguments  to  prove  the 
taking  of  interest  to  be  a  violation  of  the  order  of  society. 

The  first  is,  that  money  lent,  returnable  in  kind,  is  not  exposed 
to  insensible  diminution,  or  wear  and  tear,  and  that,  therefore, 
nothing  should  be  paid  for  the  use  of  it.  Had  he  said  that  nothing 
should  be  paid  for  wear  and  tear,  the  proposition  would  have  been 
true.  But  it  no  more  proves  that  the  borrower  ought  not  to  pay 
for  the  use  of  money,  than  the  fetct,  that  the  lessee  of  a  hrm  cannot 
use  that  fiEum  like  negotiable  paper,  because  he  ought  to  pay  no  rent. 

The  second  argument  against  interest  is,  that  if  the  borrower  by 
accident  lose  the  use  of  the  money,  he  is  still  bound  to  pay  the  in- 
terest, as  though  he  had  used  it. 

The  same  objection  would  lie  against  pa3^g  house  rent,  in  case 
the  house  be  destroyed  by  fire,  so  that  the  use  of  it  is  lost.  But 
the  law  very  properly  requires  the  borrower  in  the  one  case,  and 
the  tenant  in  the  other,  to  provide  against  loss. 

The  third  argument  is,  that  if  the  borrower  accidentally  lose  die 
principal,  the  lender  nevertheless  requires  him  to  repay  the  sum, 
borrowed,  with  interest  according  to  the  contract.    Is  this  a  hard- 


On  th»  Utury  Lams,  6f 

dup  ?  So  iroald  the  loss  be  ft  hardship  to  the  lender,  who  perhaps 
is  the  least  able  to  bear  it.  The  law  attributes  gross  negligence  to 
a  person  who  is  so  careless  as  to  lose  borrowed  money;  and  in 
every  instance  of  gross  negligence,  the  fiiulty  person  is  justly  made 
the  loser. 

But  the  fourth  argument  is,  of  all^  the  most  remarkable.  It  is 
this,--^e  borrower  of  money  becomes,  on  its  delivery  to  him,  the 
owner  thereof,  with  absolute  right  to  dispose  of  it  at  his  will,  and 
ought  not  therefore  to  be  obliged  to  pay  for  the  use  of  that  which  is 
his  own.  This  argument  supposes  interest  to  be  paid  for  the  iden- 
tical piece  of  coin  or  slip  of  paper  transferred  by  the  lender  to  the 
borrower — ^instead  of  for  the  value  which  the  coin  or  paper  repre- 
sents. Of  the  external  sign  of  the  value  the  borrower  becomes  ab- 
sdute  master,  but  of  the  value^  itself  he  is  only  the  purchaser  for 
a  specified  time. 

The  whole  of  these  arguments  against  interest  are  founded  on 
the  false  assumption  already  named, — that  the  essential  character 
of  a  loan  is  charitable  and  gratuitous.  When  we  remember  that 
borrowing  and  lending  are  as  purely  busings  transactions  as  are 
buying  and  selling,  or  the  letting  to.  hire  of  land,  houses,  ships,  or 
merchandise,  we  shall  perceive  the  entire  inapplicability  of  all  ar- 
guments drawn  fix>m  a  contrary  supposition. 

The  weakness  of  these  arguments  will  further  appear  from  the 
fiict,  that  they  do  not  approach  the  real  substantial  reasons  for 
paying  and  receiving  interest.  The  inquiry  may  now  be  made* 
therefore,  why  should  interest  be  paid  ?  The  answer  is,  that  A,  by 
borrowing,  has  deprived  B,  perhaps  greatly  to  his  injury,  of  the 
power  of  employing  such  other  profitable  modes  of  investment  as 
he  would  otherwise  have  enjoyed,*^ — ^because  A  has  procured  of  B 
an  instrument,  by  means  of  which  he  can  benefit  himself,  either  by 
the  payment  of  former  debts,  the  purchase  of  desired  articles,  or 
any  otner  investment ;— because  B  has  assumed  the  risks  of  never 
bemg  paid,  arising  from  the  manner  in  which  A  shall  employ  the 
money,  from  his  personal  character  and  credit,  and  from  every 
other  circumstance  by. which  the  recovery  of  the  loan  is  rendered 
doubtful  or  difficult ; — and,  finally,  because  he  voluntarily  under- 
took, after  mature  deliberation,  with  a  full  understanding  of  the 
contract,  and  on  irhsX  he  deemed  ample  consideration,  to  make 
sudi  payment. 

If  these  reasons  be  not  sufficient  to  prove  that  nothing  in  the  law 
of  nature  forbids  either  the  payment  or  the  receipt  of  interest,  then 
is  there  no  contract  whatsoever,  amongst  business  men,  which  is 
consistent  with  the  law  of  nature. 

We  think  it  quite  clear,  therefore,  that  neither  revelation  nor 
natural  religion  pronounces  the  taking  or  the  giving  of  interest  to 
be  morally  wrong.  We  now  come  to  the  second  question :— ought 
the  Legislature  to  interfere  with  the  private  rights  of  borrowenr  and 
lenders,  and  attempt  to  fix  th^  rate  of  interest  by  limitation  ? 


to  On  the  Uiury  Laws. 

To  OS  it  fieemft  perfectly  inaiufest  that  the  laws-  shonld  ao  more 
interfere  with  money  contraeto,  than  vrith  oontracte  of  any  other 
kind.  In  the  one^  as  in  the  other^  provision  should  always  be 
aiada  against  fraud ;  but  the  rules  of  the  law  shoiM  be  of  general, 
instead  of  specific  application. 

The  laws  ought  not  to  interfere  with  the  rate  of  interest,  because 
9U0h  an  interference  is  an  mfrtnsemenf  of  private  rights,  un^ 
iDarranted  by  any  circumstance  of  public  benejit  or  convenience, 
and  therefore  whoBy  at  war  with  the  spirit  of  our  government. 

It  is  a  truth  femiliar  to  us  aU, — ^felt  by  us  all, — ^that  that  govern- 
ment  is  the  best,  which,  by  the  smallest  machinery,  and  the  sim- 
plest process,  and  the  least  infringement  of  individual  liberty,  ef- 
fects the  purpose  for  which  government  was  intended, — the  general 
wdfase. 

Guided  by  this  proposition,  and  knowing  that  a  part  of  ovEt  in- 
dividual Hberty  is  the  liberty  of  miiking  such  contracts  as  we  deem 
best  fox  our  own  interest, — ^the  liberty  of  managing  our  property 
in.  our  own  way, — ^we  cannot  but  feel  assured,  that,  unless  the  laws 
ftr  the  prevention  of  hiring  and  letting  money,  above  or  below  cer- 
tain rates,  be  called  for  by  the  public  good, — ^be  demanded  for  the 
purpose  of  preventing  or  removing  great  and  general  mischiefe, — 
they  are,  on  principle,  to  be  condemned  as  unnecessary,  and,  there<« 
A^e,  tyrannical. 

We  proceed  to  mquire  whether  there  be  evils,  and  what  those 
evils  are,  which  demand  for  their  cure  or  prevention  the  esurtence 
of  usury  laws. 

One  of  the  most  illustrious  of  the  Pblitical  Economists  of  the  last 
oentury,  remarks  in  his  work  on  the  Wealth  of  Nations,  ''  that  if 
the  laws  tolerated  the  giving  and  taking  of  a  rate  of  interest  much 
above  the  lowest  market  rate,  the  greater  part  of  the  money  lent 
would  be  lent  to  prodigak  and  prcgectors,  who  alone  wonla  give 
more  than  that  rate/' 

But  is  it  true,  that  if  money  contracts  were  left  unfettered  by 
law,  none  but  prodigals  and  imprudent  projectors  would  borrow  ? 

Nor  can  we  justly  fear  that  any  class  of  borrowers,  so  long  as 
they  can  offer  the  best  security,  will  be  subject  to  exorbitant  de- 
mands. Competition  amongst  lenders  will  always  bring  security 
and  rates  oi  interest  to  their  proper  levd.  No  one  wS  contend 
that  money  should  be  lent  on  bad  credit  and  doubtful  security,  at 
a^xate  so  low  as  that  commanded  by  the  best  credit,  and  the  most 
uncmestionable  security. 

1  That  prodigals  and  projectors  would  ever  monopolize  the  borrow- 
ing market,  no  one,  who  knows  how  few  there  are  in  any  commu- 
nity,  and  how  seldom  they  are  found  amongst  us,  can  believe. 

The  snqpposition  invcdved  in  Smith's  argument  is,  therefore,  felse. 
Nor  is  &at  alL  Were  it  true,  the  argument  would  nevertheless 
fitil^  inasmuch  as  the  bare  feet  that  the  two  classes  of  men  therein 
named  might  become  large  b(»rrowers>  and  be  exposed  to  extortion, 


On  the  Usttry  Laws,  71 

»  no  justification  of  the  law.  The  law  has  no  more  right  Co  pre- 
vent 8uch  pei^ons  from  forming  money  contract?^  than  it  has  (o 
prevent  them  from  purchasing  or  selfing  everj  species  of  property 
at  ruinous  prices. 

The  laws  may^  and  very  properlv  do^  provide  for  the  appointment 
of  gQordiaiis  over  those  whose  conduct  shows  them  incapable  of  self- 
direction.  They  provide^  with  equal  propriety^  that  the  designing 
and  fraudulent  shall  not  be  allowea  to  harm  these  helpless  creatures 
in  person  or  property.  Beyond  this  they  have  n6  right  to  go, — 
and  every  step  beyond  is  to  be  repelled  as  a  trespass  upon  the  sa- 
cred precincts  of  man's  inalienable  rights. 

It  has  been  very  truly  remarked,  that  he  must  be  poorly  supphed 
with  discretion,  who  cannot  make  his  own  bargains  more  judiciously 
than  any  legislature  can  make  them  for  him.' 

We  come  to  the  conclusion,  then,  that  neither  the  prevention  of 
prodigality  or  imprudent  speculation,  nor  the  protection  of  folly,  is 
a  sufficient  cause  for  legal  interference  with  the  rate  of  interest. 
It  may  further  be  remarked,  that  if  the  law  can  be  justified  in 
this  interference,  under  pretext  of  protecting  simplicity,  it  ought 
to  go  farther  than  it  ever  has  done,  and  forbid  the  lending  of  money 
under  a  certain  rate  per  cent. ;  for  surely  the  simplicity  of  a 
money  lender  is  as  proper  a  subject  of  legislation,  as  the  folly  of  a 
borrower ;  and  we  know  not  which,  in  a  business  point  of  view, 
would  be  deemed  the  greater  simpleton, — ^he  who  lets  money  at  fiv6 
per  cent,  when  it  is  really  worth  eighteen,— or  he  who  borrows  it 
at  eighteen  per  cent,  when  it  is  woith  only  five. 

It  cannot  be  doubted  that,  if  the  usury  laws  were  repealed,  there 
would  be  occasional  instances  of  fraud  and  extortion  ;  but  neither 
can  it  be  doubted  that  there  are  such  instances  now. 

It  cannot  be  questioned  that  an  occasional  prodigal  or  simpleton*, 
or  other  person  in  pressing  want  of  money,  would,  in  case  there 
were  no  laws  against  usury,  be  obliged  to  ]>ay  a  miich  higher  rat^ 
of  mterest  than  is  now  the  legal  rate.  Sut  under  the  laws  them- 
selves, many  an  honest  and  prudent  man  is  forced,  nay  more,  is 
willing  and  anxious,  to  pay  the  same  excess. 

The  second  argument  against  usury  laws  is  ^  that,  so  far  as 
concerns  their  declared  intention^  they  are  absolute  nulKties;  in 
other  wordsy  that  they  are  always  evaded  and  violated.* 

It  is  so  now :  it  always  has  been  so :  and  it  always  will  be  so, 
while  such  laws  exist. 

We  have  perceived  that  the  practice  of  usury  Was  always  absurd 
in  exact  proportion  to  the  severity  of  the  laws  against  it.  When 
the  laws  amounted  to  prohibition,  then  interest  was  highest :  as 
they  relaxed  in  severity,  it  grew  moderate  in  its  rate.  Thus  in 
Grreece,  where  there  was  no  legal  interference,  money  ebul^  be  pro^ 
cured  on  the  most  hazardous  voyages,  at  a  rate  iar  below  that  paid 
by  the  fkrmers  of  Cyprus  on  comnK>n  loans  m  the  days  of  Cicero. 


72  On  the  Usury  Laws, 

So  now  in  Constantinople^  where  usury  is  wholly  forbidden^  the 
customary  rate  of  interest  on  ordinary  loans  is  30  per  cent. 

Let  us  now  translate  the  lessons  of  experience  and  observation 
into  common  language^  and  we  shall  learn  from  them  that  borrow- 
ing and  lending  will  exist  in  defiance  of  law,  in  every  commercial 
community;  that  money  will  always  command  its  full  market  value; 
that,  if  the  laws  fix  a  rate  much  below  the  average  market  price, 
they  will  be  subject  to  constant,  direct,  and  indirect  violation ;  and 
that,  if  the  laws  fix  a  rate  differing  but  little  from  the  average 
market  price,  they  will  be  infringed  only  when  the  market  price  is 
above  that  rate ;  we  have  before  seen  that  the  market  price  of 
money,  like  that  of  all  other  things,  is  ever  changing;  from  all 
which  follows  inevitably  the  conclusion,  that  the  laws  must  always 
be  subject  to  evasion  and  infraction. 

From  this  inability  of  the  laws  to  curb  the  course  of  business 
arises  certain  consequences,  the  nature  of  which  furnishes  a  third 
argument  against  usury  laws ; — ^to  wit,  that  they  are  a  serious 
evil  to  both  borrowers  and  lenders. 

Probably  all  of  us  have  felt  this  fact ; — ^perhaps  some  have  mis- 
understood it :  we  shall  endeavour  so  fax  as  we  can,  to  give  an 
explanation  of  it. 

The  rate  of  interest  at  which  any  person  can  borrow,  depends 
chiefly  on  the  general  relation  at  that  time  existing  between  the 
supply  of  money  in  the  market  and  the  demand  for  its  use.  It  is 
also  affected  by  the  character  and  credit  of  the  borrower, — the 
nature  of  the  use  to  which  the  principal  will  be  applied,  if  that  can 
be  known, — and  a  multitude  of  other  circumstances,  which  vary 
the  probability  of  repayment : — or,  in  other  words,  by  the  security 
offered  by  the  borrower,  and  by  the  circumstances  attending  the 
loan. 

Interest  is  therefore  of  a  mixed  character ; — ^it  partakes  of  the 
nature  of  insurance  as  well  as  of  rent. 

When  the  market  rate  is  highest,  when  it  rises  above  the  law's 
allowance,  then  is  money  invariably  the  most  wanted.  At  such 
times  what  is  the  effect  of  the  law  ? 

Ostensibly  it  wholly  prevents  both  borrowing  and  lending.  It 
says  to  the  money-owner,  who,  of  course,  will  not  lend  below  the 
market  rate,  ^  You  shall  not  lend  at  all.'  It  says  to  the  would-be 
borrower,  whose  prospect  of  profit,  or  whose  fear  of  loss^  prompts 
him  to  hire  at  the  market  value,  '  No  matter  what  are  your  wishes, 
no  matter  what  your  necessities,  no  matter  how  excellent  your 
judgment,  you  shall  not  borrow  above  the  legal  rate.  I  know  that 
you  cannot  get  the  money  at  that  rate ;  I  know  that  you  could 
vastly  increase  your  property,  or  escape  destruction  by  borrowing 
at  almost  any  interest ;  but  you  had  better  by  far  stop  business 
than  procure  your  facilities  at  seven  per  cent.' 

To  the  man  of  small  capital,  whose  rich  neighbours  are  borrow- 
ing with  difficulty  at  full  legal  interest,  but  who  is  himself  unable 


On  the  Usury  Laws,  73 

to  oSn  the  best  seeurity^  and  of  course  cannot  borrow  quite  so  low, 
the  law  exclaims^  '^  I  pray  you  be  easy;  you  must  not  think  of 
over-bidding  the  law ;  you  cannot  borrow  in  these  days  ;  leave  that 
to  your  wealthier  neighbours^  and  wait  patiently  until  money  is 
worth  less.  They  may  be  amassing  still  larger  fortunes  meanwnile, 
and  you  may  be  ruined — ^but  there  is  some  comfort  in  being  ruined 
according  to  law." 

Such  are  the  principles  of  the  law.  A  more  odious  monopoly 
than  this, — a  more  hateful  distinction  in  favour  of  the  rich  and 
against  the  poor^  could  not  well  be  made. 

Such  are  not,  however,  the  real  effects  of  the  law,  as  a  general 
rule;  borrowers,  at  such  times,  laugh  at  the  law,  and  offer  the 
highest  price  demanded  for  money.  But  instead  of  paying  what 
would  be  its  price  were  there  no  usury  laws,  they  are  obliged  to 
pay,  as  an  insurance  against  the  laws,  at  least  33  per  cent,  above 
that  price. 

In  the  first  place,  the  laws  hold  out  a  bribe  to  dishonest  bor- 
rowers sufficiently  large  to  tempt  almost  any  man  in  his  hour  of 
weakness  to  resist  the  payment  of  the  debt,  and  recover  back  from 
the  lender  that  penalty  which  -the  statutes  impose  upon  him. 
Against  this  risk^  created  by  legal  interference,  must  the  borrower 
insure  the  lender, — must  the  lender  insure  himself,  by  an  enhanced 
rate  of  interest ;  on  the  same  principle  that  the  lender  on  Bottomry 
bonds  increases  his  rate  in  the  stormy-season  of  tke  year,  or  on  a 
perilous  voyage. 

A  second  way  in  which  the  laws  are  an  injury  to  borrowers  by 
advancing  mterest  is,  diminishing  the  number  of  lenders,  and  con- 
sequently the  amount  of  that  competition  by  which  prices  are  kept 
down.  Many  a  man  will  refuse  to  lend  at  any  rate,  when  tne 
market  price  of  money  exceeds  the  legal  per  centage.  Respecting 
the  laws,  even  when  manifestly  wrong,  they  retire  from  the  market. 
Thus  is  competition  diminished.  By  the  same  process  the  quantity 
of  capital  in  the  market  is  also  reduced,  and  that  which  remains 
commands,  of  course,  an  increased  price. 

Besides  these  unfavourable  eircumstances,  there  is  another. 
Many  persons,  refusing  to  lend  above  the  legal  rate,  prefer  to  lend 
at  that  rate  to  such  borrowers  as  can  give  the  best  security.  Such 
men,  therefore,  become  the  creditors  of  banks  and  other  monied 
corporations,  which,  having  themselves  no  such  scruples,  do  not 
hesitate  to  lend  at  the  top  of  the  market. 

This  diminution  of  capital  and  of  competition,  as  we  before  said, 
elevates  the  price  of  money :  for  money  lending  is  like  stage  driv- 
ing,— the  more  the  opposition  the  lower  the  fare  :  it  is  like  every 
other  kind  of  business,  the  smaller  the  quantity  in  the  market  while 
the  demand  continues,  the  highef  is  the  price. 

But  the  evils  of  the  law  are  yet  more  extensive.  Those  men, 
who  retire  from  the  market  rather  than  violate  the  law,  are  the  very 
men  with  whom  borrowers  should  prefer  to  deal.     They  are  the 


74  Ontke  Uimy  Laws. 

tAost  gctkefotutt  the  most  con8<;ieiitiou8»  the  most  honourable*  These 
who  remaizi  as  lenders  are  in  ^neral  less  generous^  if  not  less 
honotirable  and  conscientious.  What  is  the  consequence?  Is  it 
not  a  more  rigid  exaction  of  the  highest  price  for  money  ? — a  more 
unyielding  and  unmerciful  spirit  of  money  making  ? 

In  view  of  all  these  fiicts^  can  it  be  doubted  that  usury  laws  are 
an  injury  to  borrowers  ?  Could  this  be  made  the  general  opinion^ 
those  laws  would  dpee<£ly  feU  before  the  voice  of  public  dislike; 
for  borrowers  form  an  immense  majority  in  the  community,  and  it 
is  their  mistaken  trust  in  the  beneficial  eflkct  of  the  laws  which  has 
preserved  them. 

The  injuries  inflicted  upon  lenders  by  legal  interference  are  equal 
in  number  and  severity.  They  increase  the  risks  upon  which  money 
is  lent.  It  ought  to  be  knoVn  and  fdt,  that  nSpart  of  what  ^ 
charged  upon  the  borrower  in  the  nature  of  insurance  is  justly 
called  profit.  It  is  not  profit:  it  is  indemnity, — indemnity  for  the 
loss  of  security.  That  part  of  the  rate  of  interest,  which  is  pro- 
perly called  profit,  is  the  small  fraction  which  the  lender  would 
charge  were  the  repayment  of  the  sum  lent  positively  certain.  That 
this  is  very  small,  may  be  seen  in  the  fact,  that  a  very  low  rate  of 
interest  is  charged  on  money  lent  upon  the  security  of  real  estate^ 
— and  a  stOl  smaller  rate  on  that  upon  government  security.  When 
money  is  worth  more  than  the  legal  rate,  the  perils  of  lenaing  hold 
a  mudh  larger  proportion  to  the  profit  than  on  ordinary  occasions. 
That  this  is  an  injury  no  one  can  doubt. 

In  conclusion^  we  must  observe,  and  truth  and  justice  will  sus* 
fain  us  in  it,  that  there  is  not  in  the  whole  circle  of  human  afiairs^ 
any  species  of  contract  whatsoever,  voluntarily  formed  by  and  be- 
tween persons  of  sound  mind,  whether  it  be  purchase  or  sale,  or 
lease,  or  charter-party,  or  any  other  mode  of  traffic  devised  by  hu- 
man ingenuity,  ever  prompt  to  relieve  its  own  necessities,  whidi 
the  laWj  if  consistent  with  itself,  ought  not  to  restrict  by  the  same 
regulations  which  now  encumber  the  letting  to  hire  of  money ;  and 
we  need  not  fear  to  defy  the  most  subtle  intellect  to  point  out  a 
solid  reason  for  the  invidious  distinction  which  now  exists.  Time 
was  when  the  legislature  extended  its  interfereuce  with  private 
rights  to  almost  every  act  of  private  life.  But  that  was  a  day  of 
political  darkness.  The  wisdom  of  the  people  has  ever  since  been 
mcreasing ;  one  after  another  of  these  legal  abuses  has  been  re- 
moved by  more  intelligent  legislatures,  until  no  relic  remains  of  the 
old  regime  of  error,  excepting  the  laws  against  usurv.  A  still  fiirther 
reform  will  follow  that  increase  of  knowledge  wnich  is  now  en- 
lightening the  community,  and  we  trust  that  the  time  is  not  very 
distant  when  these  will  disappear. 

Such  are  some  of  the  arguments  which  seem  to  us  to  prove  that 
usury  laws  ought  not  to  exist.  It  would  be  easy  to  multiply  them^ 
-^but  we  trust  that  we  have  said  enough  to  satisfy  any  reasonable 
man  of  the  truth  of  the  proposition  which  we  have  enaeavoured  to 


Tah$  of  hehmi.  71 

{«M^  W«  bav«  seen  that  00187 1&WB  ^""^  ne^dltw  ioiSaag^meiA^^ 
indiTidaal  Iibai;75  called  for  by  no  public  necessity  and  prodocug 
no  beneficial  eflfect.  We  have  seen  that  they  are  a  dead  letter 
almiys  Elated  and  evaded.  We  have  seen  that  they  are  produc* 
live  of  enormoos  evib  to  both  borvowers  and  lenders,  the  largest 
ahaore  of  the  evils  being  inflicted  on  tiiose  who  borrow.  We  have 
seen  that  they  are  foiuMled;  iqmn  fiadse  notions  of  political  economy ; 
aad,  finally,  that  they  are  inconsistent  in  principle,  and  partial  iai 
tbeir  operation.  In  view  of  all  theae  arginneats,  and  remembering 
that  in  stsiet  jnstioe  it  is  incumbent  npouthe  advocates  of  sach  kwa 
•o  pove  their  daima  to  our  fiarvoonible  regard,  we  feel  ourselves 
aiithomed  to  conidnde  that  they  oogfat  to  be  abotished. 


AaT.  VI. — Tkk9  of  inkmd.  By  the  Author  of  **  Traits  and  Stories  of 
the  Irish  Peasantry."  1  Vol.  8vo.  London :  Simpkixi  and  Marshall. 
1684. 

l^nsE  Tales  are  by  no  ordinary  writer,  as  every  page  of  this  volume 
proves,  and  as  every  one  will  admit  who  has  read  the  ^'Traita 
and  Stories  of  the  Irish  Peasantry/'  They  are  seven  in  number; 
consequently  short;  but  they  are  powerful  and  graphic.  It  is  im- 
possible, in  reeding  any  one  of  them,  not  to  perceive  that  the  pie^ 
tares  they  present  are  true.  They  are  chiefly  of  a  serious  nature, 
the  writes  solicitude  being  to  do  mere  than  amuse.  We  haver 
often  thought  that  it  is  something  better  than  being:  harmlessr 
that  tt  to  be  expected  in  the  writings  of  any  one  who  is  aware  of 
the  value  of  lime.  In  the  slightest  and  lightest  piece,  positive 
good!  should  be  aimed  at  by  the  author.  And  the  volume  before  us 
accomplishes  this  end  to  a  greater  extent  than  might  be  expected 
fbom  its  exterior,  its  title,  or  the  order  of  literature  to  which  it  be- 
longs. The  pictures  it  gives,  are  of  ignorance  among  the  Irish 
Roman  Cathcdic  people,  as  to  the  great  doctrines  of  Christianity, 
of  their  servile  fear  of  the  priesthood,  and  of  the  defdovable  eflecta 
which  often  proceed  from  marriages  between  Catholics  and  Pto^ 
testants.  These  topice  are  handled  with  great  earnestness,  and 
eaforced  through  the  medium  of  excellently  concocted  and  well-told 

The  author  modestly  expresses  his  Ambts  as  to  their  success, 
having  been  written  previously  to  each  of  the  preceding  works  pub* 
liriied  by  him,  although  they  have  alreadv  appeared  in  a  periodi- 
ca. Their  priority  in  poiut  of  writing  does  not  by  any  meana 
piDve  that  they  will  be  inferior  to  others  previously  published. 
Such  a  circumstance  often  has  quite  an  opposite  vesult.  The  eldest 
diild  is  not  unfrequently  the  best  as  well  as  the  deaiest.  The  first 
eflbrts  of  im  author  are  as  often  the  freshest  and  most  original  oB 
his  preductioiiks.  But  we  are  chiefly  called  on  to  let  oat  readers^ 
have  an  opportunity  of  judging  for  themselves  of  these  tales,  which 


I 


76  J^es  of  Ireland. 

are  strikingly  illustrative  of  the  religious  prejudices  and  feelings  rf 
the  Irish  people. 

-  The  first  in  the  volume  is,  "The  Death  of  a  Devotee;"— a  man 
who  dies,  trusting  and.  clinging  for  salvation  to  his  guilty  soul,  fiilly 
more  to  forms  and  symbol  than  to  the  holy  Redeemer,  whilst  his 
priest,  an  old  frail  man,  has  a  knowledge  of  the  truth,  and  a 
thorough  reliance  alone  upon  Him  who  is  mighty  to  save.  These 
are  solemn  subjects  to  be  treated  of  in  tales  and  fictions,  but  there 
is  neither  levity  nor  rashness  in  the  handling  of  them  by  the  writer. 
Indeed  the  result,  after  reading  the  one  we  are  first  to  quote  from, 
is  an  awfid  and  weighty  conception  of  the  infinite  importance  not 
merely  of  a  good  life,  but  of  a  sound  belief  and  right  knowledge  in 
the  leading  doctrines  of  Christianity.  The  incidents  all  belong  to 
a  stormy  night,  the  description  of  which  attunes  the  mind  of  the 
reader  to  a  proper  condition  for  more  appalling  things.  But  first 
of  the  site  of  a  habitation: — 

* 

**  The  priest's  house  was  situated  in  a  hollow,  somewhat  resembling 
an  old  excavation,  scooped  out  of  the  south  side  of  a  hill.  It  had  pro- 
bably been  a  limestone  quarry,  the  banks  of  which,  in  order  to  prevent 
waste,  had  been  levelled  in.  A  young  grove,  intermingled  with  some 
fine  old  elms,  grew  on  the  hill  immediately  above  the  house,  and  a  good 
garden  was  laid  out  on  the  slope  before  the  door.  As  a  residence,  it  was 
tastefully  situated,  and  commanded  two  or  three  graceful  sweeps  of  a 
sunlit  river,  on  whose  bank  stood  a  picturesque  ruin.  A  well-wooded 
demesne,  a  cultivated  coimtry,  and  a  range  of  abrupt  mountains,  through 
a  cleft  in  which  a  road  trailed  up,  whose  white  track  was  visible  in  the 
darkness  of  the  mountain  soil,  closed  the  prospect.  Indeed,  from  the 
remarkable  site  of  the  house,  one  would  be  apt  to  suppose  that  it  was 
well  sheltered  from  wind  and  storm ;  the  reverse,  however,  was  the  fact ; 
for,  whenever  the  wind  came  from  the  north-west,  it  divided  itself,  as 
it  were,  behind  the  hill,  ^hich  was  long  and  ridgy,  and  rushed  round 
with  great  violence  until  it  met  again  in  the  cavity  in  which  the  priest's 
house  was  built,  where  the  confluence  of  the  opposing  tides  formed  a 
whirlwind  far  more  destructive  than  the  direct  blast.  Between  one  and 
two  o'clock  the  strength  of  the  storm,  though  startling,  had  nothing  in 
it  to  excite  particular  alarm.  Every  moment,  however,  it  became  more 
violent :  abrupt  and  rapid  gusts,  that  poured  down  from  each  side  of  the 
hill,  swept  round  the  house,  straining  its  rafters  and  collar  beams  until 
they  cracked.  It  soon  became  terrible ; — lights  were  got,  and,  although 
there  was  scarcely  a  crevice  in  the  house,  through  which  a  breath  of  air 
on  an  ordinary  night  could  come,  yet,  so  great  was  the  strength  of  the 
wind,  that  arrowy  blasts  shot  in  every  direction  through  the  rooms, 
with  such  force  as  to  extinguish  the  lights  when  brought  within  their 
range.  Still  it  increased,  and  the  thunder-groans  of  the  tempest  were 
tremendous.  The  night  hitherto  had  not  been  very  dark ;  indeed,  no 
windy  night  is  so ;  but  we  now  perceived  the  darkness  to  increase  most 
rapidly,  until  it  was  utter  and  palpable.  The  straining  of.  the  house  and 
rafters  was  excessive — every  light  body  was  carried  about  like  chaff — 
many  of  the  trees  were  crashed  to  pieces,  and  huge  branches,  reft  from 


Taht  of  Irdtmd.  77 

parent  trunks,  were  borne  away  like  straws,  wherever  the  fury  of 
the  elements  carried  them. 

**  The  night  was  now  pitchy  dark,  though,  for  a  few  minutes  before 
tins,  fearful  lulls  were  noticed,  which  excited  fresh  alarm.  We  could 
now  look  out  through  the  windows,  and  the  dark  confused  air,  in  connec- 
tion with  the  aspect  of  the  sky,  was  really  appalling ; — at  the  verge  of 
the  horizon  the  heavens  were  of  a  lurid  copper  colour,  appearing  as  if 
they  glowed  with  a  fiery  hotness :  this  was  motionless,  whilst  the  massive 
clouds,  from  which  the  lightning  shot  in  every  direction,  sped  rapidly 
in  dark  irregular  piles,  seemingly  to  one  point  of  the  sky.  The  moon 
became  visible  by  glimpses,  and  flew  through  the  heavens  in  the  direc- 
tson  from  which  the  tempest  came,  with  the  speed  of  the  wind." — ^pp. 


The  hurricane  subsides^  but  there  are  other  storms  than  those  of 
1^  rain^  and  thunder.     That  of  fear  or  remorse  is  more  terri- 
ble:— 

*'  '  Open  the  door,'  said  a  voice — *  for  the  sake  of  the  Blessed  Mother^ 
will  you  open  the  door  fast  ? ' 

*'  *  What's  the  matther  ? '  said  one  of  the  servants,  who  was  still  up. 

**  *  Death's  the  matther,'  said  the  man,  entering  quite  out  of  breathe 
*  John  Lynch  is  dyin' — ^and  may  the  Holv  Mother  of  God  have  meicy 
upon  me,  but  you  could  hear  him  skreechm',  clear  an'  clane,  above  the 
wind  and  tundher  an'  all :  Oh  I  Mike,  Mike,  bis  voice  is  still  ringin'  in 
my  ears,  so  sharp,  wild,  an'  unnatural,  bekase  you  see  it  has  the  sound  of 
death  in  it.  '  The  priest ! — the  priest  I '  he  shouts^—*  the  priest — ^bring 
me  Father  Moyle — bring  me  Father  Moyle — ^no  man  but  him  will  do 
me ;' — ^then  forgettin'  that  for  a  minute,  he  goes  on — *•  pray  for  me — ^pray 
for  me — ^will  none  of  yees  pray  for  my  guilty  sowl  ? — Ye  careless  pack, 
won't  yees  offer  up  one  prayer  for  me  ? — ^but,  bring  me  the  priest  first — 
yees  needn't  pray  till  he  comes — ^it  would  be  no  use — ^bring  me  the 
priest,  for  the  sak  of  the  livin'  Mother  I '  May  I  never  commit  another 
sin,  but  his  voice  would  chill  the  marrow  in  your  bones,  or  make  your 
teeth  cranch,  its  so  wild  and  unnatural.'" — p.  10. 

The  old  priest  is  in  bed^  and  so  poorly  and  weak  as  to  be  unable 
to  venture  out,  especially  in  such  a  night :  his  servant  will  not  at 
first  allow  him  to  be  disturbed ;  but  at  last  by  the  most  vehement 
appeals,  and  even  threats  that  the  priest  shall  be  carried  to  the 
dpng  man's  bedside  by  force, — ^for  ^^  who  can  stop  death,  can  ye 
tdl  OB  ?"  and  ''  can  the  man  wait  for  the  morning  ?'' — the  man  of 
God  exerts  himself  and  reaches  the  devotee's  presence.  When 
Father  Moyle  t)ie  priest,  arrives,  the  dying  man  is  calling  out, 
^  Mast  I  die  without  bein'  anointed  or  absolved  ?"  and  his  wife  is 
consoling  him  by  saying,  ^'  sure  you  need  not  feel  so  much  afeard ; 
you  weam't  that. bad  man  at  any  how'; — ^besides  you  have  the 
Coard  of  blessed  St.  Francis,  and  the  holy  scapular  of  the  Mother 
of  God  herself  upon  your  body."  But  at  length  he  addresses  the 
priest : — 

^**  Absolve  me — ^for  the  sake  of  the  Bleissed  Mother,  absolve  me,  I 
my  I'  shrieked  Lynch,  as  he  stretched  out  his  fleshless  arms,  with  the 
BKMt  intense  supplication,  to  the  priest.     '  Let  me  get  absolution,  an'  die.' 


78  l\ak»  cf  ireUmd. 

-  '> 'Itooaifta^«aaer/»epUedtlkepnMt;  'think  not  to  draw 'Oomolaliaii 
from  fne,  I  cannot,  nor  will  I,  mock  the  awful  power  4>f  God  by  tbi 
jjTiiffPfLTiipg  form  of  a  rite,  particularly  when  the  heart  is  dead  to  a 
living  £bu^.' 

'*  *'  Anoint  me,  then*'  ssdid  the  other-*' anoint  ma :  aurely  you  won't 
let  me  die  like  a  heretic  or  a  dog,  without  the  benefit  of  ihoU^  at  laste  ?' 

"  *  I  am  myself,*  re|>lied  the  priest,  *  on  the  brink  of  the  grave,  and  I 
cannot  triAe  either  with  my  salvation  or  your  own.  I  could  not  meet 
my  Redeemer,  if  I  turned  away  your  heart  from  Htm,  in  this  av«f^l 
hour.  TcU  me  that  you  renounce  every  thing,  except  Him  aloxtb,  and  I 
will  then  speak  peace  to  your  aouL' 

'*  *  Sure  I  do  believe  on  my  Redeemer/  replied  the  mao — ^  didn't  I 
always  believe  on  him  ?  I  only  want  absolution.' 

^  *  Hear  me,  you  deluded  man,'  said  the  priest :  '  as  I  shall  sland  be- 
fore the  throne  of  judgment,  and,  aa  God  Uveth,  there  is  none  but  God 
can  g^ve  you  absolution.' 

^  A  murmur  of  surprise  and  disapprobation  at  this  strange  doctrine 
burst  from  all  present;  the  priest  looked  round,  but  he  waa  fmu 

**  *  Heaven  and  earth,  cannot  y<m  do  it?*  aafeed  the  other,  distractedly. 

**  *  No  I'  xepli^  the  priest  soiemnly ;  *  to  forgive  sins  is  the  province 
of  God  demt^  aa  mtt  aa  to  ffive  grace  for  repentance  and  faith.' 

**  *  God  of  heaiven,'  criea  the  other,  in  a  kind  of  impotent  fury,  *  why 
didn't  you  tell  me  this  before  ?' 

«*  The  prieat  gasped  for  breath,  and  only  answered  with  a  g^roon  that 
shoc^  hia  whole  frame. 

**  'Is  there  nohqpe?*  asked  Lynch. 

'« *  Repent,'  said  the  priest-^'  repent  from  the  bottom  of  yeur  heart, 
and  believe  that  Christ  died  for  you,  and  rest  assured,  that,  if  your  sins 
were  ten  thousand  times  greater  than  they  are,  they  can  be  i|iade  whiter 
than  snow.     Can  you,  therefore,  believe  that  Christ  died  for  you  ?' 

**  *  I  can,  I  can,'  said  the  other :  '  didn't  I  always  believe  it  r 

"  A  gleam  of  delight  passed  over  the  priest's  features,  and  he  turned 
up  his  eyes  gratefully  to  heaven.  He  proceeded-*-*  Can  you  believe  that 
nothing  else  but  repentance  and  that  faith  which  I  have  described  are 
able  to  save  you  ?' 

«« '  I  can,  I  can,'  said  the  man ;  *  will  you  absolve  me  now  ?' 

"  '  Do  you  renounce  all  trust  in  this,  and  in  this  ?'  said  Father  Moyle, 
taking  up  the  Coard  of  St.  Francis  and  the  Scapular,  both  of  which  the 
other  had  pressed  to  his  bosom.  The  man  clutched  them  more  closely, 
and  was  silent.    *  Answer  me,'  said  Father  Moyle,  *  ere  it  be  too  late .' 

**  *  Here,'  said  the  man,  *  1  can  give  up  the  Coard  of  St.  Francis ;  but 
—but — is  it  to  g^ve  up  the  Ordher  of  the  Mother  of  God?  No,  no,  I 
couldn't  give  up  thai;  I  dam't  make  her  my  enemy.' 

^  *•  Do  vou  feel  that  a  form  of  absolution,  or  the  application  of  extreme 
unction,  m>m  me,  cannot  pardon  your  sins  ?' 

^  '  Sure  I  know  they  oan^'  replied  the  other*'  "-^H>.  29-^L 

A  more  accommodating  spiritaal  adviser  however  anivea;  lie 
administers  the  last  rites  of  the  church,  and  the  poor  man  dies 
greatly  composed,  clinging  to  his  idols,  his  scapulars  and  his  unc- 
tions, but  refusing  to  ground  all  his  hopes  on  Him  before  whom  he 


7W«l  0/  irekm4'  79 

tt  4d  go  to  be  jadged.     Now  in  «li  Am  there  ss  mithmt  mmvkvah 
aensibilitjr^  nor  proJhne  trifling  with  awful  names  and  themes. 

We  next  have  the  priest's  funeral;  the  dying  of  <dd  Falhor 
Moyle  himself,  whose  conduct  at  poor  Lynch's  death  prepares  us 
to  understand  why  his  brethren  and  his  superiors  are  in  great 
trouble  to  prevent  any  one  but  themselves  to  have  access  to  the 
last  scene  of  one  of  their  order^  whose  opinions  have  taken  such 
a  turn.  This  sketch  gives  any  things  but  a  favourable  picture  of 
the  Catholic  priesthood  pf  Ireland^  and,  if  it  be  a  true  one,  accounts 
for  much  of  the  ignorance  and  fury  of  the  k>wer  orders* 

Th«  third  tale  is  called  Makine,  and  it  is  of  a  humoiQxws  cha- 
racter. Then  comes  the  longest  in  the  volume,  called  the  Brotbefs, 
which  is  meimt  to  exhibit  the  consequenoe  cf  such  ill-assorted 
marriages  as  those  between  Protestants  and  Roman  Catholics. 
Peggy  Graham  is  the  daughter  of  protestant  parents,  and  has  been 
oardblly  educated  for  her  rank  in  life ;  she  elopes,  and  is  married 
to  a  repulsive  cunning  and  heartless  Catholic,  Dan  Gallagher. 

**  In  Ireland,  elopements  of  this  nature  are  never  considered  disgrace- 
ful, although  it  frequently  happens  that  they  are  attended  with  deep  and 
lasting  calamity  to  the  parties  themselves.  It  somedmes  happens,  that 
the  parents  of  the  young  perscws  are  well  aware  of  their  intention  '  to 
nm  away  with  one  another  f  in  general,  however,  the  elopement  mostly 
takes  place  without  either  their  knowledge  or  concurrence.  The  ^- 
langements  usually  made  on  such  oeoasions  are  these  :-^The  yoimg  man 
having  gained  the  consent  of  her  to  whom  he  is  determined  to  unite 
himself,  appoints  the  place  and  hour  of  meeting ;  he  then  goes  to  soma 
friend,  to  whom  he  discloses  the  seoret,  and  a^s  permission  to  bring  her 
to  his  house — a  request  which,  I  believe,  has  never  yet  been  refused; 
this  person  is  either  a  relation  by  blood  or  marriage,  for  the  most  part ; 
thwugh  a  gossip,  or  particular  friend,  is  oiten  solicited  for  the  purpose. 
This  young  man,  having  thus  communicated  his  intention,  sends  a  stock 
of  spirits  to  the  house  of  his  friend,  sufficient  to  entertain  those  whom 
they  may  think  proper  to  ask.  The  latter,  of  course,  meet ;  but  in  cases 
where  there  may  b^  an  apprehension,  that  the  disclosure  of  the  parties' 
ziai^es  about  to  elope  woiUd  reach  their  respective  parents,  the  invited 
Mends  are  left  in  the  dark  upon  this  point.  They  are  informed  that 
such  a  circumstance  is  about  to  take  place,  and  that  it  is  expected  they 
will  attend.  They  accordingly  meet,  and  the  night  is  spent  in  drinking, 
singing,  and  mirth." — ^pp.  158,  159. 

The  marriage  ceremony  is  performed  by  a  Catholic  priest,  and 
is  hastily  arrived  at  through  the  eloquence  of  Harry  Moran,  the 
bridegroom's  confidential  fiiend. 

^  Having  thus  gained  his  point,  he  went  out  once  more,  and,  in  a  few 
minutes,  led  in  a  large  figure  enveloped  in  a  blue  drug|^et  quilt,  which 
entirely  eoncealed  his  person  as  far  as  his  knees,  just  exhibiting  a  pair  of 
ftont  legs,  cased  in  black  gaiters,  which,  probably,  were  left  visible  to 
estabUsh  Us  clerical  character. 

'*  But,  perhaps,  the  most  ludicrous  part  of  his  disguise  was  the  mask 
which  concealed  his  visage.    This  cousisted  of  the  tin  cover  of  a  pot, 


80  Tales  of  Ireland. 

bent  round  his  fiiee,  and  tied  behind  his  neck  with  a  stHng.  Opposite  the 
eyes  were  two  holes,  large  enough  to  enable  this  reverend  masquerader 
to  take  an  accurate  survey  of  every  thing  about  him.  Before  the  mouth 
there  was  a  huge  slit  through  which  he  could  breathe,  speak,  and,  if 
necessary,  contrive  to  swallow  a  little  drink.  His  whole  figure,  which 
was  of  an  enormous  size,  produced  an  irresistibly  ludicrous  e£fect,  as, 
indeed,  it  was  calculated  to  do. 

*** Don't  be  alarmed,  nabours/  exclaimed  Harry;  ''tis  an  honest, 
worthy  gentleman,  that  we  respect;  and  I'll  be  bound  to  say,  that  there's 
not  a  clajgy  in  the  kingdom  can  do  his  work  in  finer  style ;  he's  the  man 
will  tie  the  knot  that  nothing  but  death  can  loose;  but  the  law's  danger- 
ous to  make  or  meddle  with,  and  it's  no  harm»  sometimes,  to  be  too  many 
for  it.' 

<*  Gallagber  and  Peggy  were  then  called  forward  by  Harry,  together 
with  another  young  woman,  who  was  to  act  as  bride's  maid ;  the  bride- 
groom, as  we  may  now  call  him,  selected  an  acquaintance,  as  his  man, 
upon  the  occasion,  and  Harry  himself  undertook  the  office  of  giving 
away  the  bride.  Every  thing  being  thus  arranged,  the  worthy  in  the 
mask  commenced  the  ceremony,  and,  in  a  few  minutes,  they  were  united. 

"  No  sooner  was  the  marriage  over,  than  Molly  and  her  two  maids 
set  to  work  with  such  vigour,  that  the  tables,  already  placed  for  the 
supper,  were  soon  covered  with  beef,  bacon,  and  fowls  in  abundance, 
for  the  fare  was  given  with  a  truly  Irish  heart.  The  reverend  mask  did 
not  take  the  chair  upon  this  memorable  night,  but  he  took  a  respectful 
share  of  the  viands  which  were  placed  before  him,  eating  and  drinking 
through  the  tin  veil,  with  a  perseverance  and  effect  worthy  of  an  alder- 
man.  Now,  let  not  the  fastidious  reader  conclude,  that  this  is  a  fiction ; 
for,  I  can  assure  him  that  ceremonies  of  this  nature  have  frequently 
taken  place  at  intermarriages  between  Catholics  and  Protestants,  nor  are 
they  yet  wholly  abolished." — ^pp.  166—167. 

The  heartless  husband  labours  for  years  to  convert  his  Protestant 
wife,  urged  and  backed  by  his  priest,  Father  Domeen.  They  have 
two  sons  ;  Ned,  the  elder,  is  of  his  father's  faith,  ignorant,  illiterate, 
and  worthless  ;  Tom,  the  younger,  is  every  way  the  reverse,  hav- 
ing profited  greatly  through  a  mother's  excellent  example.  He  is 
eighteen  years  of  age,  and  has,  without  his  father's  knowledge,  and 
mother's  too,  entered  himself  at  the  University  of  DubUn,  having 
privately  qucdified  himself  for  that  purpose.  Things  between  hus- 
band and  wife  are  thus  brought  to  a  cUmax. 

"  The  fact  is,  that  in  almost  every  intermarriage,  where  the  wife  is  a 
Protestant,  there  is  most  commonly  a  surrender,  on  the  part  of  the 
husband,  of  personal  independance,  and  of  that  delicacy  which  is  due  to 
the  feelings  and  privileges  of  a  wife  and  mother.  What  man,  what 
husband,  possessing  feeling  or  afifection  for  his  wife,  would  permit  her  to 
become  a  butt  for  the  insolence  and  ignorance  of  a  bigotted  and  illiterate 
priest  ?  Yet  so  it  happens,  and  ever  will  happen,  until  the  grappling 
irons  of  this  power  are  broken,  and  our  peasantry  taught  to  think  and  act 
like  men  whom  God  has  formed  for  nobler  ends  than  to  be  the  contented 
slaves  of  a  subtle  and  ambitious  class,  who  hang  upon  every  religious  and 
political  movement  among  nations,  to  watch  those  moments  in  which  they 
may  confirm  their  authority  over  mankind. 


Tales  of  Irelani.  81 

"  The  appearance  of  this  broken-hearted  woman,  would  have  mdited 
the  soul  of  any  man  but  a  dark  and  unfeeling  bigot.  So  long  had  ^e 
been  accustomed  to  habits  of  passive  and  unresisting  obedience  to  this 
slave — ^who,  unhappily,  was  invested  with  a  husband's  authority  over  her 
— that  in  every  thing,  but  the  abandonment  of  her  religious  faith,  she 
obeyed  him,  as  a  child  would  crouch  under  the  brow  of  a  tyrant  master  in 
a  village  school.  And,  perhaps,  it  was  the  exhibition  of  this  broken  spirit 
on  her  part,  that  induced  the  priest  and  her  husband  to  hope,  that,  by 
increasing  her  load  of  misery,  in  proportion  to  her  declining  strength, 
they  might  ultimately  succeed  in  changing  her  religious  opinions." — 
pp.  205,  206. 

She  is  called  to  be  sifted  respecting  her  son's  decided  step^  be- 
fore husband  and  priest,  and  his  entrance  at  the  University. 

"  Aware  of  the  presence  of  Father  Domeen,  and  of  her  husband's 
express  determination  to  turn  her  out  of  doors,  if  she  would  not  strain 
her  judgment  to  believe  what  it  condemned — she  betrayed  a  sense  of 
apprehension  and  nervous  excitement,  produced  by  Grallagher's  habits  of 
reproof  and  her  weak  health.  This,  however,  was  subdued  by  a  serene 
confidence  which  beamed  from  her  eye,  notwithstanding  the  fitful  alterna- 
tion of  pale  and  red  upon  her  cheek. 

"  Father  Domeen,  without  rising,  motioned  her  to  a  chair,  which  she 
took  with  as  much  humility  as  if  she  had  not  been  in  her  own  house.  ' 

" '  Hem — ^hem — this  is  a  beautiful  day  for  the  harvest,  Mrs.  Grallagher. 
Hem!' 

"  '  The  weather  is  excellent,  indeed.  Father  Domeen  ;  if  it  continues, 
there  is  every  hope  of  the  crops  being  abundant.' 

** '  Your  remark,  ma'am,  is  perfectly  correct ;  very  much  so,  indeed — 
hem.  It  is  also  good  travelling  weather,  ma*am,"  (a  wink  at  Gallagher,) 
"  excellent  weather  for  travelling — ^hem !  * 

" '  Is  it  not  rather  hot.  Sir  ? ' 

"  Eh  ? — ^rather — ^rather  hot  ?  Why,  upon  my  credibility,  it  is,  except 
to  those  who  travel  on  the  out — ^inside,  1  mean,  of  the  coach ;  still,  with 
a  good  worsted  comforter,  and  two  or  three  great  coats,  to  keep  out  the 
sun,  it's  not  bad  travelling  weather  for  all  that — ^hem !'  (another  wink  at 
Gallagher.) 

*'  *  Mrs.  Gallagher  made  no  reply. 

" '  How  did  Mr.  Thomas  travel,  Mrs.  Gallagher  ?  did  he  go  by  coach, 
ma'am  ? ' 

"  '  By  coach  !  Is  it  to  my  fathers  ? "  she  inquired ;  for  GhJlagher  had 
prevented  both  her  and  her  children  from  bestowing,  on  their  maternal 
relations,  those  epithets  which  express  the  degrees  of  consanguinity. 
''  You  know.  Sir,  that  no  coach  runs  in  this  part  of  the  country,  much 
less  betwixt  this  and Mulaghmore. '" — ^pp.  207,  208. 

She  is  greatly  struck  on  learning  that  her  excellent  son  is  not  at 
her  father's,  but  in  Dublin. 

"  She  exhibited  great  agitation,  and  her  hand  trembled  so  much  that 
she  could  scarcely  read  the  letter.  On  closing  it,  she  looked  mournfully 
at  her  husband,  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears.  '  Poor  boy,'  said  she,  'he 
has  preferred  shaping  his  own  course  in  life,  to  the  lot  of  bitterness  and 
sorrow  which  he  was  compelled  to  suffer  under  his  father's  roof.  You, 
Father  Domeen,  are  acquainted  with  the  secrets  of  our  family,  aad  can 

VOL.  III.    (1834.)   NO.  I  Q 


82  Taies  of  Irelend. 

bear  witness  to  the  trudi  of  what  I  say.  His  fate  h^re — meek  and  dncom- 
plaining  as  he  was — oh!  Daniel,  Daniel,  you  know  that  fate  was  hard,  and 
his  treatment  harsh — my  dear  child! — ^yet  you  know,  too,  that  to  none 
living  did  he  ever  utter  a  complaint — never — ^he  bore  all  without  a  murmer, 
for  he  loved  the  hand  that  was  ever  up  in  enmity  agunst  him,  because  that 
hand  was  his  father's.  He  is  now,  however/  she  continued,  wiping  away 
the  tears  that  flowed  profusely,  *he  is  now  dead  to  us;  and  I — ^I — ^have 
lost  my  best  friend  and  companion,  whose  affectionate  hand  was  ever  ready 
to  wipe  away  the  tears  from  my  eyes/  She  wept  bitterly." — ^pp.  209 — 
210. 

Her  husband  is  persuaded  that  she  had  no  hand  m  their  son's 
decided  step  ;  but  he  could  not  allow  himself  to  let  slip  the  oppor- 
tunity of  enforcing  the  great  object  of  his  heart  respecting  her,  that 
of  proselytism. 

"'Well,  well,'  observed  Ghdlaghar,  'it's  of  no  use  to  be  makin'  any 
furtlier  inquiries  about  that ;  I  believe  she  knew  nothin'  of  it ;  but  now 
that  you  and  she.  Father  Domeen,  are  both  to  the  fore,  I  wish,  once  for 
all,  to  settle  whether  she  and  I  are  to  live  together  in  future,  or  not ;  that's 
the  point,  darlin',  I'm  comin'  to ;  you  knoW  I've  tould  you,  for  many  a  long 
year,  that  except  you'd  give  in,  it  would  end  this  way.' 

*'  The  poor  heart-broken  creature  gave  a  look  of  entreaty  and  depre- 
cation at  her  husband,  which  ought  to  have  touched  any  human  heart ; 
she  remained  silent,  however,  with  a  strong  expression  of  timidity,  if  not 
of  terror,  on  her  countenance. 

"  'We  are  both  for  your  good,  Mrs.  Gallagher,'  observed  the  priest, 

'  small  blame  to  any  man  for  not  wishing  to  see  his  wife  damn that  is» 

lost  eternally.' 

"  'You  must  answer  me  now,  for  the  last  time,'  said  the  husband ;  '  can 
you,  or  will  you  consent  to  become  a  Roman  Catholic,  and  go  to  your 
duties,  as  I  do  ? ' 

"  At  this  moment  her  physical  weakness  was  excessively  great ;  she  saw 
the  crisis  was  arrived — ^but  she  reflected  that  by  remaining  with  her  hus- 
band, she  might  eventually  gain  some  salutary  influence  over  her  other 
son,  whose  abandoned  life  gave  greater  poignancy  to  her  affliction.  To 
go  to  her  father's  would  have  been,  in  itself,  desirable ;  but  the  strength 
of  Christian  duty  and  maternal  aflfection,  inclined  her  to  remain  near  this 
unfortunate  young  man.  This  consideration  increased  the  difficulties  of 
her  trial,  and  she  sat  for  a  few  minutes,  pale,  and  incapable  of  getting  a 
word  to  her  lips. 

^' 'Mrs.  Gbllfi^her,'  sidd  the  priest,  giving  the  matter  a  new  turn,  *'  why 
woidd  you  hesitate,  ma'am — sure,  for  that  matter,  there's  not  so  much 
difference  between  the  two  religions,  at  all,  at  all — ^not  worth  thinking 
about ; '  and  he  winked  again  at  the  husband. 

**  *Give  us  an  answer/  said  the  husband ;  '  it  is  now  or  never  with  you; 
the  consequence  is  before  you — never  to  sleep  another  night  under  this 
roof.' 

"  Her  tears  were  now  dried  up,  but  her  lips  were  parched,  though  a 
slight  dewy  perspiration  broke  from  her  temples,  which  she  wiped  feebly. 

"  'Speak  out,  ma'am.'  said  the  priest,  '  speak  out,  and  may  God  give 
you  a  good  resolution.' 


Tales  of  Irelana.  63 

« 

"  •  If,  Dan/  she  replied,  *  1  am  not  to  remnin  here  except  I  become  a 
Roman  Catholic,  my  resolution  is  made ;  and  I  must  leave  you,  since  you 
will  have  it  so.  It  is  a  point  between  God  and  me,  in  which  his  written 
Word  is  my  gnide.  I  am  willing  to  go,  for  I  cannot  do  that,  to  oblige 
man,  which  my  conscience  condemns — excuse  me — I  am  not  able  to 
speak — ^I  ain  very  weak." — ^pp.  211 — 213. 

The  priest  and  her  husband  retired  for  a  little,  the  former  to 
spur  the  latter  on  to  a  more  decided  exercise  of  authority,  per- 
ceiving that  he  was  about  to  fail  in  such  a  trial.  Gi^agher  thus 
urged,  orders  the  cay  to  be  got  ready  to  carry  her  hence. 

"  '  You  must  go  now,'  said  he,  when  he  had  re-entered  the  room  in 
which 'she  sat,  '  I  haive  ordered  the  car-^in  the  course  of  to-morrow,  every 
thing  belonging  to  you  will  be  seat  to  your  father's.' 

"  She  rose  up  meekly  -^nd  submissively,  and  prepared  herself  for  de- 
parture. On  eoUeoting  a  few  things,  she  met  a  little  book,  which  she 
took  in  her  hand  and  gazed  on  for  a  short  time — she  kissed  it,  and  put  it 
in  hpt  bosom.  It  was  a  small  collection  of  poetry^  which  she  and  her  son 
Thomas  used  to  read  together,  in  the  absence  of  die  father  and  Ned. 

"  She  then  came  down  with  a  little  bundle  in  her  hand,  and  entered  the 
parlour,  to  bid  farewell  to  her  husband. 

"  *  I  cannot  part  from  you,  in  anger,'  said  she ;  but  her  feelings  over- 
came her,  and  she  could  utter  no  more.  She  extended  her  hand  to  him, 
and  from  an  impulse  of  some  feeling  that  was  new  to  him,  he  took  it 
Undly — she  looked  at  him  doubtingly,  like  a  child,  as  if  afraid  of  taking 
the  liberty-'4Mit  he  understood  her,  and  received  the  kiss  which  she 
offered  him. 

"  'Farewell,  Margaret,'  said  he,  '  I  would  save  you  if  I  could — God, 
who  is  in  heaven,  sees  my  heart,  I  would.' 

"  She  then  bid  Father  Domeen  farewell,  and  departed. 

"  When  the  car  drove  from  the  door,  Gallagher  went  to  the  window, 
and  kept  Bis  eyes  fixed  upon  her  form,  until  it  was  near  reaching  an  angle, 
that  would  have  taken  her  out  of  sight — she  turned  about  on  arriving  at 
it,  and  looked  in  the  direction  where  he  stood,  until  she  disappeared ;  and 
immediately  he  threw  himself  into  a  chair,  put  his  hands  upon  his  face,  and 
groaned  and  wept  aloud." — ^pp.  214 — ^215. 

Reckless  Ned,  the  eldest  son,  comes  in  and  finds  his  father  and 
the  priest  together,  the  former  sadly  agitated. 

"  '  What's  this  ?'  said  he,  '  what  ails  you,  father  ? — in  the  name  of  all 
that's  beautiful  it  is  cryin'  you  are?  whafs  the  matther?  eh.  Father 
Domeen?' 

"  *  Your  mother's  gone  from  us,  Ned !  \  replied  the  father,  '  I  sent  her 
away  at  last.' 

"  Ned  said  not  a  word  to  his  father ;  but  instantly  turning  on  his  heel — 
'Come,'  said  he,  to  the  priest,  'come,  you  intherlopin'  ould  sinner — 
march — out  of  the  house  with  you — clear  off — here,  Phadrick  Dalton,  get 
this  ould  sinner's  horse,  Father  Domeen's, — come  now,  you  common  dis- 
turber you — that's  good  for  nothin'  only  sowin'  dissention  among  families 
— off  you  go,  out  of  this ;  and  by  the  contents  of  the  primer,  if  ever  you 
show  your  nose  in  this  house  again,  I'll  read  you  out  from  the  althar,  as 
you  say  yourself; — ^you've  been  afther  poor  Tom,  because  you  thought  he 

g2 


B4  Taha  of  Ireland. 

was  a  Protestant,  or  likely  to  be  one — and  the  same  way  with  my  mother, 
till  the  life's  worn  out  of  her ;  but  myself  that's  more  than  half-¥ray  gone 
to  the  devil—- <iid  ever  you  trouble  yourself  about  me  ? — here  now,  there's 
your  horse— mount  him  and  show  us  your  horsemanship ; — ^in  the  mean 
tame,  with  the  blessin'  of  all  the  Saints,  male  an'  faymale,  my  mother  will 
sleep  undher  this  same  roof,  this  same  night  that's  in  it-«-an'  out  they  go 
that  will  say  agin  it,  father  or  priest,  I  don't  care  a  rush  which." — pp.  216 
—217. 

A  good  deal  of  low  abuse  parses  between  the  priest  and  Ned^  the 
latter  threatening  to  die  a  notestant  to  vex  the  spiritual  adviser^ 
is  good^  and  like  the  character  that  utters  the  idea.  The  priest, 
however,  has  to  depart  unceremoniously,  and  next  the  son  makeB 
good  his  point  with  the  father,  who  was  now  the  slave  of  this  spoiled 
child,  that  exacted  as  a  right  what  had  at  first  been  conceded  to  him 
from  indulgence.  After  this  he  deepens  in  crime  and  profligacy ; 
the  father  relapses  into  his  former  manner  towards  his  wife,  becomes 
a  drinker,  and  lifts  his  hand  against  her,  whilst  all  her  earthly  con- 
solation lays  in  sometimes  meeting  at  her  father's  her  younger  and 
worthy  son,  who  finishes  his  studies  at  college,  and  succeeds  in  ob- 
taining a  curacy  about  fifteen  miles  from  his  native  home.  Ned  is 
imprisoned  on  a  capital  charge,  where  the  mother,  in  a  dying  state, 
visits  him  along  with  the  young  curate.  The  &ther  joins  Uie  sor- 
rowful group,  and  at  last  craves  his  worthy  son's  pardon  for  much 
bad  usage  f^m  his  hand.  His  obstinacy  and  harshness  break 
down. 

"  Mrs.  GFallagher  was  scarcely  able  to  articulate,  but  the  sons  endea- 
voured to  compose  him,  *  Keep  away  from  me,  childer,'  he  exclaimed, 
'  keep  from  me.  I  destroyed  not  her  alone,  but  all  of  you.  Ned,  I'm  your 
murderer,  as  well  as  her's — I  am — and  you^  my  poor  Tom,  dear  knows 
what  hardship  and  distress  you  suffered  among  strangers,  fightin'  your  way 
alone,  and  without  help,  through  the  world.  Yes,  Ned  darlin',  I  am  your 
destroyer.  Had  I  given  you  proper  education,  and  not  backed  you  in  all 
your  folly,  an'  encouraged  an'  egged  you  on  as  I  did,  you  wouldn't  now 
be  as  you  are — but — but — I'm  punished — ^I'm  payin'  for  all,  though  I 
deserve  it  all.  What's  this — ^tiiere's  something  comin'  over  me — the 
room's  goin'  round — I'm  fallin' ! ' 

"  Ere  he  fell,  howeyer,  his  children  caught  him ;  and  on  bringing  him 
over  to  the  sofa,  he  appeared  insensible. 

"  My  dear  Mother,'  said  Thomas,  '  I  fear  this  scene  will  be  too  much 
for  you.' 

"  •  No,  my  dear,'  she  replied,  '  believe  me  I  am  happier  than  I  have 
been  for  a  long  time.  I  see  sorrow,  bitter  sorrow,  and  repentance  towards 
me — and  if,  before  I  go,  I  could  witness  the  same  compunction  in  their 
hearts  towards  God,  I  could  close  my  life  with  perfect  happiness.  Thank 
God;  blessed  be  God,  he  is  recovering.'  As  she  spoke,  GFallagher 
breathed ;  and  in  a  few  minutes  was  able  to  overcome  the  paroxysm  which 
the  highly- wrought  state  of  his  feelings  had  brought  on  him. 

"  Thomas  now  became  the  comforter ;  and  though  without  experience 
in  scenes  so  trying  as  this,  delivered  a  short  andfeeluig  exhortation  w^'"' 


Tale$  of  Ireland.  85 

Booceeded  in  Bootliing  them  very  much.  Mrs.  Ofdla^ier  then  gave  her 
last  parting  advice  and  blessing  to  her  unhappy  son,  who  was  absolutely 
torn  away  from  her. 

'*  *  Belmye/  said  he ;  '  stay  from  me — ^isn't  it  the  last  time  ? — ^let  me  go 
to  her — I  will,  I  must  go  to  her — oh!  mother,  will  you  leave  me  ? — make 
them  let  me  go  to  you  only  for  a  minute,  sure  I  only  mane  it  once,  till  I 
ax  her  blessing,  and  hear  it  from  her  own  blessed  lips  agin — let  me  loss 
her  then,  and  get  the  blessing,  as  I  said,  the  last  time  for  ever.  O !  blessed 
Mother!  is  she  gone — ^gone — gone,  and  am  I  never  to  see  her  more? 
Well,  now  I'll  go,  and  t£en  for  the  dhrink,  the  dhrink,  boys,  the  dhrink ! 
Nulty  and  Bredin,  where  are  yees  ?  Get  me  the  bottle,  for  the  sake  of 
heaven  above  me,  get  me  the  bottle.'  Alas!  it  is  distressing  to  go  on  with 
the  narrative.  That  night  he  was  carried  to  his  bed  in  a  state  of  helpless 
intoxication,  nor  did  he  affcerwardr  permit  himself  to  know  a  moment's 
sobriety,  maugre  the  entreaties,  and  solicitations,  of  father,  brother,  or 
priest.  *  You  have  two  choices,'  said  he,  *  it's  useless  tormenting  me ;  I 
will  either  dhrink  or  put  an  end  to  myself." — ^pp.  250 — 252. 

The  mother  lived  till  the  day  of  Ned's  trial;  he  was  condemned 
and  executed^  and  buried  in  the  same  grave  with  her.  The  father 
some  weeks  afterwards  was  struck  by  paralysis,  and  died  in  his 
younger  son*s  arms,  who  of  course  lived  and  prospered. 

Such  is  a  slight  sketch  of  The  Brothers,  a  tale  intended  to  ex- 
pose the  unrelenting  spirit  and  disastrous  consequences  of  prosely- 
tism.  That  such  domestic  calamities  and  scenes  are  to  be  met 
with  as  here  described  cannot  be  denied ;  but  we  doubt  the  good 
derived  from  such  a  mode  of  exposing  and  reproving  the  evil  re- 
fierred  to. 

'  The  story  is  a  fiction ;  the  person  who  concocts  it  feels  strongly 
on  one  side,  and  naturally  places  persons  and  events  just  as  suits 
the  view  started  with.  Those  of  the  same  way  of  thinking  with 
the  author  are  strengthened  in  their  hostUity,  and  so  are  they  who 
are  the  objects  of  exposure,  because  they  cannot  and  will  not  per- 
ceive the  fidelity  of  the  representation.  Facts  and  real  occurrences 
cannot  be  gainsaid,  but  it  is  easy  to  sneer  away  any  fabled  com- 
bination of  circumstances.  The  tale,  however,  is  carefully  and 
powerfully  carried  on,  and  gives  an  affecting  domestic  picture.  The 
ruin  that  overtakes  Ned,  the  eldest  son,  is  more  sorrowful  than  the 
breaking  of  the  heavenly-minded  mother's  heart ;  for  he  possessed 
the  materials  that  might  have  been  turned  to  noble  ends,  and  amid 
all  his  madness  in  folly  and  vice,  exhibited  strong  features  of  na- 
tural mental  strength. 

We  have  not  room  to  go  into  the  other  tales ;  ^'  The  Illicit  Dis- 
tiller, T"  **he  Dream  of  the  Broken  Heart,"  and  "  Lachlin  Murray 
and  the  Blessed  Candle."  The  two  first  are,  as  their  titles  in- 
timate of  »  senoos  kind :  the  last  full  of  superstition  and  religious 
bigotry.  Lachlin  was  a  weaver,  simple  minded,  and  unable  to 
read ;  but  full  of  all  the  wondrous  miracles  accompUshed  by  the 
Saints.  But  the  more  devout  he  grew,  the  slower  did  the  weaving 
business  get  on,  till  at  length  the  meal  barrel  got  empty.     He, 


86  Tale9  of  Ireland. 

however^  had  heard^  that  by  dint  of  prayer  and  other  religions 
exercises j full  barrels  might  be  miraculouslyfilled.  Accordingly, when 
meal  no  longer  was  left  him,  one  morning  he  ordered  his  mother  to 
put  down  the  pot,  with  as  much  water  in  it  as  would  make  them  a 
sufficient  mess : — 

"  The  pot  was,  therefore,  put  do-^n.  Lachlin  '  went  to  his  knees/  and 
commenced  a  most  meal- seeking  rosary  to  the  blessed  Vir^.  Fervently 
did  he  pray  for  some  time— -and  what  was  best  of  all,  his  appetite  inqreased 
with  bis  zeal — until  he  tb ought  there  ought  to  be,  in  all  reason,  at  least  a 
hundred  weight  of  meal  in  the  barrel.  At  length,  he  thought  it  time  ta 
inquire:  'Mother,  darling,'  said  he,  'will  you  thry  the  barrel?  there 
ought  to  be  a  decent  cast  in  it  by  this — I  have  prayed,  tooth  an'  nail,  for 
the  last  half  hour — how  does  it  stand,  jewel  ?' 

" '  Why,  blessed  be  her  name,  Lachlin,  avoumeen,  bad  scran  to  the 
dust's  to  be  had  for  love  or  money;  not  as  much  as  would  make  gruel  for 
a  mouse  in  a  conswimption — an*  the  pot's  boilin*  up  cleverly — who  did  you 
pray  to,  Lachlin,  a-lannah  ?' 

"  '  To  the  blessed  Vii-^n,  in  coorse,  mother-^is  there  never  a  dust  at  all 
at  all?* 

"  'To  be  sure,  darlin',  isn't  here  the  bottom,  clear  an'  dane  before  me— 
but  no  male,  Lachlin — an'  the  pot,  as  I  sed,  goin'  mad — Tiachlin,  a  hagnr, 
as  SHE  has  failed  you  this  bout,  hadn't  you  bettherthry  St.  Paidhrick?' 

"  He  sighed,  and  cast  a  melancholy  glance  at  the  pot,  and  commenced 
once  more  with  renewed  vigour.  A  second  rosary  was  offered  up,  toge- 
ther with  two  or  three  ornamental  prayers,  which  he  added  to  make  it 
more  effectual  and  complete.  When  these  were  concluded,  he  called  upon 
the  mother  a  second  time : 

"  'Mother,  wiU  you  give  the  smallest  taste  of  a  peep  into  the  barrel?' 
The  mother  complied.  '  Well,  mother — ^well  ?  Is  there  any  thing  besides 
the  bottom?* 

"  '  Full  it  is,  Lachlm,  of * 

•"Eh!  full — I  know'd  it — ^glorhia  wurrah! — ^I  know'd  it — I  knoVd 
whin  I  threw  in  the  last  three  pmyers,  as  a  dimrah*,  that  I'd  get  it.' 

*' '  — Asy,  Lachlin,  avoumeen,  'tis  full  of  emptiness  it  is — dane  aa'< 
clear  is  the  bottom  of  it  before  my  eyes  here,  without  as  much  as  you'd 
blow  off  a  sixpence  on  it." — ^pp.  339—341. 

We  extract  this  passage  merely  to  shew  what  we  bdieve  is  too 
often  not  an  overcharged  scene  among  the  most  illiterate  of  the  Irish 
peasantry.  It  is  a  lamentable  picture,  and  without  pretending  to 
point  out  the  best  means  of  rectifying  such  deplorable  evils,  we  may 
predict,  that  such  a  people  will  ever  be  an  inflammable  stock  for 
agitators  to  work  on.  But  this  is-  a  point  not  suitably  to  be  dis- 
cussed here,  and  we  therefore  dismiss  these  tales,  with  a  hearty 
approval  of  the  talent  and*  execution  of  the  author,  though  we  can- 
not anticipate  much  practical  good  of  the  kind  contemplated  to  re- 
sult from  them.  The  plates  are  striking,  and  partake,  like  the  work 
itself,  of  the  laughable  and  the  serious ;  the  latter  predominating. 
And  such,  with  all  its  raciness,  is  Irish  life. 

*  A  dhumh  ia  an  additional  qaantifcy  thrown  in  at  the  purchase  of  potatoes,  meal,  hay, 
&c.,  to  carry  luck  with  it,  and  to  make  certain  that  the  measure  is  complete. 


87 


Art.  VII.— I .  TTie  Works  of  Robert  Bums ;  with  his  Life.  By  Allan  Cun>- 

ningham.  Eight  vols.  8vo.  London :  Cockrane  k  M'Crone.  1834. 
2.  I%e  Life  atd  Poetical  Works  of  the  Rev.  George  Crabhe.    Eight  vols. 

Small  8vo.  By  his  Son.  London «  Murray.  1834. 
It  is  not  an  easy  mattar  to  write  the  life  of  a  man  of  genius,  nor 
witii  a  perfect  understanding  and  due  nicety  to  judge  of  his  works. 
The  office  requires  not  mraely  a  general  accomplishmrat  of  mind, 
but  a  kindred  perception  and  sympathy.  Besides,  if  the  subject  oS 
Wography,  and  his  productions  have  long  be«i  faniliar  to  us,  and 
adinir^  to  the  highest  pitch,  it  becomes  doubly  difficult  to  meet  the 
expectations  and  demands  that  aie  thereby  to  be  met,  and  fuffiUed, 
er^reaping  any  thing  Uke  the  propo^rewards  of  fiuthfiilness.  Robert 
Bunwand  his  works  impose  all  these  difficulties,  and,  at  the  very 
outset,  stare  the  writer  in  the  fece,  who  would  wish  to  place  them 
in  a  truer  and  fresher  Hght,  than  what  they  seemed  to  possess  from 
former  eflforts  of  representation.  It  is  difficult,  it  is,  perhaps,  as  im- 
Dossible  to  come  up  to  our  expectations  and  desires  respecting  this 
^t  poet,  as  it  is  in  the  case  of  Shakspeare,  at  least,  they  stand  in 
OTe  r^pect  m  the  same  relation  to  us ;  each  ofthem  being  essentiaUv 
the  child  and  poet  of  nature ;  each  of  them  being  fdt  and  understood, 
in  many  of  their  works,  by  every  human  heart,  and  with  a  degree  of 
deamesB  and  intensity,  that  defies  words  to  equal  and  describe. 
Hence  it  is,  that  we  are  never  satisfied  with  any  thmg  that  purports 
to  exhibit  to  us  the  whole  length  and  breadth  of  such  a  genws  as 
anv  of  these  two  poets  was.  We  fed  always,  as  if  sometlung  were 
wMiting:  we  would  fain  get  a  step  higher  or  deeper,  and  though 
much  rfeased,  and  unable  to  point  out  what  is  wrong  or  a-wantmg, 
the  seCTot  feeling  is,  that '  this  is  not  yet  the  thing  . 

Perhaps  in  no  mstance  is  this  longmg  and  disappomtment  more 
g«i€ral  than  in  regard  to  Bums,  the  poet,  who  m  every  part  of  his 
works  must  be  fdt  by  the  learned  and  unlearned  ahke.  Cume  and 
Walker  did  much:  Lockhart  has  done  more  for  the  Ayrshire  bard; 
and  now  we  have  a  poet,  of  kindred  country,  rank  m  If,  taste  and 
knowledge,  addressing  himsdf  to  the  duty  which  we  fdt  has  not 
before  b^  perfectiy  performed ;  and  who,  though  he  may  throw  a 
n^ight  J^  th^  old  materials,  «  and  inform  them  with  fresh 

spirit  audse&ent,"  wiU,  we  are  P*^'^^^^ '^t*',,'^',^^!*  "^X 
wme  degree  unsatisfied.  For  who  can  behold  on  all  sides  the  hght 
of  a  luiMiary.  One  thing  is  clear,  that  no  man  could  approach  the 
subiect  of  the  volumes  before  us  with  a  finer  modesty,  and  a  greater 
hJdJSy  it  is  «  with  something  of  hope  and  fear  "  that  AUan  Cun- 
ningbSa,  the  poet,  whom  Bums  would  have  been  proud  to  Imve 
3S^  withVvery  day  of  his  life,  offers  this  work  to  his  coun^: 
STTwith  exemplary  candour  and  accuracy,  that  he  follows  the 
illustrious  peasant  through  aU  his  meteor-hke  course. 

oSTuslLs,  however,  is  to  foUow  the  biographer  and  critic  in 


88  Bunu'  and  Crabbers  Poetry. 

these  volames :  first  in  his  delineation  of  the  poets  life^  and  seoondlvy 
in  his  notices  of  the  new  pieces,  which  were  not  before  maae 
public. 

Robert  Bums  was  the  eldest  son  of  William  Bumess  and  Agnea 
Brown,  his  wife.     He  was  bom  on  the  25th  of  January,  1759,  in  a 
clay-built  cottage,  raised  by  his  father's  own  hands,  on  the  "banks 
of  the  Doon,  in  the  district  of  Kyle,  and  county  of  Ayr.    The  sea- 
son was  boisterous,  the  tenement  frail ;  and  some  days  after  his  birth 
it  was  crushed :  but  he  was  carried  unharmed  to  a  neighbouring 
abode.     He  was  wont  to  claim  ironically  some  commiseration  for 
his  stormy  passions  from  being  ushered  thus  into  the  world.     The 
cottage  was  rebuilt,  and  is  visited  by  thousands  annually,  who  repair 
to  Ayrshire,  chiefly  through  the  attraction  of  his  name  and  birth- 
place.    It  is  now  an  alehouse,  as  the  biographer  says,  but  such 
houses  in  Scotland  have  wine  and  spirits  of  all  kinds  at  command. 
The  landlord,  quite  a  boniface,  patronises  whisky,  but  brandy  rather, 
if  he  can  persuade  his  customers  to  call  for  it.    What  are  called 
provincially '^whisky  blossoms"  are  ripe  upon  his  nose,  and  we 
remember,  when  questioning  him,  respecting  the  convivial  propen- 
sities of  his  former  acquaintance.  Bums,  to  have  been  told,  "  he 
was  a  noble  chiel%  and  as  to  drinking  sic  another  as  mysel',  but 
ne'er  a  drunkard."    The  neighbouring  scenery  is  beautiful,  and 
rich  in  all  the  features  that  can  adorn  a  sceiie.    The  biographer 
says  there  is  nothing  verypicturesque  about  the  cottage.    We  rather 
give  it  as  our  opinion,  that  it  is  singularly  so,  now  a  days,  if  fine 
inclosures,  well  cultivated,  surrounded  with  sprightly  trees,  varied 
at  a  few  hundred  yards  distance,  by. natural  wood  clothing  the 
banks  of  the  gallant  Doon,  can  be  admitted  as  proper  features; 
modem  villas,  antique  mansions,  and  rustic  dwellings,  every  where 
intermingling  with  the  Carrick  hills  as  a  back-ground,  and  the  sea 
so  near,  that  its  wail  or  roar  is  heard. 

Bum's  mother  was  a  native  of  Ayrshire,  and  though  neither 
highborn,  nor  celebrated  for  beauty,  possessed  what  heraldry  cannot 
give,  a  happy  disposition,  healthy  aomestic  virtues,  clear  intelli- 
gence, and  deep  religious  feeling.  Her  son  resembled  her,  and  she 
lived  till  lately,  partaking  of  the  fruits  of  his  genius.  His  father 
was  from  Kincardineshire,  but  left  his  native  place,  with  a  small 
knowledge  of  farming,  and  a  large  stock  of  speculative  theology,  at 
the  age  of  nineteen.  His  resting  place  was  Doonside,  where  he  at 
length  took  a  wife,  and  built  the  frail  shealing  already  spoken  of. 
He  afterwards  leased  a  farm  close  by,  which,  after  a  stmggle,  he 
was  obliged  to  relinquish,  in  a  great  measure  through  a  ^^  stem 
fitctor,"  whose  infamy  has  been  thus  purchased  in  the  ^'  Twa  dogs." 
William  Bumess  accordingly  removed  to  Lochlea,  a  larger  and 
better  farm,  some  ten  miles  off,  in  the  parish  of  Tarbolton. 

*'  Hei-e  he  seemed  at  once  to  strike  root  and  prosper.  He  was  still 
strong  in  body,  ardent  in  mind,  and  unsubdued  in  spirit.  Every  day,  too, 
was  bringing  vigour  to  his  sons,  who,  though  mere  boys,  took  more 


Bunu^  €md  Crubbe*9  Poetry.  89 

than  their  ptoper  share  of  toil ;  while  his  wife  superintended,  with  care 
and  success,  the  whole  system  of  in-door  economy.  But  it  seemed  as  if 
fortune  had  determined  that  nought  he  set  his  heart  on  should  prosper. 
For  four  years,  indeed,  seasons  were  favourahle,  and  markets  good ;  but 
in  the  fifth  year,  there  ensued  a  change.  It  was  in  vain  that  he  laboured 
i^th  head  and  hand,  and  resolved  to  be  economical  and  saving.  In  vain 
Robert  held  the  plough  with  the  dexterity  of  a  man  by  day,  and  thrashed 
and  prepared  com  for  seed  or  for  sale,  evening  and  morning,  before  the 
sun  rose  and  after  it  set.  *'  The  gloom  of  hermits,  and  the  unceasing 
moil  of  galley  slaves,"  were  endur^  to  no  purpose ;  and,  to  crown  all,  a 
difference  arose  between  the  tenant  and  his  landlord,  as  to  terms  of  lease 
and  rotation  of  crop.  The  farmer,  a  stem  man,  self-willed  as  well 
as  devoutly  honest,  admitted  of  but  one  interpretation  to  ambiguous 
words.  The  proprietor,  accustomed  to  give  law  rather  than  receive  it, 
eicplained  them  to  his  own  advantage ;  and  the  declining  years  of  this 
g^ood  man,  and  the  early  years  of  his  eminent  son,  were  embittered  by 
disputes,  in  which  sensitive  natures  suffer  and  worldly  ones  thrive. 

*^  Amid  all  these  toils  and  trials,  William  Bumess  remembered  the 
-worth  of  religious  instruction,  and  the  usefulness  of  education  in  the 
rearing  of  his  children.  The  former  task  he  took  upon  himself,  and,  in 
Br  little  manual  of  devotion  still  extant,  sought  to  soften  the  rigour  of  the 
Calvinistic  creed  into  the  gentler  Arminian.  He  set,  too,  the  example 
which  he  taught.  He  abstained  from  all  profane  swearing  and  vain 
discourse,  and  shunned  all  approach  to  levity  of  conversation  or  behaviour. 
A  week-day  in  his  house  wore  the  sobriety  of  a  Sunday ;  nor  did  he  fail 
in  performing  family  worship  in  a  way  which  enabled  his  son  to  give 
the  world  that  fine  picture  of  domestic  devotion,  the  *'  Cottar's  Saturday 
Night.*"— pp.  6,  7. 

The  poet's  school  education^  as  all  the  world  knows^  was  defective 
and  obtained  at  starts.     But  he  was  an  apt,  and  remarkably  intel- 
ligent scholar.      The  poetry  he  met  with,  and  the  histories  of 
renowned  men,  particularly  Hannibal  and  Sir  William  Wallace,  set ' 
his  soul  on  fire. 

**  The  education  of  Bums  was  not  over  when  the  school-doors  were 
shut.  The  peasantry  of  ScoUand  turn  their  cottages  into  schools ;  and 
when  a  £Either  takes  his  arm-chair  by  the  evening  fire,  he  seldom  neglects 
to  communicate  to  his  children  whatever  knowlnige  he  possesses  himself. 
Nor  is  this  knowledge  very  limited ;  it  extends,  generally,  to  the  history 
of  Europe,  and  to  the  literature  of  the  island;  but  more  particularly  to 
the  divinity,  the  poetry,  and,  what  may  be  called,  the  traditionary  history 
of  Scotland.  An  intelligent  peasant  is  intimate  with  all  those  skirmishes, 
siei^es,  combats,  and  quarrels,  domestic  or  national,  of  which  public 
writers  take  no  account.  Genealogies  of  the  chief  families  are  quite 
fiiimHar  to  him.  He  has  by  heart,  too,  whole  volumes  of  songs  and 
ballads;  nay,  long  poems  sometimes  abide  in  his  recollection;  nor  will 
bs.think  his  knowledge  much,  unless  he  knows  a  littie  about  the  lives 
and  actions  of  the  men  who  have  done  most  honour  to  Scotland.  In 
addition  to  what  he  has  on  his  memory,  we  may  mention  what  he  has  on 
the  shelfp  A  common  husbandman  is  firequentiy  master  of  a  littie  library : 
history,  divinity,  and  poetry,  but  most  so  the  latter,  compose  his  collection. 


90  Bums*  and  Crahh'w  Poetry. 

BCilton  and  Young  are  favottrites;  the  flowery  Meditati<»i6  of  Hervey, 
th^  religious  romance  of  the  Pilgrim's  Progress,  are  seldom  absent ;  while 
of  Seottish  books«  Ramsay,  Thomson,  Fergusson,  and  now  Boms,  toge^ 
ther  with  songs  and  ballad-books  innumerable,  are  all  huddled  together, 
soiled  with  smoke,  and  frail  and  tattered  by  frequent  use.  The  house- 
hold of  William  Bumess  was  an  example  of  what  I  have  described ;  and  • 
th^^  is  some  truth  in  the  assertion,  that  in  true  knowledge  the  Poet  was, 
at  nineteen,  a  better  scholar  than  nine-tenths  of  our  young  gentlemen 
when  they  leave  school  for  the  college. — ^pp.  10,  11. 

We  are  giving  niore  fully  the  earlier  years  of  Burns  than  our 
limits  win  allow^  were  it  not  that  the  days  of  his  highest  history 
will  be  but  slightly  dwelt  on,  because  they  are  better  known. 
There  is  another  purpose  we  have  in  view, — the  example  presented 
of  an  excellent  system  of  education,  which,  no  where  even  in  Scot- 
land, so  far  as  the  .common  people  are  concerned,  is  more  sedu- 
lously attended  to>than  in  Ayrshire  and  the  western  counties.    We 
could  be  prolific  on  this  subject,  and  always  axe  ardent.     The  ex- 
tract now  given  affords  a  fair  specimen  of  what,  to  this  day,  is  the 
economy  of  a  farmer's  fireside.     But  to  return  to  the  poet : — ^it  is 
clear  that  the  books  he  had  access  to  (which  besides  those  enume-  • 
rated  were  all  calculated  to  enlarge  his  knowledge,  or  accomphsh 
his   mind,  such  as  geographical  grammars,  agricultural  works, 
Locke  on  the  Human  Understanding,  Bodies  of  Divinity,  Pope, 
Shakespeare,  and  English  songs)  could  be  of  no  further  use  to  him, 
as  the  biographer  sa^s,  than  just  to  shew  him  what  others  had 
done,  and  to  afford  him  information.     He  took  besides,  lessons  in 
the  classic  lore  of  his  native  land  from  an  old  woman  who  resided* 
in  the  femily,  who  was  fiill  of  marvellous  tales,  and  from  the  songs 
and  ballads  which  his  mother   commonly  chaunted,  which  were 
uniformly  of  a  moral  hue ;  till  at  length  he  who  had  listened  began 
to  speak.     '^  Beauty  first  gave  utterance  to  his  crowding  thoughts ; 
with  him  love  and  poetry  were  coevals." 

*'  *•  You  know,'  he  8a3rs,  in  his  communication  to  Moore,  *  our  country 
custom  of  coupling  a  man  and  woman  together  as  partners  in  the  labours 
of  harvest.    In  my  fifteenth  autum,  my  partner  was  a  bewitching'creature, 
a  year  younger  than  myself.   My  scarcity  of  English  denies  me  the  power 
of  doing  her  justice  in  that  language  ;  but  you  know  the  Scottish  idiom, 
*  she  was  a  bonnie  sweet  sonsie  lass.'     In  short,  she  altogether,  unwit- 
tingly to  herself,  initiated  me  in  that  delicious  passion,  which,  in  spite  of  ^ 
acid  disappointment,  gin-horse  prudence,  and  bookworm- phik>80phyi, I- 
hold  to  be  the  first  of  human  joys,  our  dearest  blessing  here  below!  .How 
she  caught  the  contagion  I  cannot  tell.      You  medical  people  talk  much 
of  infection  from  breathing  the  same  air,  the  touch,  &c. ;  but  I  n^fver 
expressly  said  I  loved  her.    Indeed,  I  did  not  know  myself  why  I  liked  so 
much  to  loiter  behind  with  her,  when  returning  iti  the  eveningfrom  our 
labours — why  the  tones  of  her  voice  made  my  heairt^tnng^  tbriU  like  an. 
£olian  harp— and  particularly  why  my  pulse  beat  such  a  furious  ratan 
when  I  looked  and  fingered  over  her  little  hand  to  pick  out  the  cniel 
nettle  stings  and  thistles.    Among  her  other  love-inspiring  qualities,  she . 
sang  sweetly ;  and  it  was  her  favourite  reel  to  which  I  attempted  giving 


Acmr*  and  Crabbe'i  Poetry,  91 

an  embodied  vehicle  in  rhyme.  I  was  not  so  presumptuous  as  to  imagine 
that  I  could  make  verses  like  printed  ones,  composed  by  men  who  had 
Greek  and  Latin ;  but  my  girl  sung  a  song  which  was  said  to  be  composed 
by  a  country  laird's  son  on  one  of  his  father's  maids  with  whom  he  was  in 
love;  and  I  saw  no  reason  why  I  might  not  rhyme  as  well  as  h&*-for, 
excepting  that  he  could  smear  sheep  and  <!ast  peats,  his  father  jiving  in 
the  moorlands,  he  had  no  more  scholar  craft  than  myself.  Thus  with  me 
b^pan  love  and  poetry.'  *'*— pp.  l6, 16.  ' 

One  other  extract  will  complete  all  that  we  can  give,  and  indeed 
tbe  great  lending  ^inls  'in  the  groundwork  education  of  this  singu- 
larly shrewd,  deep-passioned,  and  reckless  man. 

«**  The  willro'-wisp  inetdors  of  thoughtless  whim  *  liegan,  he  says,  to 
be  almost  the  sole  lights  of  his  way^  yet  early-ingrained  piety  preserved 
his  innocence,  though  it  coul^  not  keep  him  from  folly.  *  The  great  mis- 
fortime  of  my  life,'  he  wisely  says,  *  was  to  want  an  aim.  The  ony  two 
openings  by  which  I  could  enter  the  temple  of"  fortune  was  the  gate  of 
niggardly  economy,  or  the  path  of  little  chicaning  bargain  making.  The 
first  is  so  contracted  an  aperture,  I  never  cotild  squeeze  myself  into  it; 
the  last  I  always  hated — ^there  was  contamination  in  the  very  entrance. 
Thus  abandoned  of  aim  or  view  in  life,  with  a  strong  appetite  for  socia- 
biliW,  as  well  f5rom  native  hilarity  as  from  a  pride  of  observation  and  re- 
mark— a  constitutional  melancholy  or  hypochondriasm  that  made  me  fly 
solitude;  add  to  these  incentives  to  social  life,  my  reputation  for  bookish 
knowledge,  a  certain  wild  logical  talent,  and  a  strength  of  thought  some- 
thing like  the  rudiments  of  good  sense ;  and  it  will  not  seem  surprising 
that  I  was  generally  a  welcome  guest  where  I  visited ;  or  any  great  won- 
der that  where  two  or  three  met  together,  there  was  I  among  them. 
Another  circumstance  in  my  life,  which  made  some  alteration  in  my  mind 
and  manners,  was,  that  I  spent  my  nineteenth  summer  on  a  smuggling 
coast,  a  good  distance  from  home,  at  a  noted  school  to  learn  mensura- 
tion, surveying,  dialling,  &c.,  in  which  I  made  pretty  good  progress.  But 
I  made  greater  progress  in  the  knowledge  of  mankind.  The  contraband 
trade  was  at  that  time  very  successful,  and  it  sometimes  happened  to  me 
to  fall  in  with  those  who  carried  it  on.  Scenes  of  swaggering  riot  and 
roaring  dissipation  were  till  this  time  new  to  me;  but  I  was  no  enemy  to 
social  life.  Here,  though  I  learnt  to  fill  my  glass  and  to  mix  without 
fear  in  a  drunken  squabble,  yet  I  went  on  with  a  high  hand  with  my  geo- 
metry till  the  sun  entered  Virgo — a  month  which  is  always  a  carnival  in 
my  bosom — when  a  charming  jBlatte,  who  lived  next  to  the  school,  upset 
my  trigonometry,  and  set  me  off  at  a  tangent  from  the  sphere  of  my 
studies.*" — ^pp.  17»  18- 

The  biographer  has  added  to  this  account  what  the  poet  gives  of 
himself,  some  beautiful  and  touching  passages ;  which>  a^  ux  .very 
many  parts  of  the  work,  seem  to  come  from  a  bosom  thlat  has  intensely 
sympathi^  with  him,;  in  all  that  is  said*  When  about  his^  twenty- 
second  year,  Burna  betoo^L  himself  to  flax-dressing,  .to  aid  his 
&ther'8  schemes,  a  most  uncongenial  puriluit,  oomparedjto  the  labours 
of  the  field,  which  we  have  in  a  fine  letter  to  his  honoured  parent, 
a  new  aspect  of  the  poet's  mind,  quite  distinct  from  those  given  in 
any  pert  of  what  we  call  his  education.    He  had  gone  to  the  Burgh 


92  Bumi^  and  Crabb^s  Poehy* 

of  Irvine  to  work  as  a  flax-dresser,  where.  Dr.  Currie  says,  he 
possessed  a  single  room  for  his  lodging,  rented,  perhaps,  at  the 
rate  of  a  shilling  a  week ;  and  his  food  consisted  chiefly  of  oatmeal. 
After  quotmg  his  letter,  we  must  run  forward  with  the  remainder 
of  the  life,  at  a  very  different  pace  than  hitherto.  But  really  his 
epistolary  writings  are  so  energetic  and  tender,  that  it  is  widi  re* 
Ittctance  one  can  leave  them  behind.  They  are  sometimes  only 
surpassed  by  his  poetry. 

'*  He  thus  wrote  to  his  father:  'Honoured  Sir:— I  have  purposely 
delayed  writing,  in  the  hope  that  I  should  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
you  on  New-year's  day :  but  work  comes  so  hard  upon  us  that  I  do  not 
choose  to  be  absent  on  that  account.  My  health  is  nearly  the  same  as 
when  you  were  here,  only  my  sleep  is  a  little  sounder,  and  on  the  whole 
I  am  rather  better  than  otherwise,  though  I  mend  by  very  slow  degrees. 
The  weakness  of  my  nerves  has  so  debilitated  my  mind  that  I  dare 
neither  review  past  wants,  nor  look  forward  into  futurity :  for  the  least 
anxiety  or  perturbation  in  my  breast  produces  most  unhappy  effects  on 
my  whole  frame.  Sometimes,  indeed,  when  for  an  hour  or  two  my 
spirits  are  a  little  lightened,  I  glimmer  a  little  into  futurity;  but  my 
principal,  and  indeed  my  only  pleasurable  employment,  is  looking  back* 
wards  and  forwards  in  a  moral  and  religious  way.  I  am  quite  trans- 
ported at  the  thought  that  ere  long,  perhaps  very  soon,  I  shall  bid  an 
eternal  adieu  to  all  the  pains,  and  uneasinesses,  and  disquietudes  of  this 
weary  life ;  for  I  assure  you,  I  am  heartily  tired  of  it :  and,  if.  I  do  not 
very  much  deceive  mpelf,  I  could  contentedly  and  gladly  resign  it. 

**  *  As  for  this  world,*  he  continues,  *  I  despair  of  ever  making  a  figure 
in  it.    I  am  not  formed  for  the  bustle  of  the  busy,  nor  the  flutter  of  the 

y.  I  shall  never  again  be  capable  of  entering  into  such  scenes.  In- 
eed,  I  am  altogether  unconcerned  at  the  thoughts  of  this  life.  I  foresee 
that  poverty  and  obscurity  probably  await  me,  and  I  am  in  some  measure 
prepared,  and  daily  preparing,  to  meet  them.  I  have  but  just  time  and 
paper  to  return  you  my  grateful  thanks  for  the  lessons  of  virtue  and  piety 
you  have  given  me,  which  were  too  much  neglected  at  the  time  of  giving 
them,  but  which  I  hope  have  been  remembered  ere  it  is  yet  too  late.* " — 
pp.  22, 23.' 

The  death  of  the  poet's  £Either,  the  burning  of  the  flax-dressing 

S remises,  the  joint  tenancy  with  Ins  brother  Gilbert  of  the  farm  of 
f  ossgiel,  must  be  passed  over.  For  'as  the  biographer  says,  we 
are  now  to  enter  into  the  regions  of  romance ;  the  romance,  we 
add,  of  love  and  poetic  inspiration ;  the  great  business  of  Bums' 
life,  and  which  Mr.  Cunningham  has  handled  with  a  master's 
power,  nay,  a  brother's  art.  Faithful  to  his  task,  he  has  also 
touched  *^  on  the  moral  sores  of  so  fine  a  genius,"  without  which 
his  character  cannot  be  understood.  We  coincide  with  the  bio- 
grapher, when  he  says,  that  Bums  was  '^  no  practised  toper,  but 
thought  it  necessary  to  look  a  gay  fellow  in  poetry !"  this  at  least 
held  tme  of  him,  after  he  had  often  sung  the  pleasures  of  the 
bowl.  '^  But  liquor  was  not  then,  and  I  believe  never  was,  a  settled 
desire  of  soul  with  the  poet,"  says  Mr.  Cunningham,  with  which 


det 


Amu*  and  Cntbbe*$  Poeity.  98 

we  aba  agree.  Of  his  profene  verses  and  pieces  connected  witb  a 
controveTsy  amongst  the  theologians  of  the  west  of  Scotland^  we 
will  not  say  more  than  that  they  added  as  little  to  the  good  name 
of  the  poet  as  they  did  to  the  party  they  served. 

When  twenty-three  years  of  age.  Bums  had  taken  his  station  as 
a  man  in  society,  and  was  courted  hy  all  within  his  provincial  cir- 
cle, who  had  any  relish  for  vdt,  or  soul  for  poetry.  We  are  told, 
speaking  of  this  time,  that  he  was  distinguished  by  large  dark 
expressive  eyes,  swarthy  visage,  broad  brow,  shadea  with  black 
curly  hair;  melancholy  look,  and  well-knit  frame,  vigorous  and 
active.  He  afiected,  too,  a  certain  oddity  of  dress  and  manner. 
He  was  clever  in  controversy,  but  obstinate,  and  ever  fierce,  when 
contradicted,  as  most  men  are,  who  have  built  np  their  opinions 
for  themselves.  But  the  greatest  part  of  his  history  is  to  be  found 
in  bis  compositions^  in  which  he  poured' out  all  the  loves,  the  cares, 
the  sorrows,  the  joys,  the  hopes  and  fears  of  the  passing  moment ; 
and  to  such  a  record  we  must  chiefly  refer. 

The  £Eulure  of  the  farm  undertaking  at  Mossgiel,  the  resolution 
of  going  out  as  a  sort  of  steward  to  the  plantations,  and  the  pas« 
sages  of  tenderness  and  sorrow  between  Jean  Armour  and  him, 
must  be  learnt  from  the  work  before  us,  by  a  direct  perusal  of  it. 
The  publication  of  some  of  his  earliest  and  best  pieces,  which  took 
place  at  this  critical  period,  gave  a  total  turn  to  his  fortunes  and 
prospects.  To  Scotland  at  large,  "  the  rising  of  a  July  sun  on  a 
December  morning,  could  not  have  given  greater  surprise,  than  did 
the  first  published  poems  of  the  bard  of  Ayrshire.  High  and  low 
were  enchanted  by  them ;  and  they  were  the  means  of  preventing 
him  setting  foot  on  board  the  vessel  at  Greenock,  whither  he  had 
gone  to  bid  fiffeweU  to  Scotland.  A  copy  of  them  had  reached 
Dr.  Blacklock,  a  poet  of  some  note,  who  resided  in  Edinburgh, 
and  the  doctor's  warm  approbation  of  their  merits,  and  strongly 
expressed  desire  for  the  welfare  of  the  young  author,  having  reached 
Bums  just  in  time  to  prevent  his  setting  sail,  drew  him  to  Edin- 
burgh, which  Mr.  Cunningham  considers  the  commencement  of 
the  second  era  of  the  bard's  life.  . 

In  Edinburgh,  rank,  fashion  and  genius,  conspired  to  do  him 
himoiir ;  a  large  edition  of  his  poems  was  sold,  and  his  name  raised 
to  the  highest  place  among  modem  poets. 

••How  he  appeared  in  the  sight  of  others,  Dugald  Stewart  has  told  us. 
'He  came,'  says  the  Professor,  •  to  Edinburgh  early  in  the  winter:  the 
attentions  which  he  received  during  his  stay  in  town  from  all  ranks  and 
descriptions  of  persons,  was  such  as  would  have  turned  any  head  but  his 
Gvn.  I  cannot  saytthat  I  could  perceive  any  un&vourable  effect  which 
they  left  on  his  mind.  He  retained  the  ^ame  simplicity  of  manners  and 
i^ipearaQce  which  had  struck  me  so  forcibly  when  I  first  saw  him  in  the 
country ;  nor  did  he  seem  to  feel  any  additional  self-importance  from  the 
number  and  rank  of  his  new  acquaintance.  His  dress  was  perfectly  suited 
to  his  station — ^plain  and  unpretending,  with  sufficient  attention  to  neat- 


d4  Bitnu*  and  Crabb^'s  Poetry. 

Bess.  If  I  reCfc^lect  rigbt>  he  always  wore  boots ;  and  when  on  more 
than  usiiaI  ceremony,  bucksldn-breeches.  His  manners  were  t^en,  as 
they  conturaed  ^ver  ajfterwaids,  simple,  manly,  and  independent ;  strongly 
expressive  of  conscious  genius  and  worth,  but  without  any  thing  tibat 
indicated ,  forwardness,  arrogance,  or  vanity.  He  took  his  share  in  con- 
versatioiii,  but  not  more  than  belonged  to  him ;  and  listened,  with  apparent 
attention  and  deference  on  subjects  where  his  want  of  education  deprived 
him  of  the  means  of  information.  If  there  had  been  a  little  more  of  gen- 
tleness and  accommodation  in  his  temper,  he  would,  I  think,  have  been 
still  mote  interesting ;  but  he  had  been  accustomed  to  give  law  in  the 
circle  of  his  ordinary  acquaintance,  and  his  dread  of  anything  approaching 
to  meanness  or  servility  rendered  his  manner  somewhat  decided  and 
hard.  Nothing,  perhaps,  was  more  remarkable,  among  his  various  attain- 
mente,  than  the  fluency,  and  precision,  and  originality  of  his  language 
when  he  spoke  in  company;  more  particularly  aa  he  aimed  at  purity  m 
his  turn  of  expilession,  and  avoided  more  successfully  than  most  Scotch- 
man the  peeuliarities  of  Scottish  phraseology." — pp.  119—^121. 

But  the  career  ofBurns  in  Edinburgh,  and  the  habits  there  ac- 

auiredy  are  well  known.  The  various  tours  into  distant  parts  of 
iie  kingdbm,  to  the  Borders  and  to  the  Highlands,  which  the  poet 
made,  have  often  been  described.  He  hin^elf  kept  a  memoran* 
dum-book,  in  which  he  noted  down  whatever  particularly  struck 
him.  But  this  book  was  caitied  away  from  his  lodgings  by  a  visi- 
tor, who  reftised  to  Restore  it,  and  it  was  lost.  At  last  he  turned 
his  steps  westward.  He. had  found  the  illustrious  of  hia  native 
land  had  the  carcase  of  greatness,  but  wanted  the  soul ;  they  gave 
him  dinners,  and  subscribed  for  his  poems,  and  looked  on  their 
g6nero6ity  as  ^^  an  alms  coald  keep  a  god  alive."  The  thoughts  of 
home,  of  a  settled  purpose  in  life,  afforded  him  a  solace  such  as  he 
had  never  before  known.  He  reached  Mauchline  not  a  moment 
too  soon.  The  intercourse  which  in  his  visits  to  Ayrshire  he  had, 
in  the  coimpe  of  the  bygone  months,  renewed  with  Jean  Arinomr, 
exposed  her  once  more  to  the  reproaches  of  her  family ;  ajid  on  his 
arrival  he  took  her  by  the  hand,  and  was  married  according  to  the 
lawd  of  his  country. 

Mr.  Cunningham's  third  era  of  Bum*s  life  commences  in  1788, 
when  he  made  his  appearance  as  a  farmer  in  Nithdale,  six  miles 
above  Dumfries.  This  is  not  only  the  last  but  the  most  afiectiiig 
division  of  the  illustrious  peasant's  history ;  and  the  biogr2q>her  has 
done  more  foi;  it,  so  £ax  as  new  matter  has  been  given,  than  for 
the  former  periods.  We  shall  select  a  few  of  the  most  striking  parts 
of  what  to  ua  is  original,  for  quotatiyn.  We  are  not  going  to  follow 
the  iMid  success  attending  his  forming  of  Ellisland,  nor  rail  alKmt 
kis  appointment  to  an  exciseman's  office,  which  he  himself  seems 
to  have  considered  no  bad  thing  as  times  and  things  were.  One 
thing  is  clearly  established,  that  he  acquitted  himself  diligently  but 
gently  in  his  public  vocation.  Against  the  regular  smuggler  his 
looks  were  stem  and  his  hand  was  heavy,  while  to  the  poor  coun- 
try dealer  he  was  lenient. 


Burntt  imd  CrMe*9  P0etty,  95 

**  Tbe  Poet  and  a  brother  exdaeman  onc^  day  suddenly  entered  a 
widow  woman's  shop  m  Dunscore,  and  made  a  seizure  of  smuggled 
tobacco. — *^  Jenny,"  said  the  Poet,  "  I  expected  this  would  be  the  upshot; 
here,  Lewars,  take  note  of  the  number  of  rolls  as  I  count  them.  Now^ 
Jock,  did  you  ever  hear  an  auldwife  numbering  her  threads  before 
check-reels  were  invented  ?  Thou's  ane,  and  thou's  no  ane,  and  thou's 
ane  a'  out — ^listen."  As  he  handed  out  the  rolls,  he  went  on  with  his 
humorous  enumeration,  but  dropping  every  other  roll  into  Janet's  lap. 
Lewars  took  the  desired  note  with  much  gravity,  and  saw  as  if  he  saw 
not  the  merciful  conduct  of  his  companion.  Another  information  had 
been  lodged  against  a  widow  who  kept  a  small  public-house  in  Thomhill ; 
it  was  a  fair  day — hef  house  was  crowded — ^Bums  came  suddenly  to  the 
back  door  and  said,  *'  Kate,  are  ye  mad ; — the  supervisor  and  me  will  be 
in  on  ye  in  half  an  hour  I"  This  merciful  hint— out  of  which  a  very 
serious  charge  might  be  made — saved  the  poor  woman  from  ruin." 
—p.  234. 

It  was  not  long  after  he- became  an  exciseman  that  be  wrote  the 
poem  of  The  Wounded  Hare ;  and  he  has  described  the  circum- 
stances under  which  it  was  composed.  The  biographer  had  the 
account  confirmed  by  James  Thomson^  the  son  of  a  neighbouring 
farmer-     Thus — 

*•  I  remember  Burns,**  said  he,  "  weel ;  I  have  some  cause  to  mind 
Mm — he  used  to  walk  in  the  twilight  along  the  side  of  the  Nith,  near  the 
march,  between  his  land  and  ours.  Once  1  shot  at  a  hare  that  was  busy 
on  our  braird ;  she  ran  bleeding  past  Bums ;  he  cursed  me,  and  ordered 
me  out  of  his  sight,  else  he  would  throw  me  into  the  water.  I'm  told  he 
has  written  a  poem  about  it." — "  Aye,  that  he  has,"  I  replied ;  '*  but  do 
you  think  he  would  have  thrown  you  into  the  Nith  ?" — **  Thrown  I  aye 
I'U  warrant  would  be,  though  1  was  baith  young  and  strong."  He  sub- 
mitted the  poem-M^iertainly  not  one  of  his  best — ^to  Dr.  Gregory ;  the 
result  scar^  him  from  consulting  in  future  professional  critics. — ^*  I 
believe,"  he  said,  "in  the  iron  justice  of  Dr.  Gregory;  but  1  believe 
and  tremble."  Such  criticisms  tend  to  crush  the  spirit  out  of  man." — 
pp.  235, 236. 

His  Mary  in  Heaven,  one  of  his  loftiest  lyrics,  was  written  un- 
der circumstances  that  pressed  painfiiUy  on  the  mind  of  his  wife. 

"Robert,"  she  saicL  "  though  ill  of  a  cold,  had  busied  himself  all  day 
with  the'  shearers  in  trie  field,  and,  as  he  had  got  much  of  the  crop  in,  was 
hi  capital  spirits.  But  when  the  gloaming  came,  he  grew  sad  about 
something— *he  could  nt>t  rest.  He  wandered  first  up  the  water-side,  and 
then  went  to  the  barn-yard ;  and  I  followed  him,  begging  him  to  come 
in,  as  he  was  ill,  and  the  air  was  cold  and  sharp.  He  always  promised, 
but  still  remained  where  he  was,  striding  up  and  down,  and  looking  at 
the  clear  sky,  and  particularly  at  a  star  that  shone  like  another  moon. 
He  then  threw  himself  down  on  some  loose  sheaves,  still  continuing  to 
gaze  at  the  star.  When  he  came  in  he  seemed  deeply  dejected,  and.  sat 
down  and  wrote  the  first  verse : — 


«« 


Thou  lingering  star,  with  lessening  ray. 
That  lov'st  to  greet  the  early  mom, 


96  Bmma*  tmd  €raiU$  Bctiry. 

Agam  thou  usherest  in  the  day 

My  Mary  from  my  bouI  was  torn. 
OMary!  dear  departed  shade  I 

Where  is  thy  place  of  blissful  rest  ? 
Seest  thou  thy  lover  lowly  laid  ? 

Hearest  thou  the  groans  that  rend  his  breast*' 

Bums  met  Grose  the  antiquarian  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Riddel,  of 
Friars-carse,  and  in  talking  about  the  antiquities  of  Scotland,  he 
begged  of  Grose  that  he  would  introduce  Alloway  Kirk  into  his 
projected  work ;  and  to  fix  the  subject  in  his  mind,  related  some  of 
the  wild  stories  with  which  Scotland  abounds. 

".  The  antiquarian  listened  to  them  all,  and  then  said,  *  Write  a  poem 
on  it,  and  I'll  put  in  the  verses  with  an  engraving  of  the  ruin.'  Bums 
set  his  muse  to  work ;  he  could  hardly  sleep  for  the  spell  that  was  upon 
him,  and  with  his  '  barmy  noddle  working  prime,'  walked  out  to  his 
fiivourite  path  along  the  river-bank. 

«« «  Tam  O'Shanter '  was  the  work  of  a  single  day ;  the  name  was  taken 
from  the  furm  of  Shanter  in  Kyle,  the  story  firom  tradition.  Mrs.  Bums 
relates,  that  observing  Robert  walking  with  long  swinging  sort  of  strides 
and  apparently  muttering  as  he  went,  she  let  him  alone  for  some  time ;  at 
length  she  took  the  children  with  her  and  went  forth  to  meet  him;  he 
seemed  not  to  observe  her,  but  continued  his  walk ;  '  on  this,'  said  she,  *  I 
stept  aside  with  the  bairns  among  the  broom — and  past  us  he  came,  \us 
brow  flushed  and  his  eyes  shining ;  he  was  reciting  these  lines  : — 

*  Now  Tam  1  O  Tam  1  had  thae  been  queans, 
A'  plump  and  strapping  in  their  teens, 
Their  sarks,  instead  o'  creshie  flannen. 
Been  snaw- white  seventeen  hunder  linen  I 
Thir  breeks  o'mine  my  only  pair. 
That  ance  were  plush,  o'  gude  blue  hair, 
I  wad  hae  gi'en  them  aff  my  hurdles ! 
For  ae  biink  o'  the  bonoy  burdies !' 

I  wish  ye  had  but  seen  him  I  he  was  in  such  ecstasy  that  the  tears  were 
happing  down  his  cheeks.'  The  poet  had  taken  writing  materials  with 
him,  and  leaning  on  a  turf  fence  which  commanded  a  view  of  the  river, 
he  committed  the  poem  to  paper,  walked  home,  and  read  it  in  great 
triumph  at  the  fire-side.  It  came  complete  and  perfect  from  his  fancy  at 
the  first  heat , — ^no  other  work  in  the  language  contains  such  wondrous 
variety  of  genius  in  the  same  number  of  lines.  His  own  account  of  his 
rapture  in  composition  confirms  the  description  of  Mrs.  Bums  :— '  I 
seized,'  said  he  to  a  correspondent,  *  my  gilt-head  Wangee  rod  in  my  lef^ 
hand — an  instrument  indispensably  necessary — in  the  moment  of  inspi- 
ration and  rapture,  and  stride,  stride,  quicker  and  quicker, — out  skipt  I 
among  the  broomy  babks  of  the  Nith  to  muse.' " — pp.  245, 246. 

We  consider  Tam  O'Shanter  the  most  perfect  poem  Bums  has 
written,  and  he  seems  so  to  have  thought  of  it  himself. 

*'  He  carried  it  in  his  pocket,  and  read  it  willingly  to  those  in  whose 
taste  he  had  any  trust.  He  read  it  to  my  father.  His  voice  was  deep, 
manly,  and  melodious,  and  his  eye  sparkled  as  he  saw  the  effect  of  his 
poem  on  all  around — ^young  and  old.    A  writer,  who  happened  to  be 


Bmrns^  aniCrvbbe' 9  Poetry.  97 

present  on  businesB,  stung,  perhape^  with  that  sarcastic  touch  on  the 
brethren — 

*  Three  lawyers'  tongues  turn'd  inside  out 
With  lies  seam'd  like  a  beggar's  clout.' 
remarked,  that  he  thought  the  language  describing  the  witches'  orgies 
obscure.     '  Obscure,  sir !'  said  Bums,  *  ye  know  not  the  language  of  that 
great  master  of  youy  own  heart — the  devil.     If  you  get  a  witch,  for  a 
client,  you  will  not  be  able  to  manage  her  defence  I'  " — p.  249. 

Our  limits  advertise  us  that  we  must  proceed  to  a  short  notice 
of  the  poems  that  are  for  the  first  time  made  public  in  this  edition. 
It  generaUy  happens  that  the  pieces  which  are  scraped  together  by 
industrious  editors  to  swell  tbe  already  published  works  of  cele- 
brated authors  seldom  enlarge  their  fame,  or  call  for  deep  regret 
that  they  should  have  long  lain  undiscovered.     In  the  present  in- 
stance, however,  although  the  numerous  additional  poems  to  those 
that  appeared  in  Currie  s  edition  cannot  confer  on  Burns  any  con- 
siderable celebrity  above  that  which  in  truth  was  before  unlimited, 
they  do  nevertheless  bear  the  "  true  Bums  stamp,"  and  still  fiir- 
ther  illustrate  the  versatility,  depth,  strength,  and  tenderness  of  his 
genius.     The  first  that  we  shall  notice  was  addressed  to  Major  Lo- 
gan, who  lived  near  Ayr ;  he  was  a  first-rate  performer  on  the  vio- 
Kn,  and  not  a  little  of  a  wit.     It  is  in  the  form  of  an  epistle,  which 
the  poet  often  embraced,  and  on  which  he  would,  in  the  easiest  style, 
hang  any  number  of  incidents  and  sentiments.    As  the  editor  says, 
several  of  the  stanzas  resemble  passages  that  have  been  long  be- 
fore the  public;  but  still  it  has  a  spirit  of  its  own. 

*'  Epistle  to  Major  Logan. 
Hail,  thairm-inspirin',  rattlin'  Willie! 
Though  fortune's  road  be  rough  an'  hilly 
To  every  fiddling,  rhyming  biliie. 

We  never  heed. 
But  take  it  like  the  unbacked  filly. 

Proud  o'  her  speed. 
When  idly  goavan  whyles  we  saunter 
Yirr,  fancy  barks,  awa'  we  canter 
Uphill,  down  brae,  till  some  mishanter. 

Some  black  bog-hole. 
Arrests  us,  then  the  scathe  an'  banter 

We're  forced  to  thole. 
Hale  be  your  heart !  Hale  be  your  fiddle ; 
Lang  may  your  elbuck  jink  and  diddle. 
To  cheer  you  through  the  weary  widdle 

O' this  wild  warl'. 
Until  you  on  a  crummock  driddle 

A  gray  hair'd  carl. 
Come  wealth,  come  poortith,  late  or  soon 
Heaven  send  your  heart-strings  ay  in  tune,. 
And  screw  your  temper  pins  aboon 

A  fifth  or  mair. 
The  melancholious,  lazie  croon 

O'  cankrie  care. 

VOL.  III.    (1834.)  NO.  I.  '  H 


98  Bums^  and  Crabht's  Poetry. 

May  still  your  life  from  day  to  day 
Nae'  '*  lente  largo  "  in  the  play, 
But "  allegretto  forte  "  gay 

Harmonious  flow 
A  sweeping,  kindling,  bauld  strathspey — 

Encore;  Bravo! 
A  blessing  on  the  cheery  gang 
Wha  dearly  like  a  jig  or  sang. 
An'  never  think  o'  right  an'  wrang 

By  square  an'  rule, 
But  as  the  cleg^  o'  feeling  stang 

Are  wise  or  fool. 
My  hand- waled  curse  keep  hard  in  chase 
The  harpy,  hoodock,  purse-proud  race, 
Wha  count  on  poortith  as  disgrace — 

Their  timeless  hearts  \ 
May  fireside  discords  jar  a  base 

To  a'  their  parts ! 
But  come,  your  hand,  my  careless  brither, 
rth'  ither  warl'  if  there's  anither. 
An*  that  there  is  I've  little  swither 

About  the  matter; 
We  cheek  for  chow  shall  jog  thegither, 

I'se  ne'er  bid  better. 
We've  faults  and  failings — ^granted  clearly. 
We're  frail  backsliding  mortals  merely, 
Eve*s  bonny  squad  priests  wyte  them  sheerly 

For  our  grand  fa* ; 
But  still,  but  still,  I  like  them  dearly — 

God  bless  them  a'  I 
Ochon  for  poor  Castalian  drinkers, 
When  they  fa'  foul  o'  earthly  jinkers. 
The  witching  curs'd  delicious  blinkers 

Hae  put  me  byte. 
And  gart  me  weet  my  waukrife  winkers, 

Wi'  gaman  spite. 
But  by  yon  moon ! — and  that's  high  swcarin'- 
An*^  every  star  within  my  hearin'Y — 
An'  by  her  een  wha  was  a  dear  ane ! 

I'll  ne'er  forget; 
I  hope  to  gie  the  jads  a  clearin' 

In  fair  play  yet. 
My  loss  I  mourn,  but  not  repent  it, 
I'll  seek  my  pursie  whare  I  tint  it, 
Ance  to  the  Indies  I  were  wonted. 

Some  cantraip  hour. 
By  some  sweet  elf  I'll  yet  be  dinted, 

Then,  vive  Pammir! 
Fcdtes  mes  bcdssemains  respeotueuse^ 
To  sentimental  sister  Susie, 
An'  honest  Lucky;  no  to  roose  you, 

-  Ye  may  be  proud. 


Bmu*  mi  Crabbe's  Poetry.  $9 

That  sic  a  couple  fate  allows  ;e 

To  grace  your  blood* 
Nae  mair  at  preseut  can  I  measure, 
An'  trowth  my  rhymin'  waxe'e  nae  treasure ; 
But  when  in  Ayr,  some  half-hour's  leisure, 

Be't  light,  be't  dark, 
Sir  Bard  will  do  himself  the  pleasure* 

To  call  at  Park."— pp.  9—12. 

Bums'  shorter  poems  do  not  bear  to  be  mangled.  We  must, 
therefore^  in  extracting  newly  published  pieces^  select  a  few  of  the 
shortest — ^from  his  epigrams.  He  is  the  author  of  many ;  ^'  they 
are  sharp  and  personal,  and  partake  of  the  character  of  the  naturd 
rather  than  the  artificial  man.  He  grapples  at  once  with  his  enemy, 
and  prostrates  him,  not  so  much  by  science  as  by  robust  strength." 
To  this  just  criticism,  the  editor,  with  equal  regard  to  truth,  adds, 
'^  his  wit  sometimes  inclines  to  the  promne,  and  his  humour  deals 
too  much  in  scriptural  allusions." 

"  The  Kirk  of  Latndnaton. 
As  caul4  a  wind  as  ever  blew, 
A  caulder  kirk,  and  in't  but  few; 
As  cauld  a  minister's  e'er  spak, 
Ye*se  a'  be  het  ere  I  come  back. 
"  The  poet  was  stopped  by  a  storm  once  in  Clydesdale,  and  on  Sunday 
went  to  Lamiagton  Kirk  :  the  day  was  so  rough,  the  kirk  so  cold,  and 
the  sermon  so  little  to  his  liking,  that  he  left  his  poetic  protest  on  the 
window." 

*'  Inseripticn  on  a  Goblet. 
There's  death  in  the  cup — sae  beware  I 

Nay,  more — ^there  is  danger  in  touching ; 
But  wha  can  avoid  the  fell  snare  ? 

The  man  and  his  wine's  sae  bewitching ! 

^  One  day  after  dinner,  at  Ryedale,  Bums  wrote  these  lines  on  a  goblet 
with  his  diamond.  Syme  would  seem  to  have  been  less  affected  with  the 
compliment  than  with  defacing  his  crystal  service,  for  he  threw  the  goblet 
behind  the  fire.  We  are  not  told  what  the  Poet  thought;  but  it  is  said 
that  Brown,  the  clerk  of  '  Stamp-office  Johnny,'  snatched  the  goblet  out 
of  the  fire  uninjured,  and  kept  it  as  a  relique  till  his  death." 

"  The  Toad-eater. 
What  of  earls  with  whom  you  have  supt. 

And  of  dukes  that  you  dined  with  yestreen  ? 
Lord  I  a  louse.  Sir,  is  still  but  a  louse. 
Though  it  crawl  on  the  curls  of  a  queen. 
"  At  the  table  of  Maxwell  of  Terraughty,  when  it  was  the  pleasure  of 
one  of  the  guests  to  talk  only  of  dukes  with  whom  he  had  drank,  and  of 
earls  with  whom  he  had  dined.  Bums  silenced  him  with  this  epigram." 

'*The  Selkirk  Grace. 
Some  hae  meat  and  canna  eat, 

And  some  wad  eat  that  want  it. 
But  we  hae  meat  and  we  can  eat. 
And  sae  the  Lord  be  thanket. 

h2 


1 00  Bums*'  and  Crabbers  P<tetry, 

•'  On  a  visit  to  St.  Mary*s  Isle,  the  Earl  of  Selkirk  requested  Buma  to 
say  grace  at  dinner.  These  were  the  words  he  uttered — they  were 
applauded  then,  and  have  since  heen  known  in  Galloway  hy  the  name  of 
'  The  Selkirk  Grace/  "—pp.  302--311. 

What  a  contrast  do  the  following  epitaphs  present  ? — 

**0n  tke  Poefs  Daughter. 
Here  lies  a  rose,  a  hudding  rose. 

Blasted  before  its  bloom ; 
Whose  innocence  did  sweets  disclose 

Beyond  that  flower's  perfume. 
To  those  who  for  her  loss  are  gnev'd, 

This  consolation's  given — 
She's  from  a  world  of  woe  relieved. 
And  blooms  a  rose  in  heaven. 
•♦  These  tender  and  affecting  lines  were  written,  it  is  said,  on  the  death 
of  the  Poet's  daughter,  in  1795.     He  loved  the  child  dearly,  and  mourned 
her  loss  with  many  tears.     His  own  health  was  giving  ws]r-^he  was 
fading  before  his  time." 

"On  a  Suicide, 
Earth'd  up  here  lies  an  imp  o'hell. 

Planted  by  Satan's  dibble- 
Poor  silly  wretch,  he's  damn'd  himsel' 
To  save  the  Lord  the  trouble. 
**  A  melancholy  person  of  the  name  of  Glendinning  having  taken  away 
his  own  life,  was  interred  at  a  place  called  *The  Old  Chapel,*  close 
beside  Dumfries.     My  friend.  Dr.  Copland  Hutchinson,  happened  to  be" 
walking  out  that  way:  he  saw  Bums  with  his  foot  on  the  grave,  his  hat 
on  his  knee,  and  paper  laid  on  his  hat,  on  which  he  was  writing.     He 
then  took  the  paper,  thrust  it  with  his  finger  into  the  red  mould  of  the 
grave,  and  went  away.    This  was  the  above  epigram,  and  such  was  ^e 
Poet's  mode  of  publishing  it."-— pp.  312-*-317* 

We  give  the  last  scene  of  the  great  poet's  life  as  given  by  Cun^ 
ningham. 

^  His  interment  took  place  on  the  25th  of  July ;  nor  should  it  be  for- 
gotten, in  relating  the  Poet's  melancholy  story,  that,  while  his  body  was 
borne  along  the  street,  his  widow  was  taken  in  labour  and  delivered  of  a 
son,  who  survived  his  birth  but  a  short  while.  The  leading  men  of  the 
town  and  neighbourhood  appeared  as  mourners ;  the  streets  were  lined 
by  the  Angushire  Fencibles  and  the  Cinque  Ports  Cavalry,  and  his 
body  was  borne  by  the  Volunteers  to  the  old  kirk-yard,  with  military 
honours.  The  multitude  who  followed  amounted  to  many  thousands. 
It  was  an  impressive  and  a  mournful  sight ;  all  was  orderly  and  decorous. 
The  measured  steps,  the  military  array,  the  colours  displayed,  and  the 
muffled  drum- — I  thought  then,  and  think  now — ^had  no  connexion  with 
a  Pastoral  Bard.  I  mingled  with  the  mourners.  On  reaching  the  grave 
into  which  the  Poet's  body  was  about  to  descend,  there  was  a  pause 
among  them,  as  if  loth  to  part  "v^ith  his  remains;  and  when  the  first 
shovel-full  of  earth  sounded  on  the  coffin  lid,  I  looked  up,  and  saw  tears 
on  many  cheeks  where  tears  were  not  usual.  The  Volunteera  justified 
the  surmise  of  Bums  by  three  ragged  and  straggling  vollies;  the  earth 
was  heaped  up,  and  the  vast  multitude  melted  silently  away. 


Bums'  and  Crabbers  Poetry.  101 

**  Tbe  body  of  Bums  was  not,  however*  to  remain  long  in  its  place. 
To  suit  the  plan  of  a  rather  showy  mausoleum,  his  remains  were  removed 
into  a  more  commodious  spot  of  the  same  kirk-yard,  on  the  5th  of  June, 
1815.  The  coffin  was  partly  dissolved  away ;  but  the  dark  curling  locks 
of  the  Poet  were  as  glossy,  and  seemed  as  f^esh,  as  on  the  day  of  his 
death.  In  the  interior  of  the  structure  stands  a  marble  monument,  em- 
bodying, with  little  skill  or  grace,  that  weU-known  passage  in  the  dedica- 
tion to  the  gentlemen  of  the  Caledonian  Hunt : — *"  The  poetic  Genius  of 
my  country  found  me,  as  the  prophetic  bard  Elijah  did  Elisha — at  the 
plough ;  and  threw  her  inspiring  mantle  over  me.''— Nor  is  the  indiffer- 
ent sculpture  redeemed  by  the  inscription.  The  merits  of  him  who 
wrote  <'  Tam  O'  Sbanter,"  and  "  The  Cottar's  Saturday  Night,"  are 
concealed  in  Latin.  Here,  as  to  a  shrine,  flock  annually  vast  numbers 
of  pilgrims ;  many,  very  many,  are  from.  America ;  not  a  few  from 
France  and  Germany ;  and  the  list-book  contains  the  names  of  the  most 
esBineut  men  of  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland." — vol.  i.  pp.  345,  346. 

**  He  was  thirty^aeven  years  and  seven  months  old  when  he  died^ 
and  of  a  form  and  strength  which  promised  long  life ;  but  the  great 
and  inspired  are  often  cut  down  in  youth,  while 

Villains  ripen  grey  with  time. 

We  entered  upon  these  volumes  with  the  accustomed  fear^  that 
at  the  close  of  the  illustrious  peasant's  life  here  drawn,  we  should 
still  feel  there  was  something  yet  wanting  to  do  justice  to  the  genius 
and  character  of  the  departed,  and  to  the  desires  of  the  living.  Bi|t. 
we  must  retract  the  sweeping  expressions  with  wliich  we  set  out, 
and  say  that  we  cannot  hope,  and  hardly  wish  that  any  other  hand 
should  hereafter  touch  the  subject  of  the  first  of  the  volumes  before 
IIS.  The  Life  is  a  manly  honest  careful  work ;  tender  and  compre- 
hensive as  the  fine  sensibility  and  grandeur  of  the  Poet's  soul,  de* 
manded.  But  the  litde  we  have  accomplished,  to  give  our  readers 
some  idea  of  the  merits  of  the  Biographer,  utterly  fails  in  doing 
any  thing  like  justice  to  his  efforts.  It  is  the  Life,  or  rather  the 
whole  of  this  new  edition,  that  must  be  perused,  ere  its  real  ex- 
cell^ice  can  be  known:  whilst  the  exterior  beauty  of  the  volumes, 
and  their  cheapness  should  be  an  additional  recommendation  to  all 
who  can  reUsh  the  poetry,  and  the  letters  of  the  immortal  Scottish 
Bard. 

Mr.  Crabbe,  the  subject  of  our  second  notice,  has  found  an  ex- 
cellent biographer  in  his  son,  who  has  performed  an  acceptable 
service,  and  a  filial  duty,  in  treasuring  up  all  that  can  be  re- 
membered of  a  man  of  great  ability  and  worth— of  a  poet  distin- 
guished for  his  originality  and  power.  We  shall,  therefore,  princi- 
pally avail  ourselves  of  the  materials  furnished  by  his  son^  in  the 
sketch  we  intend  to  give  of  his  life  and  writings. 

George  Crabbe  was  born  at  Aldborough,  on  the  Christmas  eve 
of  1754.  The  circumstances  of  his  family  were  very  humble,  and 
he  has  himself  told  us,  with  good-humoured  sarcasm,  of  the  vanity 
of  one  of  his  ancestors,  who  endeavoured  to  repair,  in  some  degree, 
the  unkindness  of  fortune,  by  dignifying  the  family  name,  origmally 


102  Bums*  and  Crabbe's  Poetry. 

Crab,  with  the  addition  of  two  final  letters.  His  father,  after 
passing  several  years  in  the  itinerant  occupation  of  a  schoolmaster, 
was  at  length  installed  in  the  ofHces  of  warehouse-keeper,  and  de- 
puty-collector of  the  port  of  Aldborough,  to  which  he  afterwards 
added  that  of  the  collector  of  the  salt  duties^  or  salt-master,  as  this 
officer  is  usually  denominated.  He  appears  to  have  united  many 
valuable  traits  of  character  with  repulsive  sternness  and  severity ; 
vfkule  his  wife,  on  the  other  hand,  tP  whdm  Crabbe  often  alludes  in 
tenns  of  aflfeetionate  veneration,  was  one  ct  those  beautiful  exam- 
ples of  retiring  Christian  virtue^  which,  like  the  most  delicate 
flot^ers,  are  rarely  found  but  in  the  shade.  There  was  little  in  the 
aspect  of  his  native  village  to  charm  a  poet's  fancy :  it  was  a  barren 
and  deserted  spot,  situated  between  the  base  of  a  low  cliff  and  the 
shore  of  the  German  ocean ;  its  dwellings  were  like  thos^  which 
are  not  unfirequently  seen  on  the  sands  of  the  coast,  appearing  as  if 
drawn  up  at  anchor  on  the  shore;  and  it  was  peopled  by  a  wild  and 
amphibious  race  of  fishermen  and  sailors,  competently  versed  in  the 
accomplishments  which  are  apt  to  beset  the  men  of  perilous  ad- 
venture. The  landscape,  notwithstanding  the  attempt  made  by  some 
hardy  poet  to  describe  it  as  a  scene  of  beauty,  presented  little  to 
,  the  eye,  excepting  a  desolate  succession  of  unbroken  heath  and 
, '  sand,  enlivened  with  a  meagre  covering  of  weeds  and  rushes ;  there 
;  was  in  feet  nothing  in  the  prospect  to  excite  or  fire  the  poetical 
imagination,  but  the  ever  varying  aspect  of  the  ocean,  on  which,  as 
is  obvious  from  all  Crabbers  writings,  he  loved  to  dwell.  The 
social  aspect  of  his  residence  was,  if  possible,  still  less  inviting  than 
the  face  of  nature.  His  home  was  rendered  sad  and  desolate  by 
the  harshness  of  his  father ;  and  there  were  none  abroad  among 
whom  his  own  tastes  could  find  the  least  encouragement  or  sympa- 
thy. His  youthful  proficiency  in  the  art  of  managing  a  fishing 
boat  was  so  indifferent,  that  his  father  would  sometimes  ask,  in  the 
bitterness  of  his  heart,  *  What  that  thing  would  ever  be  good  for?* 
It  should  be  stated,  however,  that  the  father  had  sense  enough  to 
discover  the  talent  of  his  son,  and,  as  the  latter  afterwards  acknow- 
ledged with  gratitude,  laboured  to  provide  him  with  such  means  of 
education  as  his  own  limited  resources  would  allow.  But  the  lite- 
rary toleration  of  the  salt-master  did  not  extend  to  so  crying  a  he- 
resy as  poetry :  he  was  a  subscriber  to  some  philosophical  magazine, 
the  gravity  of  whose  pages  was  regularly  enlivened  with  a  score  or 
two  of  verses ;  these  it  was  his  custom  to  cut  out  when  he  sent  the 
numbers  to  be  bound,  and  they  were  treasured  up  as  a  rich  pos- 
session by  his  son,  who  found  in  them  his  first  models  of  the  art, 
in  which  he  afterwards  excelled. 

In  his  eleventh  or  twelfth  year,  after  having  attended  a  village 
school,  for  what  period  we  are  not  informed^  he  was  removed  to 
another,  where  he  was  expected  to  prepare  himself  to  become  ap- 
prentice to  a  snrgeon.  He  is  said  here  to  have  exhibited  a  decided 
taste  for  mathematical  pursuits,  as  well  as  for  poetry,  in  which  he 


Bmma'  ,and  CrMes  Poetry.  108 

DMJe  kit  first  essay  in  the  form  of  a  salutary  caution  to  a  school 
girl,  not  to  snlfor  herself  to  be  too  much  elated  by  the  triumph  of 
disnlaying  neir  ribbons  on  her  bonnet.  Some  time  elapsed,  aftw 
he  left  tluB  school,  before  he  could  find  an  oppoitnnity  of  entering 
upon  the  business  he  intended  to  pursue.  A  portion  of  this  time 
was  spent  in  masiBg/  in  his  solitary  walks  by  the  seashore ;  but 
the  greater  part  was  occupied  in  piling  batter  and  cheese  on  the 
quay  at  Aldboroi^h,  under  the  direction  of  his  father,  who  enter- 
tained no  great  opinion  of  idleness,  and  least  of  all  that  which  was 
consecrated  to  poetic  dreams.  This  occupation  was  long  remem- 
bexed  by  the  poet  with  little  satisfaction.  At  length,  in  his  four^ 
teenth  year,  the  long  expected  opportunity  was  presented ;  and  he 
set  forth,  with  a  heavy  heart,  to  become  apprentice  to  a  surgeon  at 
DVickham  Brook.  His  pursuits,  even  there,  were  not  wholly  of  a 
scientific  kind  ;  his  master  distributed  his  time  imi>artially  betwe^i 
the  arts  of  husbandry  and  healing,  and  his  apprentice  was  the  bed- 
fellow and  fellow-labourer  of  his  plough  boy.  In  this  way,  he 
passed  about  two  years  ;  then  he  removed  to  a  more  eligible  situ- 
ation, to  complete  the  term  of  his  apprenticeship  under  the  direc- 
tion of  a  surgeon  at  Woolridge,  a  few  miles  distant  from  his  native 
viDage.  Poetry  still  eontinued  to  occupy  a  large  shtre  of  his  at- 
tention :  he  was  never  much  in  love  with  his  profession,  though  he 
devoted  himself  to  it  with  tolerable  earnestness.  He  found  a  source 
of  inspiration,  which  youthfiil  poets  never  wait  for  long,  in  an  at- 
tachment which  he  here  formed  for  the  niece  of  a  wealthy  fitrmer^ 
who  tweke  years  afterwards  became  his  wife,  and  in  the  mean  time 
stimulated  his  literary  zeal  by  encouragement,  which  proved  in  the 
result  to  be  both  fortunate  and  wise.  A  small  premium  for  a  poem 
oa  the  subject  of  Hope,  was  offered  by  the  proprietor  of  some 
Ladies'  Magazine :  this  prize  it  was  his  fortune  to  gain,  and  the 
success,  trifling  as  it  was,  set  all  the  springs  of  his  poetical  enthusi- 
asm in  motion.  It  was  here,  also,  that  he  published  a  poem,  en- 
titled *  Inebriety,'  a  name  of  no  particular  attraction  ;  this  work  is 
said  to  exhibit  much  &cility  of  versification  and  maturity  of  thought, 
but  attracted  little  notice  at  the  time. 

Mr.  Crabbe's  term  of  apprenticeship  ended  in  1775;  he  then  re- 
turned to  Aldborough,  hoping  to  find  some  means  of  completing  his 
professional  education  in  London ;  but  his  father's  means  were  in- 
adequate to  this  demand,  as  well  as  to  maintaining  him  in  idleness 
at  home :  he  returned,  therefore,  to  his  old  labours  at  the  warehouse, 
which  were  rendered  doubly  irksome  by  new  circumstances  of  do- 
mestic sorrow.  The  habits  of  his  fath^  had  undergone  that  change, 
which  fills  the  cup  of  afiUction  to  the  brim ;  and  the  health  of  his 
mother,  in  whose  happiness  his  own  was  bound  up,  was  sinking 
under  a  fatal  and  quick  decline.  Impelled  less  by  choice  than  a 
sense  of  its  necessity,  he  devoted  himself  with  more  zeal  than  before 
to  the  study  of  his  profession,  and  the  sciences  connected  with  it  ; 
paxticularly  botany,  which  was  then  and  afterwards  bis  favourite 


104  Bvms^Md  OnUibe-s  Poetry. 

puxMiii.  At  feagtfi  his  iBtlidF  {band  the  means  of  Mading  I^sl 
to  London,  with  a  purse  too  slender  to  attend  lectures  or  to  wi^ 
the  hospitals,  and  only  with  the  hope,  as  he  himself  said^  of  picking 
np  a  little  surgical  knowledge  as  chea{rfy  as  he  oould.  In  the  course 
of.a  few  months,  he  returned  to  Aldborough,  but  with  no  propitious 
change  in  his  prospects  or  his  fortune.  There  he  became  assistant 
to  a  surgeon^  who  soon  retired  from  the  village,  and  left  him  at  U- 
berty  to  set  up  for  himself :  but  he  had  a  rivad  in  the  field,  and  his 
own  practice  was  the  least  productive  which  tiie  place  afforded. 
His  patients,  who  saw  his  botanical  researches,  thought  it  unrea- 
sonable  that  they  should  be  called  upon  to  p^r  for  medicines  col- 
lected in  the  fields  and  ditches.  On  the  whole,  his  prospects  were 
not  very  encouraging,  and  not  the  least  of  hia  afflictions  was  a  senses 
of  his  deficiency  in  professional  knowledge  and  skill.  A  transient 
gleam  of  sunshine  broke  out  in  1778,  when  the  Warwickshire  nu* . 
Utia  were  quartered  in  his  neighbourhood,  with  whose  officers,  as 
their  medi^Q  attendant,  he  formed  some  usefiil  intimacies.  He  felty 
however,  that  Aiborough  was  no  place  for  him,  and  resolved  to 
take  the  earliest  opportunity  to  leav^  it.  It  was  late  in  the  year 
i779,  at  the  close  of  a  cold  and  gloomy  day,  when,  as  he  was  wan- 
dering on  the  bleak  cliff  above  the  village,  he  determined  to  aban<- 
don  liis  profession,  and  embark  on  the  uncertain  sea  of  literary  ad* 
venture.  He  stopped  before  a  shallow,  muddy  sheet  of  water,  as 
dark  and  as  desolate  as  his  own  thoughts,  and,as  he  gazed  upon  it, 
resolved  to  go  to  London  and  to  venture  all. 

His  prospects  must  have  indeed  been  melancholy,  to  impel  him 
to  a  resolution,  apparently  so  hopeless.  His  health  was  not  firm, 
the  reception  of  his  poetical  attempts  had  not  been  flattering,  «nd . 
his  nerves  were  iU  calculated  to  wrestle  with  adversity.  There  was 
not  a  single  friend  in  the  metropolis,  on  whom  he  could  rely  for  aid. 
He  had  also  to  endure  the  reproaches  of  his  fstther,  who  ^id  not- 
however,  labour  much  to  change  his  purpose.  The  means  of  affec- 
ting it  were  yet  to  be  found;  his  own  immediate  friends  were  un*- 
able  or  unwilling  to  supply  them,  and  he  applied  to  Mr.  Dudley^ 
North,  to  whom  his  father  had  been  usefiil  in  some  poUtical  can-*. 
vass,  for  the  loan  of  five  pounds.  The  letter,  in  which  he  made 
the  application,  was  ajfterwards  described  by  that  gentleman  as  a 
very  extraordinary  one :  his  request  was  readily  granted ;  and,  with 
three  pounds  in  his  pocket,  a  case  of  surgical  instruments,  and  a 
box  of  clothing,  the  whole  stock  of  his  worldly  fortune,  he  embarked 
on  board  a  little  sloop,  and  took  his  way  to  London. 

It  was  in  the  year  1780,  that  he  reached  that  city;  a  propitious 
period,  as  his  biographer  remarks,  for  an  adventurer  in  poetry,  if 
indeed  the  good  fortune  of  a  poet  can  be  said  to  consist  in  the 
absence  of  a  rivid.  Goldsmith,  Gray  and  Churchill  Were  dead ; 
Johnson  had  long  before  abandoned  poetry,  and  was  drawing  near 
the  close  of  his  eminent  career;  the  genius  of  Cowper,  which 
bloomed,  like  the  witch-hazel,  in  the  late  autumn  of  his  years,  had 


Aow*  ami  CrM^^^  Ptfeir^.  IM 

not  yet  been  revealed;  and  the  echo'of  the  fame  of  Burni  ha 

hardly  cros^  the  Scottish  border.  His  biographer  is^  however^ 
mistaken,  if  he  supposes  that  the  demand  for  poetry  in  the  literary 
maricet  is  governed  by  the  extent  of  the  supply ;  and  who  was  to 
assure  the  young  adventurer,  that  he  could  fill  the  vacant  place  in 
the  achniration  of  the  world  ?  He  came  without  a  patron ;  he  could 
clann  but  a  single  acquaintance  in  Zx)ndon,  and  she  was  the  wife  of 
a  linen  draper  in  Comhill  not  particularly  likely  to  forward  his  lite- 
rary piojects,  though  hind  and  liberal  in  her  attentions.  He  took' 
lodgings  at  the  house  of  a  hairdresser,  near  the  Exchange,  and  set 
himself,  with  a  firm  and  manly  spirit;  about  the  doubtfiil  task  before 
hkn  ;  fiirst  transcribing  the  poetical  pieces  he  brought  with  him  from 
the  country,  composing  one  or  two  dramas  and  essays  in  prose,  and 
labouring  to  improve  his  versification,  and  to  become  fiuniliar  with 
sadh  books  as  he  found  at  his  command.  Some  of  his  intigiates, 
at  this  period,  were  in  circumstances  not  unlike  his  own,  and  were 
simflarly  fortunate  in  their  subsequent  Ufe.  Among  them  was  Mr. 
Bonnycastle,  late  master  of  the  Military  Academy  at  Woolwich, 
and  Isaac  Dalby  and  Reuben  Barrow,  both  mathematicians  of  dis- 
tinguished eminence.  It  deserves  to  be  recorded  to  his  honour, 
that  during  this  period,  while  he  was  tortured  by  anxiety  and  de- 
presised  by  poverty,  he  kept  his  mind  always  fixed  on  the  object  of 
hie  pursuit,  neither  yielding  to  the  sore  temptations  of  adverse  for- 
tune, nor  ever  sinking  in  despondency.  Some  of  his  pieces  were 
offered  to  the  booksellers,  and  were  rejected ;  he  tried  new  subjects, 
and  laboured  still  harder  than  before,  but  with  no  better  success. 
An  anonymous  poem,  called  **  The  Candidate,'  was  published  at 
his  own  charge,  but  found  no  public  welcome;  and  the  foilure  of  his 
bookseller  compiled  him  to  take  refiige  in  the  last  shelter  to  which 
a  sensitive  mind  can  resort,  an  apptication  for  pecuniary  aid  t' 
strangers.  For  this  he  first  applied  to  Lord  North,  but  in  vain ; 
a  sfmilar  appeal  to  Lord  Shdbume  produced  no  answer.  After 
addressing  several  letters  to  that  coarsest  of  illustrious  personages, 
Lc^d  Chancellor  Thurlow,  he  received  a  cold  reply,  purporting  that 
his  Lordship^s  avocations  left  him  no  leisure  t6  read  verses.  In  his 
journal,  written  at  this  time,  he  says :  '  I  have  parted  with  my 
money^  sold  my  wardrobe,  pawned  my  watch,  am  in  debt  to  my 
landlord,  and  finally,  am  at  some  loss  how  to  eat  a  week  longer. 
Another  extract  from  the  same  journal  will  afibrd  an  idea  of  the 
s{ririt  and  temper,  with  which  he  bore  himself  under  these  hard  cir- 
cumstances. "  It  is  the  vilest  thing  in  the  world  to  have  but  one 
co«t.  My  only  one  has  met  with  a  mischance,  and  how  to  manage 
it  is  some  difficulty.  A  confounded  stove's  modish  ornament  caught 
its'  elbottr,  and  rent  it  half  way.  Pinioned  to  the  side  it  came  home, 
and  I  ran  deploring  to  my  loft.  In  the  dilemma,  it  occurred  to  me 
to  tnm  tailor  myself,  but  how  to  get  materials  to  work  with  puzzled 
me,<  At  last  I  went  running  down  in  a  hurry,  with  three  or  four 
sheets  ^  paper  in  my  hand,  and  begged  for  a  needle  and  thread  to 


10&  Bume'  and  OoUt'f  Poetry, 

sew  thera  togetker .  This  finished  my  job^  and,  but  that  ii  ifll  wtmtt^ 
what  thicker^  the  elbow  is  a  good  one  yet/'  The  portion  of  the  jour- 
nal given  in  the  first  volume,  is  quite  valuable,  as  presenting  a  pi(v 
tare  of  a  manly  spirit,  tried  by  a  kind  of  suffi^ng,  which  the  heart 
of  every  one  will  tell  him  is  severe.  There  is  nothing  of  querulous- 
ness  in  it :  no  more  of  despondency,  than  the  circumstanGes  of  his 
situation  could  not  fail  to  excite ;  it  betrays  throughout  the  energies 
of  a  strong  mind,  and  the  tranquility  of*  a  religious  one.  Mr. 
Crabbe's  repeated  applications  to  ex  officio  patrons  having  thos 
proved  fruitless,  he  resolved  to  make  one  final  effort :  and  he  forta* 
nalely  directed  himself  to  one,  who  was  as  much  above  the  heredi- 
tary 07  created  peers  around  him  in  generous  feeling,  as  he  was  in 
the  miraculous  endowments  of  his  mind. .  He  addressed  the  fol- 
lowing letter  to  Edmund  Burke. 

"  *  Sir,  I  am  sensible,  that  I  need  even  your  talents  to  apolo^ze  ibr  the 
freedom  I  now  take ;  but  I  have  a  plea  which,  however  simply  urged,  will^ 
with  a  mind  like  yours.  Sir,  procure  me  pardon  :  I  am  one  ^f  these  <Mit- 
casts  on  the  world,  who  are  without  a  friend,  without  employment,  and 
without  bread. 

"  'Pardon  me  a  short  prefeice.  I  had  a  partial  father,  who  gave  me  a 
better  education  than  his  broken  fortune  would  have  allowed;  and  a 
better  than  was  necessary,  as  he  could  give  me  that  only.  I  was  designed 
for  the  profession  of  physic ;  but  not  having  wherewithall  to  complete 
the  requisite  studies,  the  design  but  served  to  convince  me  of  a  parent's 
affection,  and  the  error  it  had  occasioned.  In  April  last  I  came  to  London, 
with  three  pounds,  and  flattered  myself  this  would  be  sufficient  to  supply 
me  with  the  common  necessaries  of  life,  till  my  abilities  would  procure  me 
more ;  of  these  I  had  the  highest  opinion,  and  a  poetical  vanity  coa« 
tributed  to  my  delusion.  I  knew  little  of  the  world,  and  had  read  books 
only  ;  I  wrote,  and  fancied  perfection  in  my  compositions ;  when  I  wanted 
bread  they  promised  me  affluence,  and  soothed  me  with  dreams  of  repu* 
tation,  whilst  my  appearance  subjected  me  to  contempt. 

*'  ^  Time,  reflection  and  want  have  shewed  me  my  mistake.  I  see  my 
trifles  in  that  which  I  think  the  true  light ;  and  whilst  I  deem  them  such, 
have  yet  the  opinion  that  holds  them]  superior  to  the  conunon  run  of 
poetical  publications. 

"  *  I  had  some  knowledge  of  the  late  Mr.  Naussau,  the  brother  of  Lord 
Rochford  ;  in  consequence  of  which  I  asked  his  Lordship's  permission  to 
inscribe  my  little  work  to  him.  Knowing  it  to  be  free  from  all  political 
allusions  and  personal  abuse,  it  was  no  very  material  point  to  me  to  whom 
it  was  dedicated.  His  Lordship  thought  it  none  to  him,  and  obligingly 
consented  to  my  request. 

*' '  I  was  told  that  a  subscription  would  be  the  more  profitable  method 
for  me,  and  therefore  endeavoured  to  circulate  copies  of  the  enclosed 
Proposals. 

"  '  I  am  afraid,  Sir,  I  di^ust  you  with  this  very  dull  narration,  but 
believe  me  punished  in  the  misery  that  occasions  it.  You  will  conclude 
that  during  this  time,  I  must  have  been  at  more  expense  than  I  could 
afford ;  indeed  the  most  parsimonious  could  not  have  avoided  it.  The 
printei'  deceived  me,  and  my  little  business  has  had  every  delay.  The 
people  with  whom  I  live  i>erceive  my  situation,  and  find  me  to  be  irtdt- 


gent  and  \dthout  friends.  About  ten  days  einee,  I  wu  oompattedto  give 
a  note  for  seven  pounds,  to  avoid  an  amst  for  about  double  that  sum 
nvfaach  I  owe.  1  wrote  to  every  friend  I  had,  but  my  friends  are  poor 
likewise ;  the  time  of  payment  approached,  and  I  ventured  to  represent. 
my  case  to  Lord  Rochford.  I  begged  to  be  credited  for  this  sum  till 
I  received  it  of  my  subscribers,  which  I  believe  will  be  within  one  month ; 
but  to  this  letter  I  had  no  reply,  and  I  have  probably  offended  by  my  im- 
portunity. Having  used  every  honest  means  in  vain,  I  yesterday  con- 
feseed  my  inability,  and  obtained  with  much  entreaty,  and  as  the  greatest' 
favour,  a  week's  lorbearance,  when  I  am  positively  told,  that  I  must  pay 
the  money,  or  prepare  for  a  prison. 

**  *  You  will  guess  the  purpose  of  so  long  an  introduction.    I  appeal  to 
you,  Sir,  as  a  good,  and,  let  me  add,  a  great  man*.    I  have  no  other  pre-  * 
tensions  to  yotir  favour  than  that  I  am  an  unhappy  one.    It  is  not  easy 
to  support  the  thotightB  of  confinement ;  and  I  am  coward  enough  to  dread 
saoh  an  end  to  my  suspense. 

** ' Cftn  you,  Sir,  in  any  degree,  aid  me  with  propriety? — Will  you  ask 
any  demonstrations  of  my  veracity  ?  I  have  imposed  upon  myself,  but  I 
have  been  guilty  of  no  other  imposition.  Let  me,  if  possible,  interest 
your  compassion.  I  know  those  of  rank  and  fortune  are  teazed  with  fre- 
quent petitions,  and  are  compelled  to  refuse  the  requests  even  of  those 
whom  they  know  to  be  in  distress :  it  is,  therefore,  with  a  distant  hope  I 
venture  to  solicit  such  a  favour :  but  you  will  forgive  me,  Sir,  if  you  do 
not  think  proper  to  relieve.  It  is  impossible  that  sentiments  like  yours 
can  proceed  from  any  but  a  humane  and  generous  heart. 

^^  *  I  will  call  upon  you,  l^r,  to-morrow,  and  if  I  have  not  the  happineas 
to  obtain  credit  with  you,  I  must  submit  to  my  fate.  My  existence  is  a 
pom  to  myself,  and  every  one  near  and  dear  to  me  is  distressed  in  my  dis- 
tresses. My  connexions,  once  the  source  of  happixiess,  now  embitter  the 
reverse  of  my  fortune,  and  I  have  only  to  hope  a  speedy  end  to  a  life  so 
unpromisingly  begun :  in  which  (though  it  ought  not  to  be  boasted  of)  I 
can  reap  some  consolation  from  looking  to  the  end  of  it,  I  am.  Sir,  with 
the  greatest  respect^  your  obedient  and  mosf  humble  servant,  George 
Crabbe.'  '* 

It  is  not  easy  to  read  any  thing  relating  to  Edmund  Burke, 
without  pausing  for  a  moment,  to  indulge  in  the  thousand  recollec- 
tions, which  gather  round  his  name.  He  was  a  man,  whose  like 
has  been  seldom  seen  in  the  sphere  of  human  intelligences,  and  will 
not  soon  be  seen  again.  Almost  in  his  youth,  he  rose  to  that  elevated 
point  of  philosophical  r^utation,  of  which  his  adopted  country  has 
not  many  examples  to  show  ;  and  shortly  afterwards,  he  stood 
without  a  rival  in  the  long  line  of  her  living  or  departed  orators  ; — 
beyond  and  above  them  all  in  that  affluence  of  thought,  deep  practical 
sagacity,  and  surpassing  glory  of  rhetorical  ornament  which  make 
the  voice  of  real  eloquence  as  commanding  in  future  ages,  as  in  the 
moment  of  its  most  important  victories.  He  combing  the  fervour 
of  the  most  generous  enthusiasm,  with  unerring  insight  into  all  the 
springs  and  sources  of  human  character  and  action  ;  deep  scorn  of 
all  Uutt  was  low  and  sordid  with  constant  solicitude  to  advance  the 
weD*being  of  his  race :  and  it  might  almost  he  considered  a  triumph 


im  Bums*  and  Cndfbe'a  PtHty: 

of  oar  nature^  that  one  so  higUy  gifUd  should  have  l>eeti  so  disititer- 
ested  aad  confiding^  so  earnest  in  the  cause  of  human  happiness  and 
right.  It  may  be,  that  some  of  his  political  views^  weighed  in  onr 
balances  and  measured  by  our  standards,  are  found  wanting  ;  but 
such  a  mind  could  not  but  be  noble  in  its  very  errors;  they  were  • 
errors  of  judgment  and  not  imperfections  of  the  heart  :  they  wet^ 
the  wreaths  of  mist,  which  intercept  the  glories  of  the  morning  sun, 
while  they  are  kindled  into  beauty  by  its  light.  It  was  indeed  a 
generous  and  manly  spirit,  to  which  the  affecting  appeal  of  Che 
young  adventurer  was  made.  Men,  who  are  engaged  in  conducting 
the  destinies  of  nations,  have  rarely  leisure  to  attend  to  individual' 
concerns ;  the  wh(^ale  good  which  occupies  their  thoughts  seems 
to  acquit  them  of  the  obUgation  to  be  benevolent  by  retail.  At  this  ' 
period,  the  mind  of  Mr.  Burke  was  much  absorbed  in  the  fierce 
struggles  of  parliamentary  war.  His  pecuniary  circumstances  were 
by  no  means  those  of  affluence :  of  the  pride  or  vanity  of  being 
deemed  a  patron,  he  had  absolutdy  none;  his  charities  were  so 
nnobtrusive,  that  he  evidently  thought  them  nothing  more  than 
daily  acts  of  duty.  There  was  nothing  very  peculiar  in  the  circum- 
stances of  Mr.  Crabbe ;  claims  of  equal  strength,  so  &r  as  his  could 
then  be  known,  might  not  unfrequently  be  held  forth  by  others  : 
he  presented  himself  to  Mr.  Burke  only  as  a  youngman  of  merit  in 
distress.  '^  He  went,"  says  his  son,  *^  into  Mr.  Burke's  room,  a 
po(Hr  young  adventurer,  spumed  by  the  opulent  and  rejected  by  the 
puUishers,  his  last  shilling  gone,  and  all  but  his  last  hope  with  it : 
he  came  out  virtually  seizure  of  almost  all  the  good  fortune  that,  by 
successive  steps, afterwards  fell  to  his  lot:  his  genius  acknowledged 
by  one  whose  verdict  could  not  be  questioned, — ^his  character  and 
manners  appreciated  and  approved  by  a  noble  and  capacious  heart, 
whose  benevolence  knew  no  limits  but  its  power — ^that  of  a  giant  in 
intellect,  who  was,  in  feeling,  an  unsophisticated  child, — a  bright 
examine  of  the  close  afBnity  between  superlative  talents,  and  the 
warmth  of  the  generous  afiections.''  Mr.  Burke  immediately 
received  ham  under  his  roof,  and  proceeded  to  examine  his  compo-  ' 
sitions,  with  the  view  of  selecting  a  portion  of  them  for  the  press. 
"  The  Library,"  and  "  The  Village,"  appeared  to  him  best  suited 
to  his  purpose ;  he  took  the  manuscripts  himself  to  Dodsley, 
and  gave  the  whole  weight  cS  his  critical  decision  in  their  iavour. 
The  worthy  bookseller  indeed  declined  to  take  the  hazard  of  the 
publication,  but  used  every  eflfort  to  procure  for  diem  a  rapid  sale, 
and  uniformly  treated  the  author  with  a  liberality,  which  was  always 
gratefolly  acknowledged.  Of  these  poems,  "  The  Library "  was 
published  first,  and  was  shortly  afterwards  followed  by  ''  The 
Village." 

The  liberality  of  Mr.  Burke  was  equally  active  and  unwearied.  ' 
At  his  table,  Mr.  Crabbe  beeame  intimately  known  to  that  iHus- 
trious'circle,  of  which  his  friend  was  the  chief  ornament, — to  Rey- 
nolds, Fox,  and  Johnson,«—all  of  whom  aj^ar  to  have  appreciated ' 


i 


Bm%9?  tmd  CnMe*s  Poeity.  109 

ajiilitiea,  and  to  have  treated  him  with  marked  tes'peei  and  kind-* 
ness.  Johnson,  in  particular,  whoee  critical  word  was  law,  read 
''The  ViUi^e"  in  manuscript,  and  pronounced  upon  it  a  panegyric, 
of  which  he  was  never  very  prodigal.  The  views  of  life  which  it 
presented,  so  similar,  as  we  have  already  intimated,  to  his  own» 
may  have  been  in  some  degree  the  cause  of  his  complacency;  but 
however  this  may  have  been,  the  eulogy  was  just ;  and  when  John- 
son applauded,  the  lesser  critics  felt  entirely  safe  in  joining  in  the 
chorus.  Even  the  Lord  Chancellor,  to  whom  Crabbe,  after  the 
rejection  of  his  application,  had  addressed  a  severe  poetical  remon- 
strance^ now  requested  an  interview,  at  which  he  addressed  him 
with  the  words5  ^'  The  first  poem  you  sent  to  me.  Sir,  I  ought  to 
have  noticed, — and  I  heartily  forgive  the  second."  He  at  the  same 
time  requested  the  satirist  to  accept  a  bank  note  of  one  hundred 
pouods^  and  assured  him,  that  when  he  should  take  orders,  which, 
by  the  advice  of  Mr.  Burke,  he  was  about  to  do,  more  substantial 
evidences  of  regard  should  be  afforded  him.  In  the  year  1781  his 
purpose  was  effected.  He  was  ordained  as  a  priest,  and  ^became  a 
curate  to  the  rector  of  his  native  village.  On  returning  to  Aid- 
borough,  under  circumstances  far  different  firom  those  in  which  he 
left  it^  his  reception  was  of  a  kind,  which  confirmed  bis  early  im- 
pressiona  of  the  character  of  rural  life.  His  poetical  reputation 
was  not  one,  which  the  villagers  were  well  calculated  to  appreciate ; 
those  jealousies  and  heartburnings,  which  are  sure  to  follow  the  pos* 
aessor  of  unexpected  good  fortune,  made  his  residence  uncomfortable ; 
his  excellent  mother,  to  whom  he  not  unfrequently  alludes  in  his 
waitings  with  a  tenderness  and  feeling,  resembling  Uiose  with  which 
Pope  has  preserved  the  memory  of  the  guardian  of  his  early  years 
had  sunk  beneath  affliction  and  disease ;  and  his  father  bad 
diminished  the  few  comforts  of  his  home  by  an  alliance  with  one 
little  calculated!  to  repair  the  loss.  After  a  brief  sojourn,  Mr. 
CraU)e  accepted  the  place  of  domestic  chaplain  to  the  Duke  of 
Rutland^  ana  took  up  his  residence  at  Belvoir  Castle.  Some  cir- 
cuiDstances  are  related  by  his  biographer,  which  tend  to  show  that 
he  was  not  inclined  to  regret  the  separation  from  his  patron,  which 
took  place  shortly  after,  on  the  departure  of  the  Duke  to  assume 
the  post  of  Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland. 

Just  at  this  moment,  the  Lord  Chancellor  presented  him  with 
two  small  livings.  He  was  now  united  in  marriage  to  the  early 
friend,  who  had  watched  his  progress  to  competency  and  feme 
through  many  weary  years.  Not  long  afterwards,  his  old  friend 
the  Lord  Chancellor,  at  the  instigation  of  the  Duchess  of  Rutland, 
and  sorely  against  his  inclination,  gave  him  the  living  of  Muston, 
in  the  vicinity  of  Belvoir  Castle.  On  the  first  suggestion  of  this 
exchange^  the  keeper  of  the  royal  oonscienee  had  roundly  sworn, 
that  be  would  make  it  for  no  man  in  England  ;  but  a  lady  was  the 
intercessor  in  this  instance,  so  that  th»e  was  no  infraction  of  the 
yow«    Hece^  in  1785,  he  publishad  the  "  Newspqpar/'  a  brief  and 


1  lO  Bmi8*  9n4  CrMe's  Poetry. 

not  yevy  original  sathe ;  and  tben  8onk  into  a  r^poae,  ooix^gted 
with  wbich  the  slumber  of  the  8le^>er8  of  Ephesujs  was  of  very  fanef 
duratiou.  It  was  not  until  the  expiration  of  twenty-two  yearsi  that 
his  other  poems  bogao  to  be  issued  from  the  press. 

TUs  perseyerui^  silencey  on  the  part  of  one^  who  had  no  reaaoa 
to  complain  of  a  want  of  public  fevour,  has  occasioned  much-  specn- 
lation ;  we  thinks  however^  that  it  is  more  easily  accounted  for  tiban 
his  subsequent  re-appearance.  It  is  very  obvious^  from  the  sketch 
of  his  character  given  in  this  volume,  that  he  had  no  overweening 
confidence  in  hia  own  powers :  the  encouragement  of  Burke  ana 
Johnson,  to  say  nothing  of  the  pressure  of  severe  necessity,  had 
overborne  his  scruples  hitherto ;  b«t  that  spur  to  effort  was  removed, 
and  he  had  acquired  a  capital  of  fame  sufficient  for  his  wishes. 
Men  of  sensitive  minds  are  not  unfrequently  less  reluctant  to  see 
their  stock  diminishing  by  time,  than  to  risk  it  on  a  doubtful  ven- 
ture ;  they  f<^w  the  example  of  Pope's  &ther,  who  retired  from 
business  in  the  prime  of  life,  deposited  all  his  property  in  a  stout 
iron  chest,  and  went  on  expending,  until  his  life  and  fortune  came 
to  an  end  together.  Mr.  Crabbe  was  not  one  of  those  who  look  on 
poetry  as  pastime.  There  were  various  other  engagements  to  which 
he  more  readily  inclined;  and  he  appears,  also,  to  have  been  at  all 
times  scarupulous  to  permit  nothing  else  to  interfere  with  the 
rigorous  disi^arge  of  duty.  .Goldsmith's  beautifol  deseriptipn  of 
the  religious  character  of  the  priest  of  Sweet  Auburn,  would  not 
have  been  inapplicable  to  him.  He  was  always  found  at  the  bedj»id# 
of  the  sick  and  dying ;  his  parishioners  unanimously  accorded  to 
him  the  touching  eulogy,  that  ^  no  sympathy  was  like  his/  During 
the  whole  period  of  his  duties  as  a  country  clergymaa«  he  gnu 
tuitottsly  gave  to  all,  the  benefits  of  bis  old  professional  skill ;  and 
his  poetical  reputation,  great  as  it  is,  seems  valueless  in  the  compa* 
risen  with  that  which  he  merits  for  the  assiduous  discharge  of  every 
moral  and  religious  duty.  Ekffthly  fame  has  no  rewards  to  oifer, 
like  those  which  follow  him,  who  ministers  with  fidelity,  howwer 
humbly,  at  the  altar  of  God.  Mr.  Crabbe  combined  high  intel- 
lectual gifts  with  an  almpst  child-like  simplicity.  As  a  preacher>  he 
was  eloquent  and  impressive,  and  though  very  regardless  of  cere- 
mony, entirely  free  from  affectation.  *^  I  inust  have  s<Hne  money, 
gentlemen,''  was  the  pubUc  notice  which  his  parishioners  received 
of  the  approach  of  tithe  day.  If  the  evenitig  began  to  fall  before 
the  conclusion  of  his  discourse,  he  would  remove  to  a  pew  near  a 
window,  and  stand  up<m  a  bench  to  fmish  it;  these  were  not  indi^ 
caticms  of  a  contempt  of  ordinary  fcarms^  but  of  the  forgetfiihiess 
Gi  one,  who  was  too  sincere  to  be  solicitous  about  his  manner. 

We  have  just  intimated,  that  Mr.  Crabbe  had  no  undue  ooofi- 
iaoatg  in  his  own  powers :  he  was  at  all  times  too  ready  to  follow 
the  advice  oi  others>  whose  capacity  and  judgment  w^e  not  eqiial 
to  his  own;  and  the  w<»rld  is  probably  a  loser  by  this  infirmity. 
Botany  was  always  Ihs  fevourile  pursuit;  he  was  scarcely  aver  with- 


Bwm'  Md  OrahW»  Poeify.  Ill 

ovt  ft  'ftowel*  in  his  hand^  when  the  ireather  permitted  ^1^  to  go 
abroad ;  and  he  emffloyed  himself  for  some  years  in  pi«!paring  an 
Msay  on  this  subject.  It  was  written  in  English^  and  this  the  Vioe 
Master  of  Trinity  College  considered  as  nothing  less  than  high 
treason  against  the  majesty  of  the  Latin  tongue.  This  absurd  sug- 
gestion <usoonraged  him^  and  the  work  was  never  complelea. 
Among  his  other  avocations^  was  that  of  writing  romances^  far 
which  he  was  in  some  respects  eminently  fitted ;  no  man  surpassed 
him  in  descriptive  power  and  keen  scrutiny  of  charaeter,  and  we 
cannot  doubt  that  his  delineations  would  have  been  full  of  energy 
and  truth.  As  ill  fortune  would  have  it,  these  two  fell  victims  to 
domestic  criticism.  One  of  them  was  entitled  ^' Widow  Grey/'  but 
of  ^his  we  have  no  memorial.  A  second  bore  the  name  of  ^^  Regi- 
nald Olanshawe^  or  the  man  who  commanded  success."  It  evened 
with  a  description  of  a  wretched  room,  which  his  wife  pronounced 
faifmor  in  effect  to  similar  descriptions  in  his  poems ;  on  this  judi- 
eions  hint,  he  made  a  bonfire  of  the  whole.  The  early  eflbrts  of 
this  lady  to  induce  him  to  cultivate  his  poetical  powers «  are  hardly 
sufficient  to  atone  for  her  fotal  gift  of  criticism  in  the  present  in- 
stance. Another  sacrifice  of  the  same  kind  was  oflfered  on  his  own 
account,  perhaps  in  order  to  show  his  gratitude  for  the  advice  of 
his  friends,  by  following  it  beyond  both  the  spirit  and  the  letter. 
This  consisted  of  a  series  of  poems  which  he  had  ofiered  to  Dodsley 
who  refused  them. 

We  may  as  well  say  something  here  of  Mr.  Crabbe's  domestic 
character.  He  was  not  without  severe  trials;  for  more  them  twenty 
years  before  her  death,  his  wife  was  visited  with  severe  disease, 
which  seems,  though  her  son  makes  little  direct  allusion  to  the 
subject,  to  have  cast  a  partial  shadow  over  her  mind;  His  <x)n- 
staxtt  and  attentive  kindness  to  her,  when  kindness  was  ahnost 
wearied  or  repelled,  is  a  beautiful  trait ;  and  the  recollections  of 
his  son  are  fiill  of  many  such  amiable  qualities.  To  the  children, 
his  approach  was  always  a  signal  for  aeltght ;  benevolence  was  in 
foct  Ins  distinguishing  characteristic ;  he  entered  with  a  mild  and 
delicate  interest  into  the  feelings  of  every  one  around  him.  Men 
are  apt  to  forget,  when  they  speak  of  extraordinaiy  virtue^  that 
they  in  general  refer  to  some  single  act,  or  occasional  exhibition 
of  exalted  qualities :  but  the  virtue,  after  all,  which  passes  that  of 
martyrs,  flows  from  a  living  and  perennial  spring,  flashing  ever  in 
the  sunlight  of  a  cheerful  temper,  and  sending  its  fertilizing  stveam 
thiroi^  a&  the  dark  places  and  deserts  of  the  way.  **  I  can  still  see 
him,'*  9a3rs  his  son,  *'in  the  eve  of  memory,-— hk  fatherly  coumle* 
nance  unmixed  widi  any  of  the  less  loveable  expressions,  that  in 
too  many  &ces  obscure  that  character,  but  preeminently  J^atkerly : 
eottveying  the  idea  of  kindness,  intellect  and  purity ;  has  manner 

Kve,  manly  and  cheerful,  in  unison  with  his  high  and  c^en  fore« 
id?  his  very  attitudes^  whether  as  he  sat  absorbed  in  the  arranffe* 
ment  of  his  minerals,  shells  and  inseets,-^Kir  as  he  laboured  in  his 


lis  Bwms'  and  Crahbe^i  Poeiry. 

garden,  lintil  his  natunilly  pale  complexion  aoqnired  a  tinge  ethmh 
healthy  red;  or  as  coming  lightly  towards  us  with  some  uneicpected 
present,  his  smile  of  indescribable  benevolence  spoke  exultation  in 
the  foretaste  of  our  raptures." 

It  would  be  of  little  interest  to  dwell  upon  Mr.  Crabbe's  changes 
of  residence,  or  other  circumstances,  which  are  stated  with  consi- 
derable minuteness  by  his  son :  we  pass  therefore  to  the  period, 
when  his  long  silence  was  broken,  and  he  again  appeared  to  revive 
and  confirm  the  original  impression  of  his  power.  In  the  year 
1806,  he  had  nearly  completed  his  ^^  Parish  RegUter"  for  publica- 
tion. Several  years  before,  Mr.  Fox  had  promised  to  revise  his 
publications,  and  to  afibrd  him  the  advantage  of  his  critical  sug- 
gestions. The  career  of  that  great  man  was  now  drawing  to  a 
close ;  but  he  readily  renewed  his  promise,  and  it  gives  additional 
interest  to  this  poem  to  know,  that  it  employed  his  mind  almost  in 
his  last  hoifrs.  In  1807,  it  appeared,  together  with  ''Sir  Eustace 
Grey,"  the  "  Birth  of  Flattery,"  and  other  poems.  Three  years 
afterwards,  appeared  the  ''The  Borough;"  this  was  succeeded  in 
1812  by  the  "Tales  in  Verse,"  and  in  1819  by  the  "Tales  of  the 
Hall,"  the  last  of  his  publications. 

It  has  been  already  intimated,  that  there  is  a  remarkable  difier- 
ence  between    Crabbe's  early  poems,  and  those  of  his  maturer 
years :  both  have  defects  and  excellencies  of  their  own;  the  first 
are  far  superior  to  the  later  ones  in  polished  beauty  of  versification, 
'  while  they  are  less  marked  by  those  traits,  which  distinguish  him 
from  most  of  the  other  poets  of  his  country.     The  circumstances, 
which  gave  a  sad  and  distorted  colouring  to  his  early  views  of  life 
and  manners,  tended  very  strongly  to  impair  the  efiect  of  his  first 
productions ;  they  excite  our  feelings  less  powerfiilly,  because  we' 
know  that  the  misery  is  partly  of  his  own  making.     If  a  man 
choose  the  shady  side  of  the  way,  he  will  naturally  find  occasion  to 
complain  of  the  absence  of  the  sunbeams ;  but  he  will  surely  meet 
with  little  sympathy  from  those,  who  feel  that  there  is  no  necessity 
for  walkmg  in  the  dark.     In  the  long  interval  which  elapsed  before 
his  re-appearance  as  a  writer,  his  circumstances  had  become  ma- 
terially altered  for  the  better,  and  his  views  and  feeUngs  had  under- 
gone a  corresponding  change:  he  was  in  the  enjoyment  of  a  com^ 
tent  fortune;  assiduously  engaged  in  that  discharge  of  duty,  which 
brings  with  it  an  exceeding  great  reward,  and  possessed  of  some 
leisure  to  devote  to  that  study  of  mankind,  which  can  only  be  pur- 
sued by  the  contented  and  tne  tranquil.     The  miserable  man,  in- 
stead of  studying  others,  dwells  upon  his  own  impulses  and  feelings, 
and  from  these  infers  how  others  think  and  act  and  feel ;  and  there 
are  few  who  do  not  wonder  at  the  alterations  in  the  aspect  of  Uie 
world  around  them,  as  their  spirits  rise  or  fall.  Mr^  Craobe  is  said 
to  have  remarked,  that  he  derived  less  pleasure  from  the  contem- 
plation of  a  beautiful  prospect,  than  from  standing  in  the  l%hway, 
to  watch  the  faces  of  the  passers  by ;  and  the  remark,  we  think, 
serves  to  afford  an  explanation  of  the  character  of  his  later  writings. 


Bitm9*  and  CrMe's  Pfmtry.  113 

Nalmi  beauty  exoHes  but  a  gmaU.  share  of  his  onthusiasin ;  it  is 
rtea  £>r  him  to  dwell  on  any  iovely  scene^  though  he  occasionally 
dofioribea  those  of  an  f^posite  character  with  great  vividness :  with 
the  exception  of  the  ocean,  with  which  many  of  the  associations  of 
his  childhood  were  connected,  and  whose  changing  aspects  he  por- 
trays with  remarkable  force  of  colouring,  the  grand  and  beautiful  in 
nature  have  few  charms  for  him.  Motives, — ^feeUngs, — passions, — 
all  thi^  relates  to  human  character  and  action^ — ^these  are  the  points 
wjiich  he  seizes  on  with  a  master's  hand,  and  unfolds  with  a  stem 
eo^gy  and  tnitii,  which  convince  us  that  he  is  engaged  with.no 
creations  of  fimcy,  but  is  describing  what  he  has  actually  seen  and 
stndied.  No  English  poet  since  the  time  of  Shakspeare  has  painted 
those  diversities  of  character,  which  one  meets  in  the  ordinary 
intercourse  of  life,  with  equal  fidelity  or  with  equal  effect.  He  sees 
them  .not  through  a  distorted  medium,  nor  within  the  shade  of  in» 
tervening  objects:  he  has  obtained  that  point  of  philosophical  ele- 
vation, neither  so  lofty  as  to  confuse  the  sight,  nor  so  low  as  tp 
oonfiae  it,  where  every  object  appears  in  a  true  light  and  in  its  just 
proporti(ms ;  the  results  of  his  observation  are  neither  thii;igs  of 
speculation  nor  of  fancy,  but  the  strong,  distinct,  vivid  portraitures 
of  classes  of  our  race.  ^^-^  ,^ 

:Mr.  Grabbe  is  certainly  entitled  to  the  praise  of  a  reformer., 
Before  his  day,  no  poet  would  have  dreamed. of  resorting  to  humble 
life  for.  any  thing  beyond  a  theme  of  ludicrous  caricatijpre,  or  the 
personages  of  a  Beggar!s  Opera.    Even  at  the  present  tune,  critics 
are  apt  to. shake  their  heads  with  looks  of  peculiar  wisdom,  when 
they  come  in  contact  with  such  innovations:  they  are  willing  to 
admit  that  *  The  Borough '  is  well  enough  in  its  way,  but  deem  the 
effiHTt  to  invest  such  subjects  with  poetical  attraction  as  hopeless  as 
to  draw  the  living  waters  from  the  rock.    The  j^ts  themselves 
have  yielded  to  this  prejudice,  and,  instead  of  copymg  from  nature, 
when  they  wish  to  introduce  a  peasant,  have  made  him  as  unKke 
reality,  as  is  the  waxen  image  to  the  animated  frame ;  the  man  of 
their  .creation  has  no  affinity  with  merely  mortal  flesh  and  blood. 
We  might  as  well  expect  in  real  life  to  meet  a  phcenix,  as  one  of 
their  sentimental  swains,  musing  in  rapture  as  he  goes  forth  to  his 
daily  task,  or  following  the  plough  with  unutterable  joy  and  glory. 
We  know  that  there  is  enough  in  humble  life  which  has  no  claims 
to  the  title  of  poetical,  and  so  there  is  in  every  other  condition ; 
but  we  are  not  sure,  that  the  materials  of  poetry  are  not  more 
abundant  in  a  lowly,  than  in  an  elevated  sphere ;  for  feeling  is  there 
unfettered  by  those  conventional  restraints,  which  operate  like  law 
on  natural  freedom:,  the  stem  rebuke  of  opinion,  which  has  as 
much  power  over  those  who  move  in  the  elevated  social  walks,  as 
the  eye  of  the  keeper  over  the  madman,  loses  its  authority;  passion 
walks  abroad  without  control,  aud  the  reluctant  step  of  the  slave  is 
exchanged,  for  the  free  and  elastic  movements  ,of  the  mountaineer. 
So  it  is  with  the  utterance  of  deep  emotions ;  the  natural  expression 

voir.jii.  (1834.)  NO.  I.  I 


H4  SmM*  4uut  Crabhe'€  Poetry, 

of  feeling  is  never  vulgar^  and  tliMe  iviio  deem  it  aO|  Aem  aotf  that 
they  do  not  know  what  they  oondemn.  When  Soott,  in  his  to- 
mances,  puts  the  most  energetic  and  affecting  language  into  the 
mouths  of  his  milettered  personages,  he  is  entirely  true  to  natuse ; 
the  gipsy's  stem  execration  of  the  vain  and  unfeeling  Bertram^  the 
language  of  Edie  Ochiltree,  in  the  fearful  night  at  Halket-head,-*- 
the  eloquence  mik  which  the  rude  and  generoas  HigMamd  outlaw 
pours  out  the  ^notions  of  his  inmost  heart, — ^who  can  for  a  moment 
douht  that  these  are  natural  ?  On  the  contrary,  it  is  nothing  but 
their  truth  which  is  the  secret  of  dieir  power ;  and  the  same  sim- 
p^citj  and  truth  are  the  only  ageats  which  produce  the  wonders 
Attributed  to  Indian  eloquence. 

It  is  true  thaft  the  poet,  who  confines  himself  to  the  eschibition  of 
humble  life  merely,  can  hardly  expect  a  willing  audience.  Our  ki«- 
terest  is  so  much  absorbed  by  the  f(»rtunes  of  the  great,  that  it 
seems  almost  like  presumption  to  ask  it  for  the  little ;  the  writers 
cf  romance  have  been  well  aware  of  this  prepossession,  and  have 
employed  it  for  their  own  purposes :  we  see  tlieir  heroes  decorated 
with  all  the  ornaments  of  rank  and  accomplishments  and  tide,  and 
bow  down  to  them,  as  a  matter  of  course.  Mr.  Burke  says  that 
this  is  natural ;  it  certainly  is  second  nature.  Perhaps  the  world 
will  in  time  grow  wise  enough  to  reserve  that  admiration  for  the 
exalted  qualities  of  the  heart  and  intellect,  which  has  hitherte  been 
lavished  on  adventitious  ones ;  but  that  miUenium  has  not  yet 
begun.  Undoubtedly,  the  distinctions  which  social  life  in&llibly 
creates  are  not  to  be  disregarded,  but  they  may  be  seen  with  a 
more  just  and  equal  eye ;  the  observer  of  human  nature  need  Bot 
forget  the  high,  while  contemplating  the  lowly ;  but  he  will  do  well 
to  look  abroad,  when  the  oudines  of  the  trees  and  mountains  are 
distinctly  marked  on  the  clear  blue  sky,  and  not  merely  when  they 
are  magnified  bv  the  gorgeous  drapery  of  mist.  When  all  the  ex- 
halations of  prejudice  and  of  fashion  shall  have  passed  away,  the 
moral  interest  will  be  more  equally  distributed  among  the  diflkrent 
conditions  of  life.  The  simple  energy  and  truth  of  Crabbe  will  be 
more  valued  by  the  many,  dian  they  have  been  heretofore;  if  his 
intellectual  vision  does  not,  like  that  of  the  most  glorious  of  the 
sons  of  light,  comprehend  all  space,  it  will  be  acknowledged  to 
be  keen,  wide,  and  faithfol.  Shakspeare,  from  his  watch-tower, 
caught  every  change  of  many-coloured  life ;  the  great  volume  of  our 
nature  was  wide  open  before  him ;  and  whether  he  unveils  the 
humble  bosom,  or  describes  the  fierce  struggles  of  jealousy,  am- 
bition or  remorse,  or  the  sorrow  quickened  into  madness  of  the 
Credulous  old  king,  no  one  ever  thought  cf  doubting  that  the  por- 
traiture was  real.  Crabbe  generally  aspired  to  no  such  wide  extent 
of  observation,  though,  when  he  has  attempted  it,  his  success  is 
complete ;  he  saw  and  studied  all  the  beings  around  him  with  no 
less  interest  and  care  than  he  pursued  his  researches  into  the  se- 
crets of  inanimate  nature ;   and  what  he  undertakes  to  describe. 


SkperMtioM  9f  Seotlmtd,  115 

aeitiMT  Scott  nor  Sluikspeare  oould  haive  painted  better.  His  pur- 
pose is  a  moral  one;  he  never  aims  to  dazzle  or  to  please;* he 
conceals  no  defect^  softens  no  deformity,  and  aims  not  to  exagge- 
catc  a  single  beauty ;  he  makes  few  sacrifices  on  the  altar  of  fas- 
tidioos  taste :  whoever  admires  him,  admires  him  for  his  plain  truth 
and  manly  power. 

For  many  years  before  his  death,  Mr.  Crabbe  underwent  severe 
tortures  from  the  tie  douloureuxy  and  the  rapid  approaches  of  in- 
firmity gave  warning,  in  the  beginning  of  the  year  1831,  that  the 
periiKl  ef  his  departure  was  at  hand.  ^  Mine,'  says  he,  ^  is  an  old 
man's  natural  infirmity,  and  that  same  old  man  creeps  upon  me 
more  and  more.'  Sarly  in  February  of  that  year,  he  died,  after  a 
few  days  of  great  suifering.  The  closing  scene  was  marked  by  the 
same  religious  hope,  which  had  shed  a  beautiful  lustre  over  his 
usefiil  said  pfsotracted  life.  He  retained  to  the  last,  in  the  intervals 
of  pain;  that  calnmess  and  serenity,  which  viewed  without  terror 
Ae  event  which  he  felt  to  be  approaching;  and  he  exhibited 
tiiroaghoiit  that  interest  in  others,  which  had  bound  many  hearts 
to  bis.  The  testimonies  ot  respect,  that  were  freely  paid  to  his 
memory  by  the  people  of  his  neighbourhood,  were  of  that  character, 
whidi  nothing  but  the  loss  of  a  good  man  would  call  forth,  and 
jiothing  but  i^ectionate  ven^ation  would  bestow. 

"We  ought  not  to  omit  to^^'otice  the  manner  in  which  the  life  of 
Mr.  Crabbe  has  been  TecojgQ  ^^  his  son.  He  formed  the  plan  of 
-prmring  a  biography,  so;^  ^^  previous  to  his  father's  death, 
and  has  not  thought  it  expedient  to  alter  that  portion  of  it  which 
was  written  in  his  lifetime.  We  think  this  a  judicious  resolution ; 
iius  portion  of  the  work  is  undoubtedly  more  animated  and  attrac- 
tive to  the  reader,  than  it  would  have  been  had  it  been  written  in 
the  immediate  contemplation  of  the  loss.  There  is  little  reason  to 
ibar,  that  the  son  has  omitted  any  thing  particularly  worthy  of  re- 
membrance; while  he  has  certainly  collected  much,  that  would 
not  easily  have  been  accessible  to  others.  On  the  whole,  it  will  be 
regarded  as  a  just  and  gratifying  tribute  to  a  man  of  superior  genius 
and  virtue,  whose  moral  qualities  command  our  veneration,  while 
kis  poetical  abilities  will  ensure  him  a  high  and  permanent  rank 
among  the  poets  of  his  country. 


Aht.  VIII.— 2%«  Darker  Superstitions  of  Scotland.    Illustrated  from  His- 
tory and  Practice.     8vo.   London:   Whittaker  and  Co.     1834. 

An  authentic  view  of  the  superstitions  of  mankind  is  one  of  the 
most  important  branches  of  moral  history.  A  knowledge  of  their 
various  points  of  belief  evidently  goes  deep  into  a  correct  illustra- 
tion of  their  sentiments,  habits,  and  occupations.  Credulity  has 
abounded  in  every  age  and  country,  and  each  succeeding  generation 
has  departed  from  some  glaring  absurdities  only  to  take  up  others. 

I  2 


116  SupersHtians  of  Scotland. 

**  Hence,*'  as  Mr,  Dalyell  says,  "  the  powerful,  though  temporary 
sway  of  astrology,  physiognomy,  chiromancy,  and  even  the  ardour 
of  certain  pursuits  of  practical  science,  which  might  have  benefited 
learning  in  wiser  hands."  One  general  principal  may  be  laid  down, 
that  in  Christendom  credulity  was  in  past  ages  characteristic  of 
mankind,  and  incredulity  in  this ;  or  it  may  be  put  thus  in  refer- 
ence to  the  present  era,  diat  its  characteristic  credulity  is,  that  no- 
thing is  ascertained  or  to  be  credited.  Of  these  two  states  of  pre- 
vailing opinion,  the  former  is  certainly  the  most  interesting  and 
dramatic.  Warmth  and  enthusiasm,  and  all  the  drapery,  so  to 
speak,  with  which  the  mind  can  invest  any  thing,  belong  to  it ; 
whilst  coldness  and  nakedness  are  the  qualities  of  the  latter. 

Now,  were  we  to  attempt  a  careful  comparison  of  these  two  states 
of  the  human  mind,  with  the  purpose  of  balancing  their  merits  upon 
the  most  rational  grounds,  we  should  perhaps  find  that  the  fitcility 
to  believe  the  most  extraordinary  and  extravagant  nonsense  waA  not 
worse  or  so  bad  as  the  disbelief  of  the  plainest  and  simplest  truths. 
But  not  to  go  ferther  into  such  a  comparison,  and  to  keep  by  the 
business  before  us,  the  superstitions  that  characterized  the  people 
of  Scotland  were  dark,  partaking  of  the  depth  and  weight  which  a 
romantic  and  energetic  race  exhibited  in  every  developement  of 
mind.     The  mass  of  their   extravagances  in  this  way  is  rude  and 
disorderly ;  but  our  author  has  done  ito^h  to  arrange  and  systeofiize 
it.     It  will  be  found,  he  says,  tj|licM»fuidir  superstitions  originated 
partly  from  astronomy,  partly  fi'om  theoSagy,  and  partly  from  medi- 
cine.    Now,  all  these  fields,  so  open  and  ripe  with  matter  for  the 
imagination  to  work  on,  found  amongst  the  nervous  minds  in  the 
north  the  boldest  cultivators.     They  could  fathom,  soar,  and  pierce 
where  duller  eyes  could  not  open.    The  very  character  of  their  land 
and  their  climate  fed  their  powers.     The  solitude  of  their  moun- 
tains, the  mists  and  clouds  that  o'ertopt  them,  the  silence  of  their 
sleeping  lakes,  and  the  thunder  of  their  cataracts,  were  things  that 
afforded  scope  unlimited,  and  gave  strength  uncontrolled  to  all  the 
creative  energies  of  imagination.     It  is  rare  that  any  man,  though 
long  schooled  in  all  the  monotony  of  a  busy  city,  can  traverse  the 
glens  or  the  mountain-brows  of  Scotland,  where  the  clouds,  the 
boundless  waste,  the  wail  of  ocean,  or  the  roar  of  waters,  obtrude 
themselves,  with  undisturbed  influence,  without  thinking  he   sees 
and   hears  a  supernatural  power  in   them  all.     And  to  this  day 
among  such  scenes,  whither  modem  discovery  has  but  partially 
reached,  do  the  people  find  and  follow  signs  in  every  thing. 

Mr.  Dalyell  has  been  at  great  pains  to  collect  every  ^matter  that 
can  throw  light  upon  the  origin,  the  influence,  and  the  extent  of  the 
darker  superstitions  of  his  native  land.  We  shall  follow  him  in  his 
course  according  to  his  arrangement,  and  present  our  readers  with 
some  of  the  more  remarkable  extravagances  shown  us.  We  were 
going  to  be  particular  with  Mr.  Dalyell's  manner  before  entering 
upon  bis  matter;   but  the  one  is  comparatively  unimportant,  and 


Superstitions  of  Scotland,  117 

we  shall  not  do  more,  in  way  of  e:apos^  of  his  artificial  style,  than 
give  the  two  first  paragraphs  of  the  book. 

^  If  mankipd  sickening,  wasted  and  died,  while  the  secret  source  of 
corrosion  was  unseen,  the  superstition  of  darker  ages  ascribed  it  rather 
to  demoniac  agency,  than  to  distempered  organization.  When  the  fruits 
of  the  earth  were  blighted ;  or  the  work  of  patient  industry  perished ;  if 
disappointment  loured  over  the  morning  of  life,  and  its  evening  set  in 
sorrow;  such  calamities  were  charged  to  the  enmity  of  supernatural 
beings,  with  whom  credulity  associated  the  more  obnoxious  of  the  human 
race.  No  account  was  held  of  the  casualties  inseparable  from  sublunary 
dispensations ;  celestial  energies  were  forgot,  in  the  dreaded  faculties 
gratuitously  conferred  on  terrestial  creatures. 

"  The  terror  of  invisible  shafts,  exaggerated  an  insane  apprehension  of 
danger :  hope  fostered  illusion ;  nature's  immutable  ordinances  were 
neither  rendered  expletive  of  remarkable  incidents ;  nor  was  there  any 
appeal  made  to  reason,  though  matured  by  experience.  Inconsistency 
vtthinged  the  mind,  which,  in  its  disturbance,  invested  contemptible  pro- 
ducts with  miraculous  virtues ;  and  yielded  to  the  roost  extravagant 
ceremonies,  in  the  vain  confidence  of  deriving  infallible  efficacy  from 
their  practice.  Dreams  and  visions,  originating  in  a  morbid  constitution, 
were  accepted  as  divine  inspirations;  oracles  emanated  from  ebriety; 
angelic  oracles  floated  on  the  moaning  of  the  winds ;  atmospheric  corus- 
cations announced  spiritual  presence ;  destiny  was  read  in  the  stars." — 
pp.  1,  2. 

Now,  is  this  the  manner  in  which  men  converse  or  speak  ?  One 
tiling  is  certain,  that  not  while  here  below  is  such  language  theirs. 
It  belongs,  doubtless,  to  a  higher  sphere,  which  we  can  in  some  de- 
gree suppose  natural  to  Mr.  Dalyell,  from  the  length  of  time  he 
must  have  dwelt  among  unearthly  intelligences  whilst  composing 
the  work  before  us.  There  is  one  comfort,  however,  in  the  fact, 
that  though  he  starts  in  every  new  chapter  and  division  with  similar 
strides  above  our  heads,  he  gradually  comes  lowier,  till  we  soon  find 
him  on  a  level  with  ourselves.  It  seems,  therefore,  that  he  set  him- 
self every  now  and  then  to  astonish  us  with  an  exploit,  but  soon  ex- 
pended the  forced  strength  of  his  wings,  and  had  again  to  clap  them 
to  his  sides  to  repose,  and  to  recruit  for  another  display  some  time 
afterwards. 

An  evil  eye,  that  is,  the  power  of  its  malevolent  fascination,  the 
author  truly  says,  has  been  as  extensively  believed  in  as  any  ex- 
traordinary or  supernatural  influence.  He  tells  us,  that  it  is  only  a 
few  years  since  a  domestic  in  his  own  family,  having  died  of  small- 
pox, the  mother,  on  arriving  from  the  western  parts  of  Scotland,  ex- 
pressed her  conviction  that  he  had  fallen  a  victim  to  an  evil  eye. 
We  ourselves  know  of  a  woman  in  the  lowlands,  not  many  years 
ago,  whose  eye  was  so  bad,  that  a  glazier  would  not  handle  glass  in 
her  presence ;  if  she  entered  a  house  when  they  were  making  butter j 
they  would  cease  churning,  persuaded  that  otherwise  the  butter 
would  never  gather.  Nay,  so  impressed  was  she  with  the  belief  of  her 
being  possessed  of  such  an  eye,  that  she  avoided  putting  herself  in 


118  Superstitions  of  Scotland^ 

the  way  of  any  nice  operation^  lest  she  might  mar  its  success;  for 
she  was  a  highly  respectable  and  virtuous  woman.  Indeed,  we 
should  maintain  that  the  prevalent  notion  of  some  people  having 
lucky  hands,  and  that  the  first  transaction  of  a  morning  gone  inta 
with  such  persons,  ensures  prosperity  throughout  the  day,  is  just 
as  irrational  and  foolish  as  a  credulity  in  an  opposite  influence. 
We  shall  add,  that  a  rusty  nail  placed  beneath  the  chum  in  the 
case  above-motioned  was  a  sufficient  security  against  the]  old 
lady's  evil  eye.  ''In  various  ouarters,  ready  aeauiescence  yet  attends 
the  importunity  of  the  mendicant,  from  dreading  the  consequences 
of  refusal ;  and  should  an  uncouth  demeanor  and  aspect  be  con- 
joined with  his  vocation,  objects  of  interest  are  carefully  withdrawn 
from  his  gaze.  Children  have  been  thought  the  most  susceptible 
of  injury.**  But  the  best  illustrations  of  this  sort  of  fascination 
are  from  its  supposed  effect  on  the  brute  creation : — 

^  Robert  Kirk,  minister  of  Aberfoyie,  spedcs  of  the  destruction  of  that 
animal  whereon  the  eye  glances  first  in  the  momiog ;  and  he  namea  a 
man  in  his  parish,  *  who  killed  his  own  cow  after  commending  its  fatness* 
and  shot  a  hare  with  his  eyes.'  Also,  it  is  gravely  recorded,  as  a  woman 
milked  her  cow  another  *  lookit  in  ower  the  duir,  quhairvpoun  the  calf 
died  presentlie,  and  the  cow  fell  seik,  that  schoe  wold  nether  eat  ncnr  yield 
milk.'  In  describing  the  '  Devill's  Rudiments,'  which  formed  no  slight 
subject  of  apprehension  in  his  era,  King  James  specified  *  such  kinds  of 
charmes,  as  commonlie  dafte  wives  uses  for  healing  forspoken  goodes,  for 
preserving  them  from  evili  eyes,  by  knitting  rountrees  or  sundriest  kind 
of  herbes  to  the  haire  and  tailes  of  the  goodes.'  Belief  in  the  existence 
of  an  evil  eye  was  certainly  tantamount  to  credulity  in  the  power  or 
practice  of  sorcery.  One  was  amerciated  for  having  slandered  Gilbert 
Thomasoun,  saying,  that  *  the  haill  thing  that  he  did  and  luikitt  on  wold 
never  thryfe." ' — ^pp.  4,  5. 

The  rountree  is  the  mountain  ash,  and  is  still  hdd  by  some  as 
efficacious  in  repelling  evil,  and  this  may  account  for  the  preva- 
lence of  this  species  of  tree  in  the  hedges  and  gardens  connected 
with  almost  every  old  &nn  house  in  Scotland. 

"  But  in  other  countries,  the  same  superstition  assumes  a  much  more 
definite  shape,  under  the  name  of  overlooking,  eye-bitinQ,  and  fascination. 
A  certain  woman  tried  at  Youghall  in  Ireland,  in  the  year  1661,  for 
bewitching  Mary  Langdon,  denied  the  fact,  though  admitting  that  she 
might  have  overlooked  her.  Between  these,  she  said,  there  was  a  great 
difference ;  for  unless  by  touching  her,  she  could  not  have  done  her  any 
harm;  whereon  Glanvil,  the  most  credulous  of  men,  remarks,  *How 
overlooking  and  bewitching  are  distinguished  by  this  hellish  fraternity,  I 
know  not.*  Two  or  three  centuries  since,  the  Irish  spoke  of  their  chil- 
dren and  their  cattle  as  *  eye-bitten,  when  they  fell  suddenlie  sick.' 
The  commendation  of  either  was  dreaded,  unless  repelled  by  an  antidote 
from  invoking  a  blessing,  as  was  done  on  children  in  Scotland,  or  by 
spitting  on  it :  and  if  evil  followed  the  praise  of  a  horse,  the  Loi'd's 
prayer  was  whispered  in  the  animal's  right  ear.  Old  women  were 
invited  to  restore  the  health  of  fascinated  horses  by  their  prayers." — 
pp.  10,11. 


Smpcrstitioms  qf  Scotiamd.  119 

Mr.  DalyeU  traces  the  eredulity  ia  £Ei8cinaition»  m  prevalent  in 
many  eountries  and  ^ges  ;  and  then  asks  if  there  be  truly  any  ra- 
tioniu  frandation  for  that  belief.  *^  Does  the  presence  of  an  object 
unseen  produce  an  irresistible  impression  ?  or  does  it  reside  in  the 
imagination  only  ?"  He  does  not  renture  upon  a  decisive  answei, 
bat  throws  oat  some  ingenious  conjectures ;  such  as, — ^if  &scina^ 
tion  existSy.its  principle  must  be  sought  in  some  natural  cause, 
qperatii^  in  such  a  manner  on  the  person  as  to  occasion  disturb- 
ance of  the  mind. 

**  Doubtless,  certain  sensatioBs  originate  from  the  presence  of  objects 
which  never  meet  the  eye.  Our  setises  are  not  sufficiently  refined  to 
detect,  of  themselves,  the  elements,  finding  an  invisible  channel  of  trans- 
mission, though  they  may  be  discovered  and  arrested  by  foreign  auxiliaries. 
Does  not  mfecdon  spread  through  the  medium  of  a  vehicle  absolutely 
invisible,  and  after  a  mode  unknown  and  imperceptible  by  the  most 
delicate  sense  ?  The  sight,  the  hearing,  and  the  feeling,  may  be  rendered 
more  acute:  they  may  become  obtuse;  aU  the  faculties  raiybe  lulled 
in  Isngour;  and  the  sleep  of  death  extinguish  them  fop  ever,  while  the 
agcnit  esc^ipes  the  keenest  search  ^  human  scrutiny. 

**  One  region  is  salubrious  to  the  person,  and  exhilarating  to  the  mind; 
yet  the  whole  system  droops  and  decays  in  another.  The  natives  of  the 
mountains  differ  from  those  of  the  plains,  while  those  residing  amidst 
woods  and  marshes  resemble  neither. 

*•  Pestilence  is  borne  on  the  winds. 

**  At  certain  seasons,  penetrating  emanations  from  the  animal  and 
vegetable  world  occupy  the  atmosphefe,  Su¥ely  for  the  conservative  or 
destructive  designs  of  natare.  The  reciprocal  mfluenoe  of  living  beings 
on  each  other,  though  far  asunder,  is  decided,  though  the  medium  of 
connnunication  be  unknown ;  domesticated  animals  of  prey,  and  those 
empk)yed  in  field  sports,  illustrate  to  mankind  in  society,  what  is  advancing 
constantly  in  the  natural  state.  Thus,  quadrupeds,  birds,  even  insects, 
seem  to  be  paralyzed  for  the  moment  by  some  hidden  external  impression, 
never  to  be  discovered  but  by  the  demonstration  of  its  effects ;  for  the 
means  of  detection  are  not  enjoyed  by  man.  Whether  it  be  in  stimulating 
effluvia,  whether  in  a  narcotic  vapour,  or  in  some  other  quality  indescri- 
bable, nothing  is  established  better,  than  the  transmission  of  impressions 
through  invisible  means. 

'*  Sympathy  and  antipathy,  so  familiar  by  name,  yet  so  little  under- 
stood, are  alike  inexplicable.  If  the  attraction  and  repulsion  of  inanimate 
matter  yet  elude  explanation,  it  may  be  safe  to  conclude,  that  the  combi- 
nadon  of  physics  and  ethics  have  been  insufficiently  appreciated,  in  hypo- 
theses on  the  cause  of  sympathetic  affections. 

*'  It  is  common,  in  this  country,  for  one  to  exclaim,  when  shuddering 
involuntarily,  that  a  human  footstep  crosses  his  grave.  On  the  continent 
of  Europe,  a  similar  impression,  whereby  mankind  are  struck  with  extra- 
ordinary perturbation,  has  been  ascribed  to  the  glance  or  the  vicinity  oL 
a  murderer.  This  is  defined  perculsio  ew  ^omicidiB  prcesentia  aborta^ 
or  man-^laehtt  in  the  vernacular  dialect  of  Friesland  and  Westphalia,  to 
which  it  was  more  peculiar.  Instead  of  analyzing  its  precise  nature, 
the  source  oi  it  was  sought  in  the  machinations  of  Satan.  The  author 
has  not  heard  any  example  of  the  subsistence  of  the  like  in  Scotland." — 
pp.  15 — 18. 


120  S^tperatitiona  of  Scotland. 

Fascination  was  by  the  laws  of  England  comprehended  along 
with  sorcery  as  a  capital  offence ;  bat  never  in  the  Scottish  code. 

Invocation  is  the  next  matter  considered  by  the  author ;  which 
instead  of  being  confined  to  God,  has  been  extended  to  men  flikid 
to  demons.  Under  this  head  he  considers  Incantations y  or  certain 
words  arranged  in  a  metrical  form^  which  the  ancients  and  the 
moderns  have  assumed  and  trusted  in.  Nor  were  these  always 
used  as  a  watchword  to  the  devil,  to  cause  him  to  do  wonders. 
They  were  sometimes  intended  as  pious  exercises.  ^An  invocation 
interrupted  became  abortive.  Good  was  expected  from  this  exer- 
cise, but  evil  from  Maledictions.  Alas !  how  varied  and  abundant 
have  these  been,  according  to  the  folly,  the  passions,  the  malevo- 
lence of  mankind.  And  the  superstitious  when  unable  to  account 
for  misfortunes,  if  anxious  to  find  a  definite  cause^  traced  them  to 
the  malice  of  some  one  of  their  neighbours. 

"  Mawse  Gourlay,  spouse  of  Andrew  Wilson,  quarrelling  with  Mar- 
garet Robertson,  Agnes  Finnie*8  daughter,  called  her  ane  witche's  get,  to 
the  quhilk  disdainefull  word, — Margaret  Robertson,  in  grit  furie  and 
raidge,  maid  this  answer — *•  Gif  I  be  ane  witche's  get,  the  devill  ryve  the 
saull  out  of  ye  befoir  I  come  again :'  according  to  the  quhilk  crewall  and 
devillische  imprecatione, — Andro  Wilsone, — within  auchthouris  therefdr, 
be  your  sorcerie  and  witchcraft  practeizet  be  yow  wpon  him,  be  your 
dochteris  instigatione, — ^became  frenatik,  and  ran  stark  mad,  his  eyeis 
standing  out  in  his  head  in  maist  feirfuU  and  terrible  maner,— evir  utter- 
ing thir  words,  as  his  ordiner  and  continuall  speiches  pronuncit  in  that 
his  madnes,  '  the  devill  ryve  the  saule  out  of  me  I '  " — ^pp.  34, 35. 

The  practice  of  Maledictions  is  most  strikingly  proved  to  have 
existed  in  very  early  times,  by  the  story  of  Balak  inviting  Balaam 
to  come  and  curse  the  Israelites.  In  the  year  1661,  the  maledic- 
tion of  parents  was  rendered  a  capital  ofience :  and  assuredly  it  is 
a  very  heinous  thing.  Now-a-days  the  church  takes  cognizance 
of  such  daring  immorality. 

On  the  effects  of  the  Touch,  we  shall  give  a  few  examples,  as 
handed  down  to  us,  and  believed  in.  By  a  superstition  dangerous 
to  the  innocent,  and  long  prevalent  in  Scotland,  blood  springing 
from  a  murdered  person  at  the  touch  of  another,  was  held  deci- 
sive of  his  guilt.  Sometimes  the  innocent  underwent  the  test  fear-^ 
lessly  to  their  destruction. 

*'  A  man  and  his  sister  were  at  variance :  he  died  suddenly,  and  his 
body  was  found  in  his  own  house  naked,  with  a  wound  on  the  face,  but 
bloodless.  '  Althoe  many  of  the  nychtbours  in  the  toun  came  into  the 
hous  to  sie  the  dead  corps,  yett  schoe  never  offered  to  come ;  howbeit 
hir  dwelling  was  nixt  adjacent  therto :  nor  had  schoe  soe  much  as  any 
setming  grteff  for  his  death.  But  the  minister  and  baillifes  of  the  toun 
taking  great  suspitione  of  her,  in  respect  of  her  carriadge,  commanded 
that  schoe  sould  be  brought  in.  But  when  schoe  come,  schoe  come 
trembling  all  the  way  to  the  hous,  schoe  refused  to  come  nigh  to  the 
corps,  or  tuitche,  saying,  that  schoe  never  tuiched  a  dead  corps  in  hir 
life.     But  being  earnestlie  entreated  by  the  minister  and  bailliffes,  and 


SuperetUUmi  of  Seatkmd.  I2l 

her  brother^B  fnends,  who  was  killed,  that  achoe  wold  but  tuitch  the 
^corpe  softlie,  echoe  granted  to  doe  it.  But  befoir  schoe  did  it,  the  Bone 
Bohyneiiig  in  at  the  hous,  schoe  ezprest  herself  thus :  *  humblie  desjrring, 
as  Uie  Lord  made  the  sone  to  schyne  and  give  light  into  that  house,  that 
also  he  wyld  give  light  in  discovering  that  murder : '  and  with  these 
woordes,  schoe  tuitching  the  wound  of  the  dead  man  verie  softlie,  it  being 
whyt  and  clein,  without  any  spot  of  blood  or  the  like ;  yet,  imediatlie 
while  her  finger  was  vpone  it,  the  blood  rushed  out  of  it,  to  the  great  ad- 
miratione  of  all  the  beholders,  whoe  tooke  it  as  ane  discoverie  of  the  mur- 
ther,  according  to  her  awne  prayer." — ^p.  39. 

Of  cure  by  the  touchy  the  most  prevalent  practice  was  that  by 
royalty. 

'*  When  queen  Elizabeth  practised  so  eminent  a  prerogative,  all  were 
allowed  to  approach  her — ^young  and  old,  rich  and  poor,  indiscriminately. 
But  the  surgeons  of  the  household  received  the  names  of  the  patients  pre- 
viously, and  determined  whether  they  were  truly  scrofulous;  which  being 
communicated  to  the  queen,  she  appointed  a  time  for  the  ceremony, 
without  preferring  any  day  in  particular.  After  she  had  prepared  herself 
for  it  by  religious  fizercises,  the  patients  were  introduced.  Then  the 
liturgy  having  been  read,  prayers  said,  and  a  discourse  delivered  on  the 
last  chapter  of  Mark,  when  reaching  verse  fourteenth,  relative  to  the  in- 
credulity of  the  disciples,  she  applied  her  bare  hands  to  the  parts  diseased. 
The  patients  now  receded  during  farther  reading,  until  completing  the 
ceremonies.  At  these  words  in  the  first  chapter  of  John,  '  that  was  the 
true  light  which  lighteth  every  man  that  cometh  into  the  world,'  the 
queen  arose,  and  each  patient  having  been  brought  back,  she  made  the 
sign  of  the  cross  on  the  distempered  part,  with  a  gold  coin  attached  to  a 
ribbon,  and  delivered  it  to  be  suspended  from  the  neck.  Each  then  re- 
ceded again,  the  remainder  of  the  scripture  was  read,  and  the  queen,  with 
)ler  attendants,  having  knelt  in  prayer,  the  patients  departed,  congratu- 
lating each  other  on  their  cure." — ^pp.  63,  64. 

£ut  in  Scotland^  Charles  I.  seems  to  have  on  his  visits  con* 
ducted  this  branch  of  his  prerogative  on  the  largest  scale.  Nay, 
in  a  subject  it  was  accounted  treasonable  to  assume  the  ofBce.  It 
does  not  appear,  indeed,  that  anterior  to  that  monarch's  reign,  the 
function  was  ever  executed  in  Scotland ;  but  in  England  it  is  re* 
ferred  to  the  age  of  Edward  the  Confessor. 

The  supposed  virtue  of  spittle  is  thus  shortly  and  strongly 
placed  before  the  reader : — 

**  The  properties  of  the  human  saliva  have  enjoyed  singular  notice  in 
history,  sacred  and  profane.  Among  the  ancient  pagans,  Pliny  devotes 
an  entire  chapter  to  its  efficacy,  as  an  antidote  to  fascination,  as  a  pre- 
servative from  contagion,  as  counteracting  poisons — and  in  pugilistic  en- 
counters as  aggravating  the  vehemence  of  a  blow.  With  equal  confidence, 
the  modems  spit  into  their  hands  when  they  fight — and  spit  under  the 
humiliation  of  discomfiture :  they  spit  on  money  received  in  traffic :  on 
tfaxowing  aside  the  combings  of  their  hair :  on  wounds  in  the  flesh,  and 
on  thebite  of  venemous  snakes  to  cure  it.  They  spit  as  a  token  of  the 
most  sovereign  contempt :  And  in  one  of  the  remotest  Scottish  islets. 
yt^yig  into  the  grave  forms  part  bf  the  funeral  ceremony." 


'*  The  most  noted  application  of  the  human  aalivA  by  the  ancients^  wa8 
for  the  restoration  of  8ight.-^So  many  cures  are  confidently  averred  and 
recorded,  that  it  would  be  a  most  interesting  to|MC  of  investigation  whe- 
ther any  solvent,  sanative,  or  medicament,  lost  to  modem  oculists,  was 
not  known  of  old.  But  that  facility  with  which  the  testimony  of  any  un- 
natural condition  or  miraculous  event  has  been  always  at  command,  can- 
not be  overlooked  by  the  sagacious.  No  superiority  can  be  claimed  fiEir 
either  ancients  or  modems  in  this  re^ct.  Thence  it  may  be  presumed, 
that  the  cure  of  blindness  has  been  too  frequently,  too  easily,  and  ppft- 
cipitately  ascribed  to  a  fallacious  source. — Those  who  pronounce  as  &- 
miliarly  on  the  precise  interference  of  Heaven,  as  if  they  had  shared  in 
the  Divine  counsels,  are  not  the  most  pious  of  men." — pp.  71 — 74. 

Mr.  Dalydl  remarks  that  the  simplest  ingredients  were  con- 
verted to  sttperstitiouis  purposes ;  such  as  water  and  salt:  and 
either  from  their  intrinsic  virtues^  or  such  as  are  merely  fanciiut. 
As  to  water^  the  medicinal  quality  of  certain  springs  was  enough  to 
establish  its  sacred  character  ;  whilst  the  manner  in  which  the  ima- 
gination regards  this  beautiful,  simple,  and  wonderful  element  could 
not  but  gain  a  fieivour  due  to  a  supernatural  principle.  In  Scotland, 
south  running  water  was  endowed  with  extraordinary  virtues.  But 
salt  is  the  most  essential  ingredient  in  superstitious  ceremonies ; 
and  it  is  to  this  day  used  in  certain  instances,  but  chiefly  as  an  an- 
tidote to  demoniac  influence.  He  does  not  however,  so  far  as  we 
have  discovered,  take  notice  of  the  practice  still  prevalent  in  Scot- 
land^ of  putting  a  saucer  filled  with  salt  on  the  breast  of  a  corpse, 
till  the  moment  it  be  shut  up  in  the  coffin :  the  meaning  of  the 
observance  is  to  deter  evil  spirits  approaching  with  un^ballowed 
purposes. 

In  the  chapter  on  amulets,  the  author  says  they  were  emjdoyed 
as  antidotes,  palliatives,  and  cures.  Some  appear  to  have  been 
things  just  as  they  came  simply  from  the  hands  of  the  Creator ; 
others  were  evidently  the  production  of  homan  art ;  and  perhaps 
both  underwent  a  mystical  process  to  impregnate  them  with  virtue. 
Among  those  held  in  greatest  repute  in  Scotland  was  the  adder 
stone,  as  a  charm  in  a  multitude  of  different  cases.  It  is  known  to 
be  an  ancient  bead.  But  we  ourselves  have,  not  moiv  years  ago, 
known  adder  stones  to  be  used  to  cure  the  bite  of  an  adder.  Those 
that  we  refer  to  were  black  rings,  made  of  some  pebble^  yet  the 
common  country  people  tell,  that  on  a  particular  day  in  the  year 
the  adders  congregate  and  set  about  making  this  stone  in  a  very 
mystical  style,  and  in  the  west,  it  is  a  usual  saying,  hence  derived^ 
when  a  knot  of  pec^le  are  seen  together,  to  say  to  them,  "  Y'are 
makin*  an  adder  stone,  I  see." 

The  author  next  treats  learnedly  of  propitiatory  saeiifiees  and 
charms,  and  justly  gives,  as  the  utmost  limits  of  human  superotition, 
human  sacriflce,  which  certain  innocent  ceremotties  practised  kt 
Scotland  perhaps  indicate  to  have  at  one  time  been  common  there, 
though  of  this  there  is  no  direct  evidence.  But  we  cannot  enter 
into  this  dreadful  subject.     Of  propitiatory  charms  nothings  is  so 


Skptr$tki(m9  of  Seotimd.  133 

intererting  in  cbip jo'ieal  rap^rsfdtion  as  the  projeets  hazarded  for  al- 
iDTing  the  }ore  or  subduing  the  virtue  of  the  softer  sex.  Two  qx- 
pecBents  were  principally  practised — ^flraming  inscriptions^  and  giv- 
ing philtres  or  amatory  potions.  By  the  last-mentioned  method,  en- 
chantment, it  was  presumed,  could  be  introduced  into  the  corporeal 
frame^  in  the  shape  of  sustenance^  or  along  with  it. 

**  Sir  John  Colquhoun,  of  Luss,  bad  married  Lady  Lilias  Graham,  eldest 
daughter  of  John,  fourth  Earl  of  Montrose,  «nd  sister  of  the  celebrated 
marquis  bearing  that  title  previous  to  the  year  1633.  Having  received 
Lady  Katherine,  his  sister-in-law,  as  an  imoate  of  his  family  at  *  tk^isdew,' 
he  cast  the  eyes]  of  unlawful  affection  upon  her :  and  not  forgetting  the^ 
ordinary  arts  of  seduction,  which  require  little  tuition,  he  ^  in  craftie  and 
politique  manner,  first  insinuat  himselff  be  subtile  and  entyseing  speiches,' 
ixU;o  her  favour.  But  the  delusion  of  these  proving  ineffectual,  the  se- 
ducer availed  himself  of  the  mystical  expedients  then  in  vogue,  to  spread  a 
new  snare  for  her  virtue  with  necromantic  aid.  He  had  a  servant,  an 
adept  in  occult  charms,  whom,  among  others,  he  consulted  on  his  {voject; 
and  *  procureit  from  him,  ane  necromancer,  certain  philtra,  or  poysokies,. 
or  poysonable  and  inchantit  toakynes  of  love :  speeiallie  ane  jewall  of 
gold,  set  with  divers  pretious  diamantis,  or  rubei^,  quhilk  was  poysonetor 
iatoxicat  be  the  said  necromancer,  and  had  the  secreit  and  devillische 
force  of  allureing  and  forceing  the  persone  ressauer  thairof,  to  expose  hir 
hodie,  fame,  and  ciedeit,  to  the  will  and  unlauchfull  plesour  of  the  gevar 
and  prorpyner  thairof."  Having  obtained  this  marvellous  talisman,  the 
seducer  did  not  neglect  to  profit  by  its  occult  qualities :  nor  do  these  seem 
to  have  been  exaggerated,  judging  at  least  by  the  issue, — for  after  having 
delivered  the  'Jewell  of  gold  set  with  the  said  rubcis  and  diamondis, 
devillischlie  intoxicat  and  inchantit,  as  said  is, — scho  was  so  bewitchit 
and  transpoirtit,  that  scho  had  no  power  of  hirselff,  to  refuse  the  said  Sir 
John  Colquhoim.* 

"  After  carrying  on  their  intrigue  at  home,  the  parties  eloped  to  London^ 
where  they  continued  to  live  together :  the  aggressor  was  outlawed,  for  he 
prudently  avoided  exposing  himself  te  a  criminal  trial,  his  offence  being 
aggravated  by  the  affinity  of  his  paramour.  Whatever  might  have  been* 
tike  consequences  in  respect  to  him,  the  tenor  of  a  charge  against  the 
necremattcer,  his  aeoompliee,  renders  it  probabie  that  sentence  would 
have  foUowed  oonviction."-«-pp.  2I0«  211. 

Itt  our  notices  of  new  works  in  this  number  of  our  Review^  will 
befovmd  that  of  a  tragedy  founded  on  the  story  told  of  the  Countess 
of  Essex,  who  divorced  her  husband  in  the  reign  of  James  I.  of 
England,  and  was  alleged  to  cast  an  amorous  eye  on  the  Viscount 
Rochester.  Two  persons,  Mrs.  Turner  and  Dr.  Forman,  combined 
to  enchant  the  Viscount^s  affection  toward  her. 

Relative  to  marriage,  superstitions  have  been  innumerable^  some 
for  promoting  the  harmony  of  the  wedded  pair^  many  for  ensuring 
that  most  decisive  test  of  divine  approval — ^the  gift  of  progeny. 
Various  expedients  antecedent  to  the  matrimonial  union  by  way  of 
divinatioii  were  resorted  to. 

-  ^  Some  were  practised  in  solitude,  amidst  the  darkness  and  silence  of 
the  midnight  hour ;  the  future  spouse  was  expected  to  check  a  thread 


1 24  SupergHtioni  of  Scotland. 


while  unwinding  from  a  clue,~-or  during  ceremonies  before  a  mirror, 
an  apparition  of  either  helpmate  should  present  itself,  along  with  the 
reflected  image  of  the  querent. — Water  and  fire  were  resorted  to  alike  : 
nuts  were  burnt  together  or  singly :  so  that,  flaming  in  concert  or  start- 
ing apart,  an  augury  might  be- formed  of  the  love  or  aversion  of  either 
sex  subsisting  unseen. 

"  In  Scotland,  two  crosses  were  fabricated  for  either  party,  and  laid 
in  water.  The  suitor's  left  shoe  being  cast  over  the  house,  afforded  a 
propitious  omen  if  falling  towards  it;  if  falling  from  itj  he  should  be 
disappointed. 

''  Astrology  has  ever  had  an  important  influence  over  the  affiairs  6f 
mankind.  Their  destinies  have  been  believed  to  be  dependent  on  the 
celestial  deities  represented  by  the  orbs  of  the  firmament.  The  canon 
law  anxiously  prohibited  observance  of  the  moon  as  regulating  the  period 
of  marriage ;  nor  was  any  regard  to  be  paid  to  certain  days  of  the  year 
for  ceremonies.  If  the  Luctn^,  of  the  ancients  be  identified  with  Diana, 
it  was  not  unreasonable  to  court  her  care  of  the  parturient,  by  selecting 
the  time  deemed  most  propitious.  The  strength  of  the  ecclesiastical  in- 
terdiction does  not  seem  to  have  prevailed  much  in  Scotland.  Friday, 
which  was  consecrated  to  a  northern  divinity,  has  been  deemed  more 
favourable  for  the  union.  In  the  southern  districts  of  Scotland,  and  in 
the  Orkney  Islands,  the  inhabitants  preferred  the  increase  of  the  moon 
for  it.  Auspicious  consequences  were  anticipated,  in  other  parts,  from 
its  celebration  at  full  moon.  Good  fortune  depended  so  much  on  the 
increase  of  that  luminary,  that  nothing  important  was  undertaken  during 
its  wane."— pp.  284—286. 

The  following  are  highly  interesting  and  attractive  passages^  for 
the  length  of  which  we  need  not  apologise^  at  least  to  our  readers 
of  the  tender  sex : — 

'*  No  satisfactory  elucidation  of  the  origin,  signification,  or  use  of  the 
symbols  interchanged  at  marriage,  can  be  gleaned  from  antiquity.  Nei- 
ther can  the  sources  or  the  purpose  of  several  concomitant  jocular  cus- 
toms, sports  and  festivities,  be  discovered.  Some  hold  the  ring  an  earnest, 
others  deem  it  a  pledge  of  fidelity.  It  was  put  on  the  fourth  finger, 
because  th^  older  anatomists,  or  the  superficial  of  the  superstitious, 
affirmed,  that  a  vein  communicated  immediately  from  that  organ  to  the 
heart :  and  this  is  recognised  by  the  canon  law.  The  saxpe  opinion,  bow- 
ever,  is  very  ancient ;  it  is  ascribed  to  the  Egyptians  and  to  the  earlier 
Greeks.  An  amatory  charm  consisted  in  drawing  a  circle  with  blood 
from  the  ring  finger,  on  a  wafer  which  was  afterwards  consecrated. 
Other  ceremonies  having  intervened,  half  of  it  was  taken  by  the  person 
enamoured,  and  half  pulverized  was  administered  to  the  object  of  affec- 
tion, for  the  purpose  of  inspiring  mutual  love.  It  was  essential  that  the 
marriage  ring  should  be  round.  Marriage  with  a  diamond  ring  foreboded' 
evil :  because  the  interruption  of  the  circle  aagured  that  the  reciprocal 
regard  of  the  spouses  might  not  be  perpetual.     Hence  a  plain  and  perfect 

golden  circle  is  now  invariably  in  use :.  and  it  is  considered  ominous  in 
Gotland  ever  to  part  with  the  marriage  ring.  A  scurrilous  author  of 
the  seventeenth  century  denies  the  use  of  the  ring  in  Scotland, — a  fEbct 
scarcely  credible,  imless  it  had  been  abandoned  temporarily  from  the 
abhorrence  entertained  of  ceremonies  and  symbols  by  the  rigid  presby- 


AtpertiHtums  of  Scotlmtd.  195 

terians.  '  They  cliristen  without  the  cross,  marry  witkout  the  ring, 
reeeire  the  sacnimeiit  without  reverence,  and  bury  without  divine  service. 
They  keep  no  holydays,  nor  acknowledge  any  daint  but  Saint  Andrew, 
who,  they  say,  got  that  honour  by  presenting  Christ  with  an  oaten  cake 
after  his  forty  days'  fast.'  They  think  it  impossible  to  lose  the  way  to 
heaven  if  they  can  but  leave  Rome  behind  them. 

**•  The  virtues  ascribed  to  a  circle  may  have  determined  some  of  the 
superstitions  regarding  the  figure  of  the  marriage  ring. 

'^  The  ring  was  symbolical  of  union.  Hence  Queen  Elizabeth  said  to 
Secretary  Maitland  in  the  course  of  a  negociation,  *  I  am  maryed  alreddy 
to  the  realme  of  England,  when  I  wes  crownit,  with  thb  ring  quhilk  i 
beir  continewallie  in  taikin  thairof.' 

**  According  to  Moresin,  women  previously  avoided  appearing  unveiled 
for  several  days  after  marriage :  but  in  his  time  they  had  become  bolder, 
for  they  showed  themselves  immediately.  Formerly  also,  in  some  dis- 
tricts, when  the  bride  went  bareheaded  to  church,  she  remained  so  during 
the  day  of  her  nuptials,  and  covered  herself  ever  after.  Veiling  in  mar- 
riage has  perplexed  the  canonists  as  much  as  the  use  of  the  ring ;  nor  is 
the  reason  assigned  for  it  in  the  Decretalia  satisfactory :  namely,  that  it  is 
a  token  of  constant  conjugal  subjection.  Tertullian,  one  of  the  most 
authoritative  of  the  fathers  of  the  church,  devotes  a  copious  treatise  to 
the  use  of  the  veil.  The  customs  of  Scotland  may  have  vacillated  ac- 
cording to  the  religion  professed  by  the  inhabitants.  Covering  the  head 
or  veiling  the  countenance,  has  been  always  an  important  part  of  the 
rites  and  ceremonies,  civil  and  religious,  of  most  nations  throughout  the 
globe ;  but  sometimes  for  an  opposite  purpose. 

"  The  true  love  knot  and  marriage  knot  have  some  mysterious  etymo-> 
logy,  such  as  hitherto  unexplained  satisfactorily :  and  probably  the  distri- 
bution of  bride's  favours  in  knots  is  in  relation  to  it.  Hickes  views  thie 
true  love  knot  as  a  symbol  of  indissoluble  friendship,  love,  and  fidelity : 
and  thence  he  derives  its  name  from  words  significant  of  its  purpose.  But 
this  etymology  is  questionable.  The  same  author  adds,  that  it  is  customary 
in  the  north  to  carry  home,  from  nuptials  solemnly  celebrated,  the  head 
dress  presented  to  the  bride,  curiously  interwoven  in  circles  and  knots,  as 
a  testimony  of  the  indissoluble  fidelity  of  the  spouses.  More  probably  the 
formation  and  distribution  or  solution,  were  originally  connected  with 
charms  which  might  impair  matrimonial  felicity.  Was  their  absence 
ijiferred  with  the  removal  of  knots  as  gifted  ?" — ^pp.  287 — 310. 

We  pass  over  the  chapters  on  the  ingredients  and  instruments  of 
sorcery^  mystical  plants^  and  mystical  animals^  to  introduce  an  ex- 
tract or  two  from  that  on  mystical  mankind. 

*^  About  thirty  years  ago,  a  person  of  rustic  habits,  named  Sullivan,  in 
the  south  of  Ireland,  generally  designed  the  whisperer,  was  celebrated  for 
the  remarkable  control  which  he  could  exercise  immediately  over  vicious 
horses.  After  entering  the  stable,  where  he  remained  some  time  alone 
9nd  unwitnessed,  he  led  forth  the  most  untractable  animal  in  perfect  sub- 
jection, or  on  opening  the  door  he  was  seen  lying  beside  it  in  tranquillity. 
Sometimes  on  mounting  a  fiery,  restive,  or  vicious  steed,  such  as  others 
durst  hardly  approach,  in  the  shortest  period,  while  the  perspiration  hailed 
from  it  in  terror,  it  showed  an  absolute  obedience  to  the  rein.  He  never 
testified  dread  of  any;  all  became  alike  subdued,  and  thenceforth  useful 


r  IS6  SupetBatioM  ijf  S&oHmul. 

for  their  reapective  ««f  vice.  Abote  twenty  yean  bare  dapsed  ttaoe  the 
whisperer  died,  and  the  real  secret,  whereby  he  accompliahed  his  art,  never 
having  been  disclosed,  has  perished  with  him.  Some  hare  idleg^  that  it 
consisted  in  the  use  of  oil,  of  smoke,  or  other  things,  but  it  is  generally 
ascribed  to  whispering  in  the  horse's  ear.  Thence  SuUivan  was  known 
every  where  simply  as  the  whisperer,'* — pp.  444, 445. 

Personal  deformities  or  imperfections  being  declared  by  the  Deity 
to  be  his  own  work,  may  have  conferred  on  those  labouring  uxider 
them  a  mystical  character.  In  this  country  the  faculty  of  predic- 
tion has  been  associated  with  the  dumb. 

"  Persons  in  the  more  humble  sphere  of  life,  are  not  always  disposed  to 
ccmsider  an  idiot  child  as  the  most  calamitous  dispensation.  They  rather 
deem  it  as  some  peculiar,  though  inexplicable  token  of  the  divine  prelec- 
tion extended  to  their  family :  nay,  in  Ireland,  *  sanctity  ia  generally 
ascribed  to  fatuity.'  A  recent  traveller  observed,  that  the  '  Arabs  have 
a  profound  respect  for  idiots,  whom  they  consider  as  people  beloved  of 
heaven,  and  totally  unable  to  think  of  the  things  of  this  world.'  A  festival 
in  honour  of  fools  was  instituted  in  France,  the  description  and  ceremo- 
nies of  which  are  commemorated  in  different  literary  compositions.  An 
unfortunate  family,  comprehending  four  children,  all  bom  in  idiocy,  was 
once  pointed  out  to  the  author  in  Scotland." — ^p.  446. 

Under  the  head  Second  Sight,  tihe  author  presents  us  with  much 
curious  matter.  It  generally  embraced  sad  and  dismal  objects  ; 
«nd  in  the  strictest  sense^  the  vision  was  cotemporary^  though  it 
sometimes  bordered  on  futurity. 

"On  the  morning  of  the  battle  of  Bothwell  Bridge,  "  Mr.  John 
Cameron,  minister  at  Lochend,  in  Kintyr9,"  became  very  melancholy, 
when  Mr.  Morison,  one  of  his  elders,  observing  him  "  throu  his  chamber 
dore,  sore  weeping,  and  wringing  his  hands — continued  knocking,  till  at 
lenth  he  opened  to  him :  and  he  asked  what  was  the  matter :  if  his  wife 
and  bairns  wer  wecl  ?  *  Little  matter  for  them,'  says  he,  '  our  friends 
at  Bothweel  are  gone.'  When  Mr.  Morrison  told  him  it  might  be  a 
mistake,  and  a  fit  of  melancholy,  *  noe,  noe,'  sayes  he,  *  I  see  them  flying 
as  clear  as  I  see  the  wall :'  and  as  near  as  they  could  calculate  by  after 
accompts,  it  was  at  the  very  minute  they  fled,  that  this  hapned  at  the 
Lochhead  of  Kintyre.** 

"  It  appears,  that  in  the  first  years  of  the  commonwealth,  while  Mac- 
kensie  of  Tarbat,  afterwards  the  Earl  of  Cromarty,  was  riding  in  a  field 
among  his  tenants,  who  were  manuring  barley,  a  stranger  *  called  that 
way  on  his  foot,  and  stopped  likewise,  and  said  to  the  countrjrmen,  '  You 
need  not  be  so  busy  about  that  barley,  for  I  see  the  Englishmen's 
horses  teathered  among  it ;  and  other  parts  moued  doim  for  them.' 
Tarbet  asked  him  how  he  knew  them  to  be  Englishmen,  and  if  he  had 
ever  seen  any  of  them  ?  He  said  '  No ;  but  he  sau  them  strangers,  and 
heard  the  English  wer  in  Scotland,  and  guessed  it  could  be  no  other  than 
they.'  In  the  month  of  July,  the  thing  hapned  directly  as  the  man  said 
he  saw  it.'  This  is  both  a  contemporary  and  prognosticative  vision. 
The  instances  of  the  second  sight  in  purity — that  whereby  an  event 
strictly  contemporary  is  represented — seem  to  be  rare." — ^pp.  475, 476. 

The  author  tells  us  that  one  fiimily  in  Shetland  stiU  claims  the 


fverogalive  of  the  second  sight,  and  that  by  inheriiteee.  But  it 
teposes  in  tlie  head  or  representativa  of  the  family  alone.  The 
truth  is,  the  longer  that  ignorance  prevails,  the  longer  will  all  such 
credulity  be  indulged,  prediction,  prognostication,  and  divination, 
are  separately  considered  by  the  author  with  his  usual  discrimm- 
ation  and  knowledge.  The  gift  of  foresight  is  a  proof  of  a  superi- 
cnrity  of  observation ;  but  mankind  have  hence  claimed  the  singular 
gift  of  prophecy.     Besides  we  never  hear  of  abortive  predictions. 

"  The  reputation  of  some  of  the  Scottish  prophetesses  seems  to  have 
bt^en  very  great :  they  were  firmly  believed  to  be  gifted  with  superna- 
tural insight  into  futurity.  *  Wally  fall  that  quhyt  head  of  thine,  but  the 
pox  will  take  thee  away  from  thy  mother/  exclaimed  one  of  them  to  a 
child.  In  some  weeks  small-pox  became  endemial,  and  the  chilel  died  : 
no  doubts  were  entertained  of  the  sybil's  prescience.  '  Thow  can  tell 
eneugh  if  thow  lyk/  said  the  mother  to  her,  *  that  could  tell  that  my 
baime  wold  die  so  long  befoir  the  tyme.*  •  I  can  tell  eneugh  if  I  durst,* 
she  returned  in  mysterious  reply.  It  was  alleged  on  the  trial  of  Besse 
Skebister,  *  that  all  the  honest  men  of  the  Yle  declarit,  that  it  was  ane 
usual!  thing  quhen  they  thought  boatis  war  in  danger,  to  come  or  send' 
to  enquire  '  how  they  war,  and  if  thay  wold  come  home  weill  ?  quhairv- 
poun  ane  common  proverb  is,  vsit, '  OifF  Bessie  say  it  is  weill,  all  is  weill :' 
ami  the  currency  of  this  proverb  was  found  by  her  jury — Bessie  was 
strangled  and  burnt." — ^p.  491. 

Diviners,  those  that  made  experimental  enquiries  after  futurity, 
were  chiefly  of  the  Gypsy  race  in  Scotland. 

"A  shirt  dipped  in  a  well  which  '  brides  and  burials  passed  over,'  was 
hung  before  the  fire,  perhaps  that  some  form  should  appear  and  turn  it. 
J>]stemper3  were  ascertained  from  the  aspect  of  apparel,  and  anticipations 
of  the  issue.  Thus  an  elf-shot  or  witchcraft  were  declared  the  source  of 
the  evil :  One  affirmed  it,  if  she  had  got  the  shirt  of  a  deceased  person  in 
time,  he  should  not  have  died ;  and  that  of   another  being  carried  to 

•  Jonet  Murrioth,  in  Dumblane,'  with  a  query  whether  he  should  die, — 

*  Not  this  year,'  she  answered,  cast  a  knot  on  the  sleeve  and  desire  it  to 
be  put  on  the  patient.  If  the  left  shoe  cast  over  the  house,  fell  with  the 
mouth  upwards,  a  divination  of  recovery  was  obtained  :  a  distemper  was 
mortal  if  falling  downwards." — p.  520. 

I'here  is  a  long  chapter  on  Imaginary  Beings  ;  the  notice  taken 
of  A  benevolent  and  favourite  sort  is  thus  correctly  given : — 

'  *  Broivnie  in  Scotland  seems  to  have  corresponded  with  Robin  Good' 
fdlow,  and  the  Terrei  Virunculi  of  the  continent.  King  James  con- 
sidered Brownie  as  a  rough  man,  Martin  as  a  tall  man.  Brand  looked  on 
this  being  as  an  evil  spirit :  King  James,  and  perhaps  the  physician 
Ramesey,  as  a  Satanic  metamorphosis ;  and  Kirk  thinks  Brownie  peculiar 
to  his  native  country,  and  belonging  to  the  class  of  fairies.  A  similar 
office,  in  rocking  cradles,  domestic  services,  taking  care  of  horses  and 
cattle,  was  also  deemed  the  province  of  these  beings,  in  all  countries :  and 
it  was  discliargcd  in  the  night.  In  the  Orkney  Islands,  stacks  of  corn, 
called  Brownie's  stacks,  were  always  safe.  A  portion  of  food  was  set 
apart  in  houses  for  Brownie ;  and  a  libation  of  milk  or  wort,  poured  into 
a  catity  of  a  stone,  called  Browny's  stone  to  ensure  favour  and  protection. 


128  Siq>er$tiH(ms  of  Scotltfnd. 

Credulity  in  the  existence  of  such  supernatural  beings  abated  in  the  end 
i>f  the  seventeenth  century.  They  were  said  to  have  been  chain^  up  by 
the  event  of  the  reformation,  but  again  let  loose  on  introduction  of  the 
English  liturgy  here,  as  expressed  with  controversial  asperity.  The 
nature  of  Brownie  was  pacific  and  munificent — but  spite  of  his  unwearied 
services,  when  offended  once  he  appeared  no  more."**p.  530, 

The  Fairies,  *^  men  or  people  of  peace/'  are  kindly  beings. 

**  They  partake  of  human  and  spiritual  nature ;  their  size  is  diminu- 
tive: they  pet^tuate  their  race:,  and  offspring  descends  also  of  their  in- 
^tcourse  with  mortals.  They  can  become  invisible,  when  they  do  not 
scruple  to  mix  with  mankind,  and  abstract-  the  goods  of  the  upper  world 
to  their  subterraneous  abodes.  •  Thither  also,  they  convey  the  parturient 
for  nurses,  and  new  bom  babes.  They  are  addicted  to  merriment :  tibey 
have  been  seen  dancing,  and  dressed  in  green.  Animals  from  'the  flocks 
or  herds,  shot  with  elf  arrows,  serve  for  their  banquets .  The  influence  of 
fairies  is  greatest  on  Friday ;  at  noon,  and  at  midnight:  and  from  certam 
jealousies  which  they  entertain  of  mankind,  their  name  is  avoided  by  the 
populace,  or  treated  with  respect:  thence,  perhaps,  they  are  called  good 
wights,  or  good  neighbours." — p.  535. 

But  of  all  the  evil  imaginary  beings,  Satan  is  the  most  formid- 
able. He  misled  exemplary  Scottish  matrons  by  assuming  the 
semblance  of  their  own  husbands.  His  voice  is  thick  and  hollowi 
like  one  speaking  into  an  empty  cask.  He  sometimes  appears  ii) 
white  raiment  and  sometimes  in  blacky  and  indeed  he  is  any  thih^ 
and  every  thing  as  he  chooses. 

*'  In  human  form»  his  demeanour  was  always  consistent.  He  w»i 
affable,  polite,  sometimes  even  officious,— oiccasionally  violent,  crafty« 
under  a  plausible  exterior,  and  very  amorous.  Such  repeated  and 
invarying  evidence  establishes  this,  that,  had  the  youthful  and  atti'active 
borne  witness  to  the  fact,  instead  ojf  the  repulsive,  old,  and  haggard  part 
of  the  sex,  asseverations  of  such  Satanic  disguise  could  have  been  only 
thought  a  veil  for  their  levities.  Female  testimony  here  is  more  than 
minute.  But  alleged  amours  with  Satan  became  a  cruel  and  common 
vehicle  for  slander.  On  one  occasion,  he  introduced  himself  as  a  '  plea- 
sant young  man/  saying,  *■  where  do  you  live,  goodwyf — and  how  doea 
the  minister  ?'  Jonet  Ker,  reaching  Tweedside,  he  arose  at  thd  water, 
helped  her  over,  and  enquired  whether  she  intended  to  return,  as  he 
should  help  her  back  again  :  another  represents  him  sitting  at  table  as  a- 
gentleman,  '  who  drank  to  her,  and  she  drank  .to  him.'  likewise,  he 
appeared  to  Jonet  Barker,  Margaret  Lauder,  and  Jonct  Cranstoun,  *  in 
lyknes  of  ane  tryme  gentillman,  and  drank  with  thame  all  three,  and 
imbraoit  Margparet  lAuder  in  his  airmes.'  Meeting  one  on  the  hills 
between  Harray  and  Kendall, '  he  gart  hir  milk  the  kyne,  quhill  he  suppit 
as  fast  as  she  milkit.'  Because  Margaret  Sonnes,  who  had  engaged  in 
his  service,  *  was  not  speedie  in  following  the  devJU,  he  did  drag  her  be 
the  coat,  and  brak  the  band  thereof.'  For  infringing  an  appointment, . 
Alexander  Hamilton  was  *  maist  rigorouslie  strukin  with  ane  battoun,'  by 
him  thereafter.  He  was  equally  resentful  in  other  countries." — ^pp.  554, 
555. 

We  pass  over  the  subject  of  spectoral  illusions  to  come  .to  the 
last  chapter  on  the  tests,  trial,  convi^tion^  and  punishment  of 


Guide  to  the  HigUmidfi.  139 

sprcqr| ;  pf  iir|)ich  a  sentence  or  8o.  And  h^  ^  tesrific  £eld  w 
qptnea  Olf  the  imorance,  the  bigotry,  ^he  malice  and  the  crnelt j  of 
husfiw  kind.  How  easy  wa«  it  to  charge  the  innoG^ at  yrim 
9(o^e&y !  and  what  idotre  aaagerouB  amidst  the  darkness  of  super- 
stition !  suspicion  was  the  harbinger  of  death.  Safety  could  not 
be  found  in  flight ;  an  asylum  was  denied  the  accused  by  their 
felloi^  creatures.  Contrivances  were  practised  to  ratify  the  inform- 
ation lodged  by  confession.  Hunger,  confinement  and  terror 
/often  drove  ppor  ignorant  women  distracted,  and  not  nnfirequently 
to  believe  themselves  possessed  of  that  which  was  formidably 
^duused  against  them,  and,  under  torture  of  bodjr  as  weU  as  of 
fsino,  to  eonfe^ ;  and  all  this  was  prosecuted  with  the  view  of 
g^lonfying  God»  by  literally  inteunpretinjg;  the  injunction  "  thou  shalt 
not  suffer  a  witcn  to  live."  The  victims  were  chiefly  women. 
The  sentepce  generally  was  to  be  strangled  and  burnt. 

'*  But  besides  the  noted  doom  of  Eufiune  Macalyane  to  be  burnt  alive, 
^e  frequent  marginal  notices  of  oonvieia  et  oambusta^  in  the  original 
nconls,  aCord  too  definitive  evidence  bow  oiten  this  cruel  fate  await^ 
othar^.    IJer^es  i|re  expiated  by  the  flames. 

■*  Perhaps  the  faggpts  were  regularly  piled  around  the  miserable  vic- 
til(09j  dragged  forth  amidst  the  execrations  of  a  ferocious  multitude  exult- 
ing m  this  v^aible  defeat  of  Satan,  while  more  combustible  ingrediente 
promoted  fiercer  conflagration. 

**  Several  unhappy  women,  inhumanly  committed  to  the  fttake,  though 
persevering  in  asseverations  of  their  innocence  to  the  last,  *  were  bumet 
^uhk  after  sic  ane  crewell  manner,  that  sum  of  thame  deit  in  dispair, 
renunceand  and  blaspfaemand  :  and  vtheris  half  brunt  brak  out  of  the 
IVre,  and  wes  cassin  quick  into  it  agane,  quhill  thay  war  brunt  to  the 
ddd,'  *•  —p.  67«. 

We  conclude  our  notices  of  some  of  the  contents  of  this  volume, 
by  giving  it  as  our  opinion,  that  it  is  a  very  important  he)p  to  a 
tnorough  knowledge  ot  Scottish  history,  and  even  is  of  much  more 
extensive  applicatidn.  It  is  a  careful^  learned,  and  well-written 
(notwithstanding  the  fault  as  to  style  forpietiy  pointed  out  by  us) 
treatise ;  a  clear  analysis  of  hithertodisordered  materials.  Tt  opens 
the  way' to  &rther  research^  and  probably  to  a  new,  as  well  as  more 
apparent  illustration  of  the  history  of  the  human  mind. 

Aj^T*  IX. — Gttide  to  the  Highfanii  and  Islands  of  Scotland.    By  G.  and 

P.  Anderson.  jLiOndon :  Murray.     1834. 

Tbib  is  fay  £ur  the  fullest,  the  most  correct^  and  the  best  written 
Chiide  to  th^  Highlands  of  Scotland  that  has  ever  been  published. 
Tbeare  have  been  tours  and  sketches  innumerable,  some  of  them 
ii]gbi]r  deseriptive  nf  the  scenery  and  people  of  this  portion  of  the 
^npire,  but  none  of  tham  combine  all  the  points  and  matures  of  the 
pomesat :  none  of  them  are  at.  all  e^al  to  it  a3  a  us^ul  guide  to 
eiGBTf  thing  that  can  int«rest  or  direct  travellezs  and  visitors  pf 
civfliy  desdripftkm.  Works  of  this  nature  are  of  the  greatest  naiJonal 
Vol.  III.  (1834.)  ho.  i.  k 


130  Chdd*  to  the  Highitmdi. 

service.  There  is  by  the  most  efficient  means^  reeiprodty  of  know* 
ledge  hereby  encouraged  in  every  useful  department.  The  visitors 
as  well  as  the  visited  are  benefited  ;  not  merely  is  he  who  travds 
for  pleasure  or  health,  and  those  among  whom  he  spends  his  money 
thus  blessed,  but  in  every  important  particular,  so  obviously  as  needs 
not  to  be  more  than  hinted  at,  does  all  kind  of  knowledge,  the  best 
moral  ends,  the  most  beneficial  habits,  come  to  be  increased  and 
sustained  by  the  interchanges  that  take  place  through  travellers. 

When  a  book,  such  as  the  present,  gives,  besides  an  accuracy  of 
innumerable  fects,  an  attractive  account  of  ^em,  it  deserves  doubly 
to  be  well  spoken  of.  Knowledge  that  is  finely  sweetened,  neces- 
sarily thereby  becomes  an  object  of  desire.  It  is  the  pleasure  one 
has  in  reading  such  a  book  as  this,  that  leads  to  the  benefits  we 
have  alluded  to.  What  for  instance  is  the  amount  of  solid  and 
practical  good  that  has  been  conferred  on  Scotland  and  on  the 
thousands  that  have  repaired  to  its  shores,  and  to  its  moontams, 
and  valleys,  through  Scott's  '^  Lady  of  the  Lake,"  and  his  '^  Wa^ 
verly."  It  is  incalculable.  And  we  predict  that  the  volume  before 
us,  will  be  the  means  of  sending  thousands  upon  thousands  more  to 
reap  mental  vigour  and  tenderness  among  the  people  of  the  north, 
and  to  difiuse  all  the  peacefiil  arts  of  civilization.  W  ith  the  purpose 
of  giving  encouragement  to  the  works,  that  through  it  the  nation  and 
the  world  may  fiind  good ;  we  shall  present  a  slight  outline  of  its 
general  observations  on  the  character  of  the  people,  the  scenery^  the 
condition,  and  the  capabilities  of  the  Highlands  and  Islands  of 
Scotland. 

The  portion  of  Ghreat  Britain  which  this  guide  delineates,  compre- 
hends, besides  the  Hebrides,  Orkney,  and  Shetland  Islands,  the 
greater  part  of  Scotland  to  the  north  of  the  Friths  of  Tay  and 
Clyde,  and  the  river  Forth,  with  the  exception  of  the  counties  on 
the  eastern  coast  to  the  south  of  the  Moray  Frith.  The  very  mi- 
nutely and  correctly  detailed  map  which  accompanies  the  volume 
will,  on  a  short  inspection,  point  out  distinctly  the  portion  referred 
to.  It  is  an  extensive  tract,  and,  when  compared  to  the  whole  of 
the  kingdom,  becomes  a  most  considerable  territory.  The  general 
name  of  Highlands  intimates  its  elevated  appearance.  The  moun- 
tains, of  course,  greatly  vary  in  height,  the  highest  being  about 
4,400  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  In  general  they  extend  in 
chains  across  the  country  in  a  direction  from  south-west  to  north- 
east, and  the  larger  valleys  which  intervene  have  a  parallel  direc- 
tion, while  the  intersecting  openings  observe  no  such  regularity. 
The  eastern  side  of  the  north  of  Scotland  for  the  most  part  presents 
a  continuous  unbroken  line  of  coast,  whilst  the  western  is  indented 
by  numberless  narrow  arms  of  the  sea.  The  latter  coast,  also,  ik 
flanked  by  cluslers  of  islands,  forming  an  almost  complete  braorf?^ 
work,  between  the  open  ooean  and  the  mainland ;  the  eastern  share 
is  «Kposed  to  the  All  swell  of  the  German  Sea.  Lakes  and  rivwa, 
llie  most  varied  in  every  Teqpect^ave  interspersed  amoag  the  va]by9» 


€Mie  to  the  Htfhhndg.  U\  - 

which .  many  fltreams  find  their  way.  from  the  adjacent  bigh- 
grcMinds.  Heath  or  ling  is  a  prevailing  covering  of  the.moimt8iB«^ 
diose  of  the  west  being  more  verdant^  and  not  so  heathery  as  the 
other  parts.  The  native  rock,  however,  protrudes  in  miffhty  masses 
m  many  places,  and  the  slopes  and  bases  of  the  him  are  often 
covered  with  gravel  or  fedlen  fragments.  Native  woods  clothe  the 
aedivities  frequently,  overhanging  or  fencing. the  lahes  and  the 
streams.     The  valleys  jure  gladdened  by  hixuriance. 

Such  asurface  must  exhibit  every  variety  of  scenery.  There  is 
theloveliest  of  marine  views  and  clmmpaign  landscapes;  the  solh* 
tade  of  wildernesses,  shut  up  from  the  great  world ;  there  are  ra« 
▼ines,  fastnesses,  alpine  heights,  grassy  meadows,  thundering  cata* 
Mcts;  and  sleeping  lakes,  aLmost  perennial  snows,  shrouding  mists, 
and  sunny  valleys  and  straths.  There  is  the  magnificence  of  fright-* 
fill,  precipices  and  sullen  wildness,  intermixed  with  the  gentler 
grandeur  of  long  arms  of  the  sea,  sending  their  silver  waters  fur  into 
the  bosom  of  the  land;  together  with  die  most  picturesque  lakes^ 
stadded  with  islets^  that  mirror  the  impending  and  adjacent  monn* 
tains.  No  wonder  that  this  **  land  of  mountain  and  flood"  should 
awaken  the  song  of  bards,  and  lend  the  people  the  romantic  cha- 
racter they  possess;  wild^  pensive,  and  tender  as  it  is;  and  that 
wfaethar  ambition  call  or  misfortune  drive  them  to  distant  parts  of 
the  globe,  the  recollection  of  their  native  home  should  haunt  them 
Ui  the  last :  no  wonder  that  such  profuse  greatness  and  beauty 
sboald  attract  from  every  part  of  Europe,  the  admirers  of  noble 
scenery  and  romantic  character. 

The  progress  of  the  Highlanders  to  a  state  of  assimilation  with 
iherestof  the  inhabitants,  of  the  kingdom  till  a  late  period,  was 
remarkably  slow.  The  inaccessible  nature  of  their  country  shut 
tii^m  out  from,  the  gentler  arts  of  civilized  life.  The  chieftains 
were. stormy,  their  vassals  ignorant  and  rude;. the  whole,  hardy, 
Ivave,  and  warlike,  and  characterized  by  all  the  virtues  as  well  as 
vices  of  people  so  situated.  The  two  rebellions  of  1715  and  1745, 
had  some  tendency  towards  introducing  new  manners  amongst 
Ihem.  The  soldiery  stationed  by  Cromwell  in  the  fi>rts  constructed 
by  him,  had  considerable  effect  previously;  but  the  abolition  of 
heritable  jurisdictions,  and  the  coercive  measures  of  government, 
together  with  |the  formation  (of  the  military  roads,  at  last  broke 
op  the  old  system.  A  new  .^eld  of  adventure  was  unfolded  to  the 
yoong  in  civ,il  and  military  professions ;  a  spirit  of  independence 
and  industry  in  the  usefid  arts,  was  universally  difiused.  Mail  and 
other  coaches  r^olarly.mn  to  Inverness;  and  steam-boats . visit, 
it  may  bo  said,  every  creek  and  island  of  the  remarkable  shores. 
Indeed,  to  this  last-mentioned  means  of  communication,  the  most 
sslfmishinif  results  are  to  be  attributed;  and  still  farther  important 
benefits  will  be  derived.  Steam  has  brought  Glasgow  and  Edin- 
faorgfa  within  a  few  hours  travelling  of  places  that  were  before 
w^mt  to  be  visited  once  in  a  lifetime  only  by  the  most  curious. 

k2 


m  (MA  U  "ihe  mfklMb, 

The  drudging  ^d^ms  V  well  ai  ifrealthy  dtfiseas  «f  tKei^  lMf|;9 
townd,  oan^  m  on  aftemooa,  bravel  to  die  sbenery  of  their  biri& 
placetj  that  bdfore  were  at  a  dangerous  uncertain  distance.  Verf 
maay  of  the  Highlanders  may  Inreak&st  in  their  own  shealinfiis^ 
and  ere  the  sun  go  down — ^be  parading  the  busy  streets  of  s|>lencud 
cities*  And  to  oome  near^  oursdves;  the  Londoner  may  in  one 
wefefciy  have  set  his  foot  ub  board  of  a  giAant  and  splendid  sieainelr 
HI  the  Scotch  wharfr  on  the  Thames,  dive  into  the  wild  ^  recesiies 
of  the  Highlands,  and  again  be  in  his  oolmting<-hoaBe  in  o^^ar- 
|;rown  London.  With  this  Guide  in  hfe  hand,  sndi  a  ranter  mmp 
in  a  few  day6.  Know  more  of  the  Highlands^ of  Seotiaiid,  than  fane 
in  a  hundred  of  the  inhabitants  of  its  metropolis  half  a  centory 
ago  knew.  He  may  carry  his  goods  in  such  a  short  time  tb  pMB^ 
that  the  Glasgow  manu&cturer  ndt  long  ago  durst  not  visit  with 
a  view  to  business,  and,  indeed,  did  not  well  know  how  to*  apf- 
picoach.  Merchants,  naturalists,  artists,  sportsm^i,  and  tcAiristB 
of  e^ery  description,  encounter  little  trouble^  incur  tnfling  expense, 
and  waste  bat  a  short  time,  in  now  understanding  all  \m  pmdia- 
rities  of  Highland  hospitality  and  scenery. 

We  shall  extract  a  few  passages  firooi  this  Gvide  to  the  «ela- 
brated  and  now  classic  Highlands  of  Seofland,  from  wfakdi  a..jad($^ 
ment  may  be  formed  of  the  character  of  the  weak :  and  Whikih 
may  more  pkrticnlarly  interest  one  or  other  of  the  rarixnm  rlnsmn 
of  trave&ers*  Inverness,  as  the  capital  bf  diis^great  liOitiieite  de- 
partment, desei^es,  as  it  has  received,  a  copious  aikd  car^tl  eoniA* 
deration;  we  select  the  following  particulars  : — 

«<«  luvemess  Yab  bee^  strangely  underrated.'  00  observes  a  late  ele- 
gant writer,  who  has  even  gone  the  length  of  drawing  a  comparison 
between  the  beauties  of  ite  neighbourhood  and  that  of  Sdinburgb.  « The 
Fnth  of  F6rtb  mtnt  yield  the  palm  to  Momy  Frith,  the-  surrounding 
countlry  must  yield  ahogeliher,  and  InvemcM  asust  take  the  highest  rank. 
Every  thing  is  tkonC)  too,  for  Inverness  that  caa  be  effected  by  wood  and 
cultivation ;  the  eharaeters  of  whick,  here,  have  altogether  a  richnessi  a 
variety,  and  a  freedcm,  whkh  we  miss  round  Sdin]i>utgk.  The  moun- 
tain screens  are  finer,  more  various,  and  more  near.  Each  outlet  is 
different  from  the  others,  and  each  is  beautiful ;  wheth<^r  we  proceed  to- 
wards Fort  George  or  towards  Moy,  or  enter  the  valley  of  tjie  Ness,  or 
kkirt  the  shores  of  the  Beavly  Frith,  while  a  short  and  commodious  ferry 
wafte  us  to  the  lovely  cbuntrv  opposite,  rich  with  wobd,  s^  country 
seats,  and  cultivation.  It  is  the  boast,  also,  of  Inverness  to  unite  two 
'  opposed  qualities,  and  each  in  the  greatest  perfection :  the  characters  of 
a  rich  open  lowland  country  with  those  of  tiie  ^Idedt  ai^ine-seeaefy, 
both,  also,  being  close  at  hand,  and  in  many  pldces  ititennhted ;  while  to 
all  this  is  added  a  series  of  maritime  landscape  not  often  equallad;' 

**  The  name  of  Inverness  denotes  its  situadon  as  neai*  the-efltiuttyof 
the  river  Ness,  which  flows  from  the  great  inland  lake,  tnib  wtese 
waters  fall  those  of  the  celebrated  cataract  of  Foyers.  Hence  tbeCraelic 
word  e«Jr  signifying  a  waterfall,  has  been  bestowed  on  the  whole  country, 
as  well  as  on  the  lock  and  river.     The  course  of  the  last  is  only  about 


^_ ,  ^  o^tah ««i  ijfc  »mfeaiBf  ' iiobk^  Iffcwd,  dear,  aM  stroW/  irbether 
w#«9bt9VQ  it^  At  its  juBction  ieith  tli^  sea  or  trhere  it  fldimfrbm  m  |)a- 
iput  lake,  IbB  banks  are  fringed  with  rows  of  trees,  and  tAonr  beatitifiii' 
floats  wd  villas ;  and  Within  a  mile  of  Ute  totm  it  i^  divided  intd  two* 
Ikanehei  by  an  island^  or  rather 'u  faries  of  lakteds;;  hiscuHalitiy  iMMH 
Hiese,  in  ancient  day8«  were  celebrated  as  the  seenes^of  rural  feasts 
given  by  the  magistrates  of  Inverness  to  the  kingpV  jvidges  when  the]r 
came  here  to  hM  assize  courlB.  Fresh  salaont  caught  iaab  ad|(MBg 
pool,  are  said  to  have  formed  the  chief  delicacy  at  the«e  banquets;  ^iridl# 
claret,  braady,  and  hoQaads,  and  even  the  clas^ia  sack,  flowed  in  abun- 
dance  among  the  gnesb.  Their  -mox^  refined  descendants  have  ou^  the 
sarfaes  of  the  islands  into  pleasuice  watk^;  and  it  is  intended  to  connect 
theoi^tb  the  opposite  banks  by  chain  bridges,  one  of  which  only  has  as 
yiQt  been  finished." 

V  So  late  as  the  period  of  the  Disarming  Act,  men  in  all  parts  of  the 
Highlands  appeared  on  Sundays  as  if  full)"  accoutred  for  war ;  and,  sixty 
y^ais  ago,  only  three  ladieis  with  s'lraw  bonnets  were  to  be  seen  in  the 
High  Church  of  Inverness.  It  appears,  by  the  town  records,  that  the 
streets  were  for  the  first  time  cleaned  at  tlie  public  expense  in  1746,  by 
order  of  the  Duke  of  Cumberland.  From  the  cheapness  of  foreign  winea, 
spirits,  and  ale,  dissipation  prevailed  here,  snd  in  all  -the  northern  towns^ 
even  to  the  end  of  last  century,  to  a  degree  almost  ipconceivaUe.  Now, 
M  distlnetioiis  can  beperceived  in  the  dress,  manners,  or  modes  of  liyiu 
tif  tke  fadnbittttti  of  the  burgh  hoia  those  of  other  iownS  in  ScotlanC 
iodatdf^he^  people  of  Inverness  are  usually  regard^  as  more  advanced 
ilk.  tHsiteeut  tbaa  most  of  their  neighbours. 

« .  *sThA-  town  is  ruled  by  a  provOst,  four  l>ailie8,  a  dean  of  jgiiild,  a  tr^- 
atirer,  and  fourteen  councillors.  The  magistrates  walk  to  'churbh  oh 
Stfnda^  prteeded  by  thc^i-  liclo^  ¥A  in  the  days  ai  kiitA^i  Rome;  and, 
tin  lately,  ^when  reared,  tY(&if  itttehded  in  u  body  the  fuMrals  of  the 
itthabitints. 

*'  Trade,  by  cneani  of  th^  CKl^onite  Giinill,  b  raving.    Living  is 

liot'Heat.    tim  ^Ht  of  industry  and  spedtdation  hAs  called  forth  teve- 

rai  ooupttiies  for  thfe  eiaA^loyflBenatof  capital  and  the  embellishment  of  the 

'  tkywft.    dt^m*biMtB  and  colMdAis  have  rehdered  it  a  gteat  thoroughfare. 

'  Abtft&B  ib  eainiy  had  from  Inverness  to  all  parts  of  the  cpnnty;  and 

'its  ttM,  for  elegance  and  coae^if ,  are  nowhere  snrpassed  in  Scotland.'*-^ 

'\    The  foUowihg  passage  regaf'dd  tbb  battle  of  Ctilloden. 

^  Aiooording  to  the  general  acQounta»  there  were  but  1200  men  killed 

iA  this  engagement,  and  as  many  on  the  J^lnglish  $s  on  their  opponents' 

.aide*    The  woupded  were  left  Uu-ee  days  on  the  field,  and  such  as  then 

isnrvived  were  shot  hsf  order  of  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,     He  set  fire 

to  fr  bam  to  which  many  of  them  had.  r^tir^.    Ip  the  town  of  Inverness, 

;be  inatituted  a  eomphte  military  government;  treated  the  inhabitants 

and  magistrates  with/conteio^t;  and  he  was  afterwards  obliged  to  sue 

out  SMk  aCit  of  indemnity  from  the  British  parliement  for  these  and  other 

dbacitiest  of  which  it  is  notoriously  known  be  was  guilty.     Prince 

Qiarlea's  r9sources»  notwithstanding  the  loss  of  this  battle,  were  by  no 

meaaa  deqwrate.     JBight.tbousand  men  w^re  ready  to  meet  him  at 

RuthiPVeB  in  BadenoclH  ha4  he  signified  his  desire  to  attempt  the  battle- 


9tnfe  oye^  ng^n ;  il^uti  .alter  some, days'  detibecalion,  liiflr-tmly  Mv^eBto 
the  chie£3  who  awaited  him  there  wa9«  '  Let  every .  man  aeek  his'-tafelgr 
in  t^e  heat  way  he  can.' 

''  The  fpUowing  lines,  express  the  thoughts  likely  to  arise  in  the  tour* 
ist's  breast  on  visiting  this  scene,  and  witi^  them  we  close  our  di:etch  :-^ 

"  *  Why  lineer  on  this  battle  heath, 

So  stenle,  wild,  and  lonely  now? 
Stranger,  it  tells  a  tale  of  death. 

That  well  befits  its  barren  brow. 
Nay !  rest  not  on  that  swelling  sod, 

But  let  us  hence :  it  marks  a  grave ! 
Whose  verdure  is  the  price  of  blood, — 

The  heart's  stream  of  the  vainly  brave. 
••  •  Long  years  ago,  from  o'er  the  sea, 

A  banish'd  prince,  of  Stuart's  line. 
Game  hither,  claiming  fealty. 

And  succour  in  his  sire's  decline. 
A  triple  diadem — a  throne- 
Ambitious  toys — ^his  birthright  were ; 
Of  valleys,  lakes,  and  mountains  lone, — 

Of  all  our  country  was  he  heir.' " — pp.  Ill,  1 12, 

Here  is  another  renowned  scene  :  it  is  Cawdor  Castle. 

*^  If  the  name  of  this  cattle  be  not  sufficient  to  excite  cuoceity,  the 
beauties  of  its  situation,  the  freshness  in  which  all  its  appurtanano^e  of 
ancient  feudal  gloom  and  grandeur,  and  means  of  defence,  remain,  wiU 
amply  recompense  the  tourist  for  .  the  trouble  he .  may  be  put  py  •  in 
visiting  it. 

''  Perched  upon  a  low  rock,  overhangi^ig  the  bed  of  a  Highland  toii^ront, 
and  surrounded  on  all  sides  by  the  largest  sized  forest  trees,  which  partly 
conceal  the  extent  of  its  park,  it  stands  a  relic  of  the  work  of  several  agea» 
a  weather-beaten  tower,  encircled  by  newer  and  less  elevated  dwellings; 
the  whole  being  enclosed  within  a  moat,  and  approachable  only,  by  a 
drawbridge,  which  rattles  on  its  chains  just  as  in  the  years  long  gone  by. 
This  castle  is  still  inhabited :  the  staircase,  the  iron^grated  doors  and 
wickets,  the  large  baronial  kitchen,  partly  formed  out  of  the  native  Fock, 
the  hall,  the  old  furniture,  the  carved  mantel-pieeea,  ^e.  quantity  of 
figured  tapestry,  and  even  the  grotesque  family  mirrors,  in  use  200  years 
ago,  are  still  cherished  and  preserved  by  the  family.  The  drawbridge 
and  gateway  are  particularly  worthy  of  notice. 

"  Tradition  in  this  quarter  asserts  that  good  King  Duncan  was  mur- 
dered in  this  castle  by  his  relative  Macbeth,  who  was  his  sister's  son. 
Some  of  the  old  Scottish  chronicles,  as  interpreted  by  Lord  Hailes»  refer 
to  a  smith's  hut,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Elgin,  as  the  place  where  the 
mortal  blow  was  given,  and  render  it  probable  that  the  unfortunate  mo- 
narch breathed  his  last  within  some  of  the  religious  houses  then  already 
built  there;  while  Shakspeare  and  his  commentators,  following  the 
authority  of  Buchanan,  assign  Macbeth's  castle  at  Inverness  as  the  scene 
of  the  murder.  Few  would  feel  an  interest  in  searching  out  the  disa- 
greeable truth  on  this  point,  even  were  it  now  practicable  to  do  so.  It 
is,  At  least,  undoubted,  that  Macbeth  may  have  had  strong  holds  in  all 
the  places  mentioned,  ds,  on  his  marriage,  he  became,  in  right  xif  hk 


Qmd&  to  ike  Hi§kiimdi.  195 

wJfeChrouoli,  Maonnor,  or  great  Celtic  lord,  of  Moray,  ^ving  l>y  birth 
'tiie  MDne  power  attached  to  diat  namcj  in  the  adjoining  country  of  Rosa ; 
and  that  King  Duncan  was  betrayed  and  sldn  while  residing  at  one  of 
his  nephew's  castles,  on  his  way  to  reduce  Torfin,  the  Scandinavian  Jarl 
of  Caithness,  to  submission,  he  haying  refiised  to  render  the  customary 
tribute  to  the  Scottish  crown. 

**  The  scenery  about  Cawdor  Castle,  as  akeady  stated,  is  of  the  richest 
and  most  picturesque  description.  In  the  park  are  several  of  the  largest 
oaks,  sycamores,  limes,  elms,  ash,  and  pine  trees  in  the  north  of  Scotland ; 
one  magnificent  stem  of  ash  alone  measuring  twenty-three  feet  in  cir- 
cumference at  a  foot  from  the  ground,  and  seventeen  feet  in  g^rth  at  the 
distance  of  eight  feet  from  the  root.  The  garden  also  presents  a  fine 
specimen  of  an  ancient  yew  tree,  and  the  adjoining  woods  and  rocks 
abound  in  many  interesting  plants,  deserving  the  search  of  the  botanist, 
and  especially  in  ferns,  among  which  the  splendid  Saolopendnum  wdgare 
(xscurs  in  great  luxuriance." — pp.  ]  14 — 1 18. 

Some  idea  may  be  formed  of  the  scale  of  the  floods  that  roll 
down  from  the  Highland  mountains  and  along  the  plains  from  the 
following  account  di  one  of  the  greatest  on  record^  which  occurred 
between  the  2nd  and  4th  of  August  in  the  year  1829. 

*'  The  previous  summer  had  been  a  remarkably  dry  one,  especially  in 
Morayshire.  An  accumulation  of  vapours  appears  to  have  taken  place 
to  the  north-east  of  the  British  Isles,  and  a  storm  of  wind  and  rain,  com- 
mencing at  the  Orkneys,  seems  to  have  been  impelled  across  the  Moray 
Frith,  and  to  have  discharged  itself  on  the  Cairngorm  and  Monaliagh 
mountains,  the  first  high  ground  which  it  met'.  On  the  coast  but  few 
indications  of  the  coming  deluge  were  perceived,  except  vast  columns  of 
clouds  hurrying  to  the  southward.  After  these,  however,  were  broken 
on  the  mountains,  the  whole  atmosphere  became  surcharged  with  mois- 
ture, which  descended  in  a  small,  penetrating  rain,  almost  as  fine  as  dew, 
but  so  continuous,  that,  at  Huntly  Lodge,  where  accurate  observations 
were  taken,  in  the  course  of  twenty-four  hours,  3|  inches  of  rain  fell; 
which,  as  compared  with  the  average  of  all  the  years  from  1821  to  1828 
inclusive,  is  equal  to  one  sixth  part  of  the  whole  annual  allowance  of  rain 
for  these  years. 

*'  The  loss  of  human  life  on  this  occasion  was,  on  the  whole,  very 
Inconsiderable  *  but  the  value  and  quantity  of  land  destroyed,  of  houses 
overturned,  and  of  valuable  timber  torn  lip  by  the  roots  along  the  Find- 
horn  and  the  other  rivers  affected  by  the  flood,  extending  over  a  line  of 
from  500  to  ^00  miles,  exceeded  all  calculation.  Some  idea,  however, 
of  the  awful  effects  produced  by  this  impetuous  torrent  of  water  may  be 
formed  from  the  fact,  that,  in  the  Findhom  Tas  related  in  the  very 
interesting  and  complete  account  of  the  flood  puoiished  by  Sir  Thomas 
Dick  Lauder),  it  rolled  along  masses  of  rock  of  from  six  to  eight  tons* 
weight ;  that  in  the  Streens  it  rose  from  fifteen  to  twenty-five  feet  above 
its  ordinary  level ;  forty  feet  at  Dulsie  Bridge ;  and  at  the  more  open 
0|iace  whera  the'Fomess  Bridge  stands,  it  overtopped  the  parapets  twenty. 
B0VM1  feet  above  its  u^al  *bed.  The  height  of  the  parapet  of  Daltlich 
-Bridge,  sbove  i^e  common  line  of  the  stream,  is  forty-four  feet,  of  which 
tlie  flood  Mfee  thin/Jone  feet;  and  at  the  gorge  below,  on  the  Relugas 
p«dpert]r,*the  ^RftiteiP  aetually  ascended  over  the  very  tops  of  the  rocks, 


136  Gmi^t^tyHigUtmif. 


Raimoch-luu^b,  wUpb  lies  OYi;r  tho^  to  tJiie  depth  of  fo^r  f^^y-rfii^qkiiig 
a  iotql  ferprnidicular  rise  at  tjus  pohlH  af  fko  l^s  tfiofi^  JUtu  feiff.  „  In 
the.  rapids  ^  the  Ht^&e^^  q^  the  Lpgie  property,  the  flood  a^sp  stc^^d  9/b 
this  l96t-9ientioned.  height ;  but  belov  the  estate  of  $\\^e^  the  quantity  of 
water  was  more  easily  aspertained  by  its  .destructi^^neiis  tp  the  AfMf* 
imUs,  and  o^er  buildipffs  along,  h^  b^ks,  than  by  it^  jdepth.  Of  4be* 
bc^^tiful  l^ridge  of  F^ndhorn,  neap  Forrfis,  consisting  of.  fHU^  §fx^  of 
ni^ety-fiye  feet  fua«|  two  others  of  seventy -rfiye  fee^  spf^i  e||ch,  up  t^ppce 
was.  left  bnt  a  fragment  of  the  northern  }and-breast  an4  Pf^  of  the 
inclined  approach  from  the  south.  All  the  s^^on  pools  in  ^&  rurer 
were  chang»l  or  filled  up ;  and  the  water  wa^  so  Ipog  impregna^  ^P^ 
sand  and  mud,  that  the  fish  have  not  even  yet  returned  in  s^di  nmnbera 
as  they  were  wont  ipdo."--pp.  143, 144. 

GleDBiore  pr^ents  great  magnifioence  of  a  oertaia  daaa :  owing 
to  its  simple  grandeuv  of  okarsoter ;  there  is  fmother  eatts^  for  the 
atvoiig  iiselings  it  excites  in  the  bosom  of  the  travellers. 

**  But  it  is  the  wredc  of  the  ancient  forest  which  arrests  aU  the  atten- 
tion, ^nd  which  render?  Gleno^ore  a  melancholy-— more  then  %  piet^n- 
choly — a  terrific  spectacle.  Trees  of  enormous  height,  whi^h  have  es- 
caped alike  the  axe  and  the  tempest,  ai^^  still  standmg,  stripped  by  .the 
winds  even  of  their  bark,  and,  like  gigantic  skeletons,  thro'wing  far  Bp/i 
wide  their  white  and  bleached  bones  to  the  storms  ana  rains  or  heaven ; 
while  others,  broken  by  the  violence  of  the  gales,  lift  their  split  aii4 
fractured  trunks  in  a  thousand  shapes  of  resistance  and  of  destruction,  or 
still  display  son^e  knotted  aqd  tortuouf  branches,  .8tretche4  Qut  in  l^urdy 
and  fitntastic  fprms  of  defiance  by  tb.e  wbi^'lwind  and  the  winter.  It  is 
one  wide  bpage  of  death,  as  if  the  aiigel  of  destruction  had  pasped  ove^ 
the  valley.  The  sight  even  of  a  felled  tree  is  panful ;  still  more  ^.t^t 
of  the  fallen  forest,  with  all  its  green  branches  on  the  groimd  witheiing, 
silent,  and  at  rest,  where  once  they  ^Uttered  in  the  dew  and  the  sim,  and 
trembled  in  the  breeze.  Yet*  this  is  but  an  image  of  vegetable  death : 
it  is  familiar,  and  the  impression  passes  ^way'.  l\  is  the  naked  skeleton 
bleaching  in  the  winds,  the  gigantic  bones  of  the  forest  still  ere9t,.|h^ 
speaking  records  of  former  life,  and  of  strength  still  unsubdued,  vigoi^us 
even  in  death,  which  renders  Glenmore  one  enormous  chaniel4iQU8e. 
The  W9od  in,  this  valley  was  sold  to  the  York  Buildings  Company  for 
lOfiOOl. ;  and  it  is  said  their  profits  exceeded  70,000/.— p.  167. 

The  tour  by  the  Caledonian  Canal  hat  beeome  a  iarourite  «te ; 
and  no  where  in  the  Biiliafa  Isles  is  such  a  oontinuoos  extent  of 
romantic  and  varied  scenery  to  be  foond.  Several  steam  b6ats  ply 
weekly  between  Glasgow  and  Inverness^  by  this  line.  We  cannot 
find  room  for  particalars  about  the  extent  of  trade  connected  .with 
this  great  canal.  We  rather  present  two  tracts  of  the  higlj)^^ 
character  in  ftncient  times  as  exhibited  in  it?  yicinity. 

'*  Two  chi^.  Glengarry  and  Lochiel,  to  try  As  /eaeapanitivje  nmls.^ 
their  followers  b  the  bonourable^rt  pf  thieybg,  agreed  that  the  tfmmfn 
in  their  respective  taUf  mgst  reputed  for  their  dciU  ahoiald  be  sep^lOgt- 
ther  to  make  ti^al  of  their  abiUtieB»  at  the  expeme  of  Ibe  okem  hunted 
Inyernessians.     Haviog  net  by  appeintufient,  tivpy.  jogged  A)eng  -iMry 


Guide  to  the  Highiands.  137 

l^oniitlfy,'  revolving' schemes  to  distinguisli  themselves  in  the  eyes  of  their 
<^ie&,aiid  fellow-clansmen.  When  they  had  advanced  beyond  Inver- 
▼orislipii,  however,  the  Glengarry  man,  in  unwonted  strain,  began  to  ex- 
fii^Bba  to  his  companion  his  dissatisfaction  at  being  thus  called  upon  to  obey 
every  capricious  whim  of  liis  chief ;  and  at  last  said  he  was  resolved,  in 
this  instance  at  least,  to  gratify  his  own  inclinations  at  all  risks,  and  that 
he  was  determined  to  trouble  himself  no  more  about  their  present  object. 
The  Lochiel  candidate  readily  consented  to  their  returning  homewards  ; 
agreed  that  they  should  pass  the  night  where  they  then  were,  and,  congra 
filiating  himself  on  the  prospect  of  his  easy  triumph,  he  have  himself  up 
•to  deep  and  unsuspecting  slumber.    He  accompanied  Macdonell  to  Inver- 

Sarry,  that  he  might  enjoy  the  chief  *s  mortification  at  the  singular  beha- 
[our  of  his  chosen  servant.     Glengarry  and  his  clansmen  clamorously 
▼ented  their  wrath  against  the  supposed  culprit,  and  were  about  to  inflict 
,  ^ftf.puaiiihiMnti  suitable  to  \aa  offeniie,  when  he  slily  asked  Cameron  to 
..^un^Qld  hid  pUid,.  .  On  doing  so,  it  was  found  that  the  cunning  Macdonell 
had,  while ^Caiiayejpn  slept,  cut  from^  a;  part  where  it  was  lea^t  likely  to  be 
missed  as  much  of  his  plaid  as  served  topaake  a  pair  of  .hose,  in  fashioning 
which,  he  employed  the  houra  of  night,  and  travelled  in  them  to  Inver- 
garry.  r  This  e:^pofie  con^p^etely  turned  ^he  tables  against  poor  Cameron, 
whose  discomfiture  was  extreme  at  finding  he  had  been  sq  easily  over- 
reaejied,  and  that  his  observation  h^d  been  too  obtuse  to  remark  thecir- 
cums^c^.  ot  his  companion,  wearing  all  day  hose  of  the  Cameron  pattern. 
.    Such  is  an  example  of  the  sort  of  incident  which  served  to  relieve  the 
ennui  of  ancient  feudal  timies.*' — pp.  247,  248. 

This  display  took  place  nearly  opposite  the  house  of  Foyers,  in 
the  Mighbouthood  of  the  celebrated  falls  of  that  name.  The 
Raid  of  Cillie-christ  (Christ  Church)  was  connected  with  the 
same  locality. 

"  In  th^  early  part  of  the  seventeenth  century*  Agnus,  eldest  son  of 
Glengarry,  had  made  a  foray  into  the  Mackenzie'?  country  :  on  his  way 
horn?,  he  was,  intercepted  by  a  gallant  little  band  of  Mackenzies,  and 
slai^  with  a  number  of  his  followers.     Some  time  thereafter  a  strong 

erty  of  Glengarry's  men  were  sent,  under  the  command  of  Allan  Mac 
ionuifl  of  Lundy,  to  revenge  his  death. ,  Allan  led  them  into  the  parish 
'of  Urray,  in  Rossshire,  on  a  Sunday  morning,  and  surprised  a  numerous 
body  of  the  .Mackenzies  assembled  at  prayer  within  the  walls  of  Cillie- 
christ,  near  Beauly ;  for  so  was  their  little  chapel  called.  Placing  his  fol- 
lowex?  so  as  to  prevent  all  possibility  of  escape,  Allan  gave  ordej^  to  set 
•  die  bnilding.  on  fire.  The  miserable  victims  found  all  attempts  at  escape 
unavaiKng,  and  were,  without  a  single  exception, — ^man,  woman,  and 
child, — AWallowed  up  by  the  devouring  element,  or  indiscriminately  mas- 
sacred by  the  swords  of  the  relentless  Macdonells,  whilst  a  piper  marched 
roupd  the  church,  playing  an  extemporary  piece  of  music,  which  has  ever 
since  been  the  pibroch  orthe  Glengarry  family. 

**  The  work  of  death  being  completed,  Allan  deemed  a  speedy  retreat 

^^Mcpedlent :  -  but  the  incendiaries  were  not  to  escape  with  impunity  ;  for 

'Ae  ftmeraf  pile  of  their  clansmen  roused  the  Mackenzies  to  arms  as 

«ffl^ctulll}y,  as  if  the  fiery  cross  had  been  carried  through  their  valleys. 

Tliftir  force  was  divided  into'  two  bodies :  one  commanded  by  Murdoch 

Maokenciei  of  Red  Castle,  proceeded  by  Inverness,  with  the    view  of 

yoi.«in.  (1834.)  no.  i  l 


138  Guide  to  the  Highlands. 

fdllowing  the  pursuit'along  the  southern  side  of  Loch  Ness;  whilst  ano« 
ther,  headed  by  Alexander  Mackenzie  of  CouU,  struck  across  the  country, 
from  Beauly  to  the  northern  bank  of  the  lake,  in  the  footsteps  of  another 
party  which  had  fled  in  this  direction,  with  their  leader,  Allan  Mac 
Raonuill.  The  Mackenzies  overtook  these  last,  as  they  sought  a  brief 
repose  in  some  hills  near  the  burn  of  Altsay.  The  Macdonells  maintained 
an  unequal  conflict  for  some  time  with  much  spirit,  but  were  at  length 
forced  to  yield  to  superior  numbers,  and  fled  precipitately  to  the  burn. 
Many,  however,  missed  the  ford,  and,  the  channel  being  rough  and  rocky, 
were  overtoken  and  slain  by  the  victorious  Mackenzies.  Allan  Mac 
Raonuill  made  towards  a  spot  where  the  burn  rushed  through  a  yawning 
chasm  of  great  depth  and  breadth.  Forgetting  the  danger  of  the  attempt 
in  the  hurry  of  his  flight,  and  the  agitation  of  the  moment,  and  being  of 
an  atheltic  frame,  and  at  the  time  half  naked,  he  vigorously  strained  at, 
.and  succeeded  in  clearing  the  desperate  leap.  One  of  the  Mackenzies  in- 
considerately followed  him,  but,  wanting  the  impulse  of  those  powerful 
feelings  which  had  put  such  life  and  mettle  into  Allan's  heels,  he  had  not 
the  fortune  to  reach  the  top  of  the  bank :  grasping,  however,  the  branch 
of  a  birch  tree,  he  hung  suspended  over  the  abyss.  Mac  Raonuill, 
observing  his  situation,  turned  back  and  lopped  off  the  branch  with  his 
dirk,  exclaiming,  '  I  have  left  much  behind  me  with  you  to-day ;  take 
that  also.'  Allan  got  considerably  ahead  of  his  followers ;  and,  having" 
gained  the  brink  of  the  loch  bethought  him  of  attempting  to  swim  across, 
and,  plunging  in,  he  lustily  breaated  its  cool  and  refreshing  waters. 
Being  observed  from  the  opposite  side,  a  boat  was  sent  out  which  picked 
him  up. 

**  The  party  of  the  Macdonells,  who  fled  by  Inverness,  were  surprised 
by  Red  castle  in  a  public-house  at  Torbreck,  three  miles  to  the  west  of 
the  town,  where  they  stopped  to  refresh  themselves :  the  house  was  set  on 
Are,  and  they  all,  thirty-seven  in  number,  suffered  the  death  they  had  in 
the  early  part  of  the  day  so  wantonly  inflicted." — pp.  248,  249. 

Of  the  falls  themselves. 

"  The  falls  of  Foyers  arc  distant  about  a  mile  from  the  inn ;  and  being 
close  to  the  public  road  to  Fort  Augustus,  can  easily  be  found  without  a 
guide.  The  river  Foyers,  after  passing  across  the  highly  elevated  and 
chiefly  moorland  and  open  district  of  country  lying  to  the  south  of  Loch 
Ness,  on  its  reaching  the  hills  which  skirt  that  lake,  enters  a  deep  and 
narrow  ravine,  at  the  commencement  of  which  it  is  precipitated  over  a 
ledge  of  rock,  about  thirty  feet  in  height,  forming  the  upper  fall.  To 
view  it  to  the  best  advantage,  (and  the  traveller  should  first  visit  this 
upper  fall,  to  which  the  public  road  and  a  bridge  across  the  rive^  will 
lead  him,)  it  is  necessary  to  descend  to  the  channel  of  the  river  below  the 
bridge.  From  this  position,  the  appearance  of  the  headlong  and  tumul- 
tuous mass  of  waters  is  very  imposing ;  while  the  high  and  perpendicular 
rocks  between  which  the  river  pours  its  noisy  and  troubled  flood,  and- the 
aerial  single-arched  bridge  which  has  been  thrown  across  the  chasm,  add 
much  to  the  picturesque  effect.  A  pathway  will  be  found  immediately 
beside  the  bridge,  and  on  the  west  side  of  the  stream,  which  conducts  to 
the  pioper  point  of  view.  It  is,  however,  somewhat  difficult  to  reach  this 
situation ;  and  the  generality  of  visiters  content  themselves  with  ths'view 
from  the  bridge  or  the  rocks  above  the  fall.    Below  the  fall,  .the  ckuuael 


Guide  to  if*€  Highlands.  139 

of  the  river  is  deep  and  rocky,  and  shelves  rapidly  down  towards  the 
lake :  the  mountain  sides  are  clothed  with  luxuriant  woods  of  birch ;  and 
the  liver,  interrupted  in  its  course  by  numerous  masses  of  rock,  is  lashed 
into  foam,  and  hurries  impetuously  forward  for  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile. 
It  then  encounters  a  second  abrupt  descent,  and  is  dashed  through  a 
narrow  gap,  or  opening,  over  a  height  of  about  ninety  feet,  into  a  deep 
and  spacious  linn,  surrounded  with  lofty,  precipitous  rocks.  From  one 
side  of  this  gulf,  a  high  ledge  of  rock,  projecting  in  front  of  the  fall, 
obstructs  all  sight  of  it  from  any  point  along  the  margin  of  the  river.  As 
we  approach  this  greater  cataract,  the  ground  is  felt  to  tremble  from  the 
shock  of  the  falling  water ;  and  the  ear  is  stunned  with  its  sullen  and 
ceaseless  roar.  A  winding  footpath  strikes  off  from  the  public  road,  at 
the  commencement  of  a  parapet  wall,  and  leads  down  to  a  green  bank,  on 
the  poiut  of  the  projecting  barrier,  directly  opposite  to  and  on  a  level  with 
the  middle  of  the  fall.  Here  the  eye  can  scan  the  terrors  of  the  troubled 
gulf  beneath,  the  whole  extent  of  the  fall,  and  of  the  stupendous  over- 
hanging rocks,  waving  with  birch,  and  partially  covered  with  a  rank 
mossy  vegetation,  forced  into  life  by  the  volumes  of  vapour  which  float 
around.  The  accompaniments  of  wood  and  rock,  and  mountain  slope,  are 
always  attractive ;  but  when  the  river  is  swollen  with  rain,  the  scene 
assumes  the  features  of  sublimity,  and  the  spectator  regards  it  with 
mingled  feelings  of  awe  and  admiration.  The  living  spirit  of  the  waters 
wakens,  with  thundering  call,  the  echoes  of  the  solitude :  every  other 
sound  is  drowned,  and  all  nature  seems  attentive  to  the  voice  of  the 
billing  element ;  and  the  mighty  cauldron  is  filled  with  shifting  masses  of 
spray  frequently  illuminated  with  the  bright  and  lambent  tints  of  a  rain- 
bow."—pp.  862—264. 

In  the  neighbourhood  of  Fort  William,  the  most  prominent 
feature  is  Ben  Nevis,  long  though  inaccurately  reputed  the  highest 
mountain  in  Great  Britain. 

The  following  ia  a  felicitous  description  of  an  appalling  aspect 
of  waters. 

'*  Corryvreackan,  the  strait  between  the  northern  extremity  of  Jura 
and  the  mountainous  island  of  Scarba,  possesses  a  wide-spread  notoriety. 
The  commotion  of  the  tides  pouring  through  this  narrow  passage  is 
heightened  by  a  large  sunk  rock.  This  dangerous  communication  is 
studiously  avoided  by  vessels;  and  to  small  craft  at  certain  times  it 
would  prove  sure  destruction.  The  author  of  the  Statistical  Account  of 
Jura  gives  us  the  following  lively  picture  of  this  whirlpool : — *  The  gulf 
is  most  awful  with  the  flowing  tide ;  in  stormy  weather  with  that  tide 
it  exhibits  an  aspect  in  which  a  great  deal  of  the  terrible  is  blended. 
Vast  openings  are  formed,  in  which,  one  would  think,  the  bottom  might  . 
be  seen ;  immense  bodies  of  water  tumble  headlong  as  over  a  precipice, 
then,  rebounding  from  the  abyss,  they  dash  together  with  inconceivable 
impetuosity,  and  rise  foaming  to  a  prodigious  height  above  the  surface. 
The  noise  of  their  conflict  is  heard  throughout  the  surrounding  islands." 
—p.  366. 

Here  is  a  finer  and  lovelier  subject. 

**  Ijoch  Lomond,  ^  the  lake  full  of  Islands/  is  unquestionably  the  pride 
of  Scottiah  lakes,  from  its  extent,  its  numerous  islands,  and  the  varied 
efaonder  of  its  scenery.    Ita  length  is  about  twenty-three  miles.    At 


140  Guide  to  the  Hufhiandi. 

its  lowest  extremity,  where  it  idsinuatds  ite  %ater8  into  tbe  Vale  of 
Leven,  it  is  for  a  space  quite  narrow;  it  then  expands  on  either  hand, 
but  especially  on  the  east  sitie,  and  attains  in  some  places  a  breadth  of 
seYen  or  eight  miles.  Its  banks  again  approach  towards  each  ot^r,  anA 
thence  to  its  termination  the  lake,  winding  among  the  projecting  armi^ 
of  primitiTe  mountains,  and  sHghtly  altering  at  interrals  its  general 
bearings,  alternately  contracts  and  dilates  its  surface*  as  it  meets  and 
wheeh  round  the  impending  headlands,  among  which  it  at  last  loaes^ 
itself  in  a  narrow,  prolonged  stripe  of  water.  The  mountains,  in  general* 
gradually  increase  in  height,  steepness,  and  irregularity  of  surface  to- 
wards the  head  of  the  lake.  Those  on  the  west  are  intersected  by  various 
successive  glens,  as  Fruin,  Finlass,  Luss,  Douglas,  Tarbet,  and  Sloy. 
The  opposite  mountains  are  more  unbroken.  Numerous  little  bays  in- 
dent the  shores,  their  bounding  promontories  cozisisting  at  the  lower  end 
of  flat  alluvial  deposits,  but  towards  the  upper  parts  of  the  lake  passing 
into  inclined  rocky  slopes  and  abrupt  acclivities.  At  the  lower  extre* 
mity  also,  there  are  large  tracts  of  arable  ground ;  while  above  JLusa  tiiey 
oceur  only  at  intervals  in  the  mouth  of  the  glens,  at  the  bottom  of 
ravines,  or  in  open  spaces  created  by  the  partial  receding  of  the  hiUs^ 
Interrupted  masses  of  wood  and  coppice  diversify  the  face  of  the  hiljs  Da 
the  south  side ;  while  broad  zones  envelope  the  lower  portions  of  the 
mountains  at  the  head  of  the  lake,  oak  coppice,  mixed  with  alder,  birch, 
and  hazel,  predominating.  In  the  broader  part,  the  surface  of  the  water 
is  studded  with  islands  of  many  sizes  and  various  aspects — flat,  eloping* 
rocky,  heathy,  cultivated,  and  wooded.  The  islands  are  about  thirty  m 
number;  and  of  these,  ten  are  of  considerable  size,  as  Inchconaffan, 
which  is  half  a  mile  long;  Inchtavanach  and  Inchmoan,  each  three 
quarters ;  Jnchlonaig,  a  mile ;  and  Inchmurren  (the  most  southerly)  two 
miles  in  length.  These  two  last  are  used  as  deer  parka  by  the  families 
of  Luss  and  Montrose,  and  it  was  long  the  practice  to  place  insane. per- 
sons and  confirmed  drunkards  in  some  of  the  islands.  Several  gentlemen'^ 
residences,  which  encompass  the  lower  end  of  the  lake,  are  surrounded 
by  richly  wooded  parks.  A  few  miles  beyond  Luss  we  have  to  admire 
successive  mountain  slopes,  rising  one  behind  another  in  rugged  acclivi- 
ties, feathered  with  oak  coppice,  aud  irregular  rocky  precipices,  shootiog 
up  above;  the  ample  sides  of  Ben  Lomond,  in  particular,  extending 
north  and  south  in  lengthened  slopes,  his  lofty  head — a  compressed  peak 
— aspiring  to  the  clouds ;  while  towards  the  head  of  the  lake  the  towering^ 
alps  of  Arroquhar  and  Glenfialloch,  with  their  bulky  forms,  abrupt  sides, 
peaked  summits,  and  jagged  outlines,  terminate  the  prospect. "^-p.  340. 

From  these  extracts  some  notion  may  be  obtained  of  the  elegance ' 
and  fulness  with  which  this  volume  treats  of  every  thing  interesting 
in  the  highlands.  We  can  speak  of  its  accuracy,  many  of  the  pa.rts 
described  being  well  known  by  us.  There  are  besides  a  guide  tA 
tourists  in  search  of  the  beautiful  and  sublime^  chapters  on  the 
Geology  and  Botany^  the  Antiquities,  the  Vitrified  Forts,  &c.  dt 
the  highlands  and  islands,  which  are  densely  filled  with  information  ; 
and  we  conclude  by  declaring  that  in  every  respect  the  work  is 
highly  valuaUe,  and  should  be  in  the  hands  of  every  one  who  either 
purposes  to  make  a  highland  tour,  or  beoome  versant  in  the  history 
of  such  an  important  p(»rtion  of  the  British  l^mpire. 


141 

NOTICB8. 


Ars^  X. — The  CoufU^s  o/  E^se»% 
a  Tragedy,  liondon :  Murray^ 
1834. 

Ths  leading*  characters  in  this  five- 
act  drama  belong  to  the  reign  of 
James  1.  of  England.  There  is  the 
Countess  of  Essex,  who  divorced 
from  her  first  lord,  "becomes  through 
a  guilty  passion,  the  Countess  of 
So^ierset.  Xh^re  is  the  Viscount 
Rochester,  her  second  husband,  af- 
terwards Earl  of  SomeTset,favourite 
of  the  king  \  and  Sir  Thomas  Over- 
buiy,  who  through  the  mach^ina- 
tions  of  the  Countess,  is  imprisoned 
and  poisoned.  Disg^race  overtakes 
the  guil^  ps^^*  <^^  ^^  tragedy 
ends  with  a  separation  between 
them,  occasioned  through  the  re- 
morse, and  returning  virtue  of  So- 
merset.' There  is  good  writing  in 
th^'j^iece,'  and  some  striking  situ- 
ations ;  hut  it  wants  variety,  stir, 
and  power.  The  plot  is  'meagre  and 
feebly  managed ;  and  the  winding- 
up  not  6c|uai  to  the  earlier  scenes, 
■^    ■  -  ■ '    .  —  -  — 

A:Kn^,lSS..^TheB€manee  of  History, 
'^lidfy.  By  C.  Macfarlane.  In 
lbn%  vols. — ^Vol.  1.  London: 
BhU  at  Churton,    HoUe^street, 

This  first  volume  of  a  work  that' 
is  wellknown^  contains  The  Fes- 
tival of*  Monza ;  The  Wandering 
King;  Th^  Last  of  the  Lom- 
bards; The  Pope's  Daughter; 
The  Captive  Queen;  and  The 
Norman  Pilgrims.  The  work  is 
printed  and  bound  up  according 
to  the  present  fashion  of  the  11- 
brarieS;  and  the  popular  collec- 
tions of  novels,  poems,  and  other 
celebrated  publications,  that  ap- 
pe^  monthly;  consisting  of  a 
series  of  volumes.  These  tales 
belbng  to  the  dark  ages,  Mr, 
Macfarlane  thinking  such  periods 


peculiarly  within  the  province  o( 
•Komantic  Annals ;  and  mare  to 
the  south  of  Italy  than  to  the 
north,  because  the  history  and 
soenery  of  the  kingdom  cf  Na* 
pies,  are,  in  his  opinion,  still 
more  suitable  to  his  purpose  than 
those  of  Upper  Italy. 

It  seems  a  very  indefinite  and 
upcertain  attempt  thus  to  illus- 
trate History ;  and  nothing  short 
of  an  intimate  acquaintance  with 
the  age  and  its  materials  can 
enable  a  writer  to  embody^ the 
characteristic  features  and  spirit 
of  a  oonntry  and  peofde.  Scott 
in  his  historical  romances  and 
tales  has  succeeded  so  well,  as 
perhaps,  to  afiford  a  more  vivid 
likeness  of  his  subjects,  than  the 
most  grave  and  laborious  chro- 
niclers have  ever  done.  Mr.  Mac- 
farlane, we  wiU  not  say,  has  come 
up  to  the  great  magiciam  still 
bis  attempt  is  good  and  praise- 
worthy ;  whilst  his  tales,  as  such^ 
are  beautiful  and  tasted.  The 
illustrations  of  this  volume  by 
Landseer,  are  as  luci^y  detailed, 
yet  soft  and  delicate,  as  any  thing 
m  the  same  order  of  art,  we  ev^ 
beheld. 

Art.  XII. — The  Hanwell  Extracts. 
London :  Longman  &  Co.,  1834. 

In  the  preface  we  are  told,  that 
the  Hanwell  Academic  Institu- 
tion was  established  for  the  pur- 
pose of  advancing  a  system  of 
education,  in  which,  emulation, 
rewards,  and  punishments  are 
superseded  by  purer  and  mora 
enduring  motives, — those  arising 
from  the  culture  and  regulation 
of  the  aflkctions ;  and,  that  ere 
long,  the  experiment  was   sue- 


142 


NotiCfii' 


cessfiil;  and  proved  the  ^superi- 
ority of  the  principle  recognised 
and  held  forth  as  a  guide.  In 
selecting  exercises  for  readings 
those  passages  which  inculcate  or 
celebrate  sentiments  at  variance 
with  the  moral  culture  of  the  pu- 
pils^  have  been  avoided.  Shak- 
speare,  therefore,  and  other  dis- 
tinguished writers,  have  been  in 
a  great  measure  forsaken,  because 
revenge,  or  a  love  of  miUtary 
glory  are  the  great  themes  of 
their  praise.  Even  the  speech  of 
Young  Norval,  in  the  tragedy  of 
Douglas,  falls  under  this  charge. 
Instead  of  these  things,  an  at- 
tempt is  made  to  generate  a  dis- 
position that  will  confer  dignity 
on  useful  pursuits  and  humble 
efforts. 

This  attempt  which  is  so  praise- 
worthy, looks  therefore,  much 
more  to  the  moral  influence  of 
the  paissages  extracted,  than  to 
the  merit  of  composition.  Ac- 
cordingly we  have  matter  drawn 
from  sources  not  usually  resorted 
to  in  such  collections  as  this.  The 
works  quoted  from  are  chiefly 
modem,  among  which  we  observe 
the  Penny  Magazine  figures.  We 
have  no  objection  to  this  :  but  in 
not  a  few  instances  we  think 
higher  authority,  and  happier 
extracts  might  have  been  found, 
than  several  here  resorted  to. 
The  only  other  peculiarities  of 
importance  in  this  compilation 
are,  that  particular  duties  and 
subjects  are  treated  in  the  chap- 
ter, and  without  separating  the 
poetry  from  the  prose,  with  such 
a  distribution  of  anecdotes  as 
tends  to  illustrate  and  enliven  the 
sentiments  inculcated. 

Every  good  man  must  wish 
success  may  attend  the  endea- 


vours of  the  conductors  of  the 
Hanwell  Academy.  We  of  the 
old  school  ere  only  somewhat 
sceptical  as  regards  the  practical 
results  of  the  experiment.  Yet^ 
it  seems  to  be  in  consononce  with 
the  principles  of  Christianity, 
and  if  wisely  managed ;  if  on  a 
basis  sufficiently  broad  and  en- 
lightened all  the  branches  of  the 
Institution  be  regulated,  we  doabt 
not  of  its  success. 

Art.  XIII. — A  Letter  to  GenercU 
Ld,  Beresford^  being  an  Answer 
to  his  Lordship^s  assumed  Refu- 
tation of  Colonel  Napier^ s  Justi- 
fication of  his  Third  Volume. 
By  W.  P.  Napibk,  C.  B.  Lon- 
don :  T.  and  W.  Boone,  New 
Bond  Street.     1834. 

We  cannot  here  undertake  to  give 
an  opinion  on  the  merits  of  this 
controversy,  reRpecting  matten  in 
themselves  so  disputable,  and  so 
distant  from  our  cognizance.  On'e 
thing,  however,  is  manifest,  and  to 
a  remarkable  degree,  that  Colonel 
Napier  is  no  ordinary  antagonist. 
There  is  a  clearness,  a  strong^,  a 
comprehensiveness,  in  his  writingps, 
that  not  only  must  command  our 
admiration  of  his  talents  as  a  mili- 
tary historian,  but  gain  our  favour 
over  to  the  view  he  entertains  and 
enforces,  and  our  reliance  upon  his 
statements,  when  opposed  or  con- 
tradicted by  a  feebler  hand.  We 
accordingly  consider  that  it  will 
hereafter  be  the  best  thing  Lord 
Beresford  can  do,  in  reference  to 
this  controversy,  to  let  it  drop  en* 
tirely  on  his  side ;  for  he  may  de- 
pend upon  it,  that  he  will  have  the 
worst  fall  at  the  end.  We  cannot, 
however,  do  more  than  recommend 
to  those  who  are  curious  or  skilled 
in  military  tactics,  or  to  those  to 
whom  controversy  and  hard  hitting 
are  agreeable,  the  present  and  the 
foregoing   statements,     regarding 


Notices, 


Hi 


Lord  Beresford's  military  skill  and 
behaviour  at  Campo  Mayor  and 
Albuera. 

AitT.  XIV. — Report  of  the  Commit' 
tee  of  the  Donoaster  Agnoulttt- 
ral  Association  on  the  Turnip 
Ffy,  and  the  means  of  its  Pre- 
vention, 

Tub  inquiry  on  the  turnip  fly  was 
undertaken  in  1830,  and  this  pam- 
phlet contains  the  returns  received 
from  102  correspondents,  in  differ- 
ent parts  of  England  and  Scotland, 
A  number  of  points  were  put  to 
those  correspondents,  on  which  an- 
swers were  requested  to  be  made, 
and  these  answers  have  been  em- 
bodied in  an  analysis,  appended  [to 
the  report,  forming  a  useful  and 
experimental  body  of  informatidn. 
The  ravages  of  this  fly  are  lament- 
able.   It  is  one  of  the  most  formid- 
able enemies  that  can  attack  a  crop. 
As  soon  as  the  plant  appears  above 
ground,  in   its  first  and   weakest 
state  of  growth,  the  insect  fastens 
on  it.  .  A  few  wounds  is  then  too 
often  fatal  to  the  tender  vegetable. 
This  insect,  it  would  appear,  has 
never  been  subjected  to  the  eye  of 
,the  entomologist.     The  manner  of 
its  generation,   its  earlier  habits, 
and  infant  growth,  have  not  been 
ascertained;    and   this  leaves  the 
correctives  of  the  farmer  to  theory 
and  imagination. 

The  results  of  the  investigation 
set  on  foot  on  this  occasion  by  the 
Doncaster  Agricultural  Association, 
whose  exertions  have  not  only  been 
praiseworthy  hitherto,  but  are,  as 
we  are  happy  to  hear,  continuing 
to  be  conducted  with  spirit  and 
judgment,  have  been  several  highly 
important  practical  points  of  in- 
formation. The  following  are  a 
few  of  the  directions  drawn  from 
the  fads. and  opinions  transmitted 
to  the  Committee  :— 

M  -The  most  effectual  way  by  which 
to  insure  the  speedy  growth  of  the 
turnip  plant,  is  to  have  the  land  in 


the  best  possible  state  of  cultiva- 
tion ;  that  scuffling  and  ploughing 
the  land  before  winter,  and  clear- 
ing the  hedge-bottoms,  and  any 
other  place  likely  to  harbour  tlw 
insect,  should  be  systematically  ob- 
served ;  that  the  fallow  should  be 
completed  as  early  as  possible,  to 
give  an  opportunity  to  sow  at  a  fa« 
vourable  season ;  that  the  system  of 
ridging,  with  manure  under  the 
rows,  and  drilling  on  the  ridge,  be 
adopted ;  that  this  ridging  be  when 
the  land  is  not  in  too  dry  a  state ; 
that  the  seed  be  not  deposited  in 
the  manure,  but  the  manure  be 
thinly  covered  with  soil,  and  the 
seed  drilled  in  this  soil;  that  a  very 
liberal  allowance  of  seed  be  given, 
three  or  four  pounds  per  acre  for 
drill,  six  or  seven  for  broadcast, 
this  seed  being  of  one  year's  growth; 
that  as  soon  as  the  plant  appears 
above  ground,  it  be  dusted  with 
quick  lime,  and  this  repeated  as 
often  as  rain  or  wind  beats  it  off, 
and  the  fly  re-appears ;  and  that  in 
places  which  suit,  and  in  seasons 
particularly  dry,  watering  by  a  ma- 
chine be  resorted  to." 

Under  these  precautions,  the 
Committee  confidently  trust  that 
the  loss  of  crop  from  the  turnip  fly 
may  be,  in  most  cases,  prevented. 
We  recommend  the  pamphlet  to 
the  attention  of  practical  men. 

Art.  XV.—  TheBook  of  Penalties, 
or  Summary  of  the  Pecuniary 
Penalties^  inflicted  by  the  Laws 
of  England^  on  the  Commercial^ 
Manufacturing,  Trading,  and 
Professional  Classes,  in  their  se- 
veral occupations  and  businesses. 

These  penalties,  impo«ed  for  the 
protection  of  the  public  revenue, 
for  the  purpoaes  of  police,  and 
for  the  security  of  individual 
transactions,  as  we  are  told  in  the 
preface,  are  extremely  numerous, 
and  not  unfirequently  ruinous  in 
operation.  .  Hfirdly  a  pursuit  of 


144 


Nai$€9$. 


dvil  life^  whether  of  {deasure  or 
profit,  can  be  entered  upon,  with- 
out beooming  liable  to  penal  vi- 
sitation. We  cannot  travel  on  the 
highway,  swing  a  gate,  read  a 
newspaper,  buy  a  pair  of  stock*- 
ings,  receive  or  pay  money,  take 
medicine,  nor  even  engage  in  re- 
ligious worship,  without  beingob- 
noxious  to  some  overt  or  latent 
enactment  scattered  through  the 
wide  waste  of  the  '  Statutes  at 
Large*, 

In  estimating  the  intricacies 
of  the  ramifications  of  society, 
the  extent  of  our  activities  as  a 
people,  and  our  peculiar  genius, 
the  nature  and  multitude  of  these 
salutary  prohibitions  afford  as 
distinct  a  key,  as  any  one  kind 
of  information  can  do.  From 
what  is  anxiously  forbidden,  we 
may  gather  what  is  most  fondly 
chosen ;  from  what  we  can  bear, 
our  strength  can  as  well  be  cal- 
culated, as  from  what  we  can  do. 
The  volume  before  us  brings  into 
a  small  compass  this  negative  and 
puBsive  sort  of  evidence.  It  is, 
oesides,  a  most  curious  compen- 
dium 0^  legislation,  such  as  no 
fismcy  could  have  planned,  and  no 
inteUigence  can  reconcile.  Every 
species  of  produce  and  industry 
is  most  carefiilly  protected  and 
fostered  by  enactments  in  one 
shape  or  another,  whilst  it  may 
be  averred,  that  in  another,  the 
same  things  are  the  objects  of 
suspicion  and  extinction.  So  that 
it  nas  long  been  a  difficult  task 
for  any  man  to  tell  what  he  may 
or  may  not  safely  do. 

This  work  is  the  first  attempt 
that  has  been  made,  to  simpUfy 
and  elucidate  such  a  heterogene- 
ous mass.  The  whole  of  the  pe- 
cuniary penalties  are  lucidly  ar- 
rangea  aind  comprised  in  it :  whe- 
ther they  pgint  to  the  pursuits 
of  importers,  merchants,  ship- 


owners, bankers,  manufooturersy 
shop-keepers,  victuallers,  trades^ 
men,  or  housekeepers.  What  the 
oflfence  is,  and  what  the  penalty 
incurred,  are  pointed  out :  WhiLst 
the  section  and  act  of  parliament 
under  which  each  penalty  is  in- 
flicted, are  carefiiHy  specified. 
This  was  clearly  a  work  of  diffi- 
culty, particularly  as  only  the 
penalties  that  are  enforced  are 
attended  to,  whilst  the  repealed 
ones  are  left  out.  This  Manual 
in  a  cheap  and  convenient  form, 
enables  individuals  to  learn,  the 
snares  with  which  they  are  en- 
vironed. It  does  more,  it  enables 
any  one  after  a  slight  inspection, 
to  perceive  the  practical  absur- 
dity of  much  disjointed  theoretic 
wisdom,  and  should,  therefore, 
lead  to  great  amendments. 

At  the  end  of  the  work,  is  sub- 
joined a  Digest  of  the  Local  Acts 
of  the  Metropolis,  with  an  Ap- 
pendix of  the  Customs  and  Pri- 
vileges of  the  City  of  London  : 
which  renders  it  much  more  va- 
luable to  those  immediately  con- 
cerned, and,  indeed,  to  every  per- 
son in  the  empire;  for  who  is 
there  of  the  whole  of  our  popu- 
lation that  stands  unconne<H^ 
with  the  metropolis  ?  The  short- 
est glance  at  the  heads  of  any 
one  of  the  different  chapters  into 
which  the  volume  is  divided,  will 
satisfy  any  one  that  it  contains, 
not  merely  an  immense  deal  of 
necessary  information,  but  in- 
formation that  he  himself  is 
deeply  concerned  in.  We  there- 
fore, recommend  it  to  every  one, 
especially  in  active  life ;  or  rather, 
a  sight  of  the  book  itsdf,  will  in- 
stantly be  the  best  recommenda- 
tion. Hereafter,  at  any  rate,  it 
will  be  a  man^s  own  finilt  in  a 
great  measure,  if  he  incur  any, 
pecuniary  penalty. 


THE 


MONTHLY    REVIEW 


OCTOBER,    1834. 


Art.  I, —  The  Angler  in  Wales,  or  Days  and  Nights  of  Spartsmen*  By 
Thomas  Medwin,  Esq.     London:  Richard  Bentley.     1834. 

We  love  to  think  of  the  Angler*s  '^ilent  trade.'  How  oft  ere  we 
knew  the  many  turns  of  this  tortuous  world,  have  we  wandered  far 
and  away,  by  some  classic  stream^  following  our  favourite  pastime ! 
It  was  in  Scotia's  sheltered  vales,  and  among  her  rugged  or  heathery 
hills  we  learned  to  wile  the  wary  trout  from  his  hiding-place^  or 
take  him  at  bis  greedy  seasons.  There  are  pleasures  for  anglers, 
which  none  but  anglers  know.  But  they  have  been  familiar  to  us 
from  our  tiny  boyhood.  So  much  so,  indeed,  that  we  made  the 
solitude  and  the  waste  of  the  uplands,  near  our  father's  home,  all 
our  own.  It  was  not  the  sport  alone  which  won  our  love.  The 
thousand  silent  surrounding  monitors,  or  symbols  of  purity  and 
peace,  that  dwelt  within  the  region  of  our  pastime,  were  far  better 
than  all  that  rod  or  pannier  could  present.  For  he  who  understands 
this  pensive  employment  knows,  that,  like  woman's  gentle  occupa- 
tions, it  usurps  not  too  much  of  the  subtle  and  soaring  spirit,  but 
that  the  hand  may  be  at  once  expert,  and  the  thought  excursive. 

We  say  it  was  among  the  loveliest  and  the  remotest  scenes  of 
Scotland  we  learned,  or  rather  knew,  the  angler's  art  in  our  boyhood. 
*  We  '  paidled  in  the  burn  when  simmer  days  were  fine,'  without 
society  and  without  companions.  We,  on  the  green  pastures  by  the 
quiet  wators,  ever  and  anon  basked  in  the  sun,  eat  our  crust  of 
bread  and  cheese,  and  recruited  ourselves  for  renewed  achievements 
with  rod  and  line.  But  no  learned  book  had  we  ever  read  to  teach 
us  the  ^  gentle  art.*  We  know  not  how  we  came  by  it,  but  still,  as 
if  courting  our  hand,  there  was  no  lack  of  prey.  Forgive  us  then, 
ye  erudite  sportsmen,  if  we  are  somewhat  incredulous  respecting 
your  sage  maxims,  and  philosophic  rules.  It'wfts  with  spliced  ash 
or  hazel  rod  we  worked ;  our  flies  were  like  nothing  above  or  be- 
neath the  earth ;  our  hpoks  had  more  than  bnce  been  bended  pins, 

VOL.  111.    (1934.)    NO.  II.  M 


146  ^  The  Angler  in  Wales, 

and  yet  the  pannier^  of  our  own  rough  workmanship  too,  became 
heavy  with  spoU.  Alas !  those  days  are  gone ;  we  are  now  middle- 
aged,  grey  hairs  are  to  be  seen  among  our  locks,  and  wrinkles  im- 
planted upon  our  forehead ;  yet  we  venture  to  wager  a  Scotchman's 
winter  dinner  of  beef  and  greens,  fit  for  half  a  dozen  hungry  curlers, 
with  punch  to  boot,  or  some  summer  daintier  food,  that  even  at 
this  day  we'll  astonish  ^  The  Author  of  the  Conversations  of  Lord 
Byron,'  Mr.  Thomas  M edwin,  and  beat  him  hollow  at  the  ^  gentle 
art,'  though  he  be  the  writer  of  these  two  goodly  octavos. 

The  volumes  are  very  pleasant  reading,  and  just  the  sort  of  thing 
that  becomes  an  dngler  to  write ;  we  mean  in  respect  of  that  off- 
hand matter  that  is  every  now  and  then  brought  m  just  as  &ncy 
chooses.  It  is  according  to  the  same  sort  of  propensity,  that  aU 
true  men  of  the  rod  and  line  make  themselves  such  lightsome  and 
tasteful  companions :  yea,  and  instructive.  For  we  admit  that  the 
author  is  a  water  sportsman  of  considerable  experience.  But  still, 
when  we  hear  him  so  profuse  with  observations  upon  the  colour  and 
shape  of  flies,  and  so  frequently  mentioning  the  action  of  the  reel, 
we  must  declare,  that,  according  to  our  practical  knowledge,  he  iar 
not  a  first-rate  angler.  He  talks  not  seldom  of  spinning  the  min- 
now. If  we  had  an  answer  to  one  question,  his  status  could  be 
soon  accurately  fixed  by  us,  at* least  in  relation  to  our  ownselves. 
The  question  is, — Does  he  patronise  a  swivel?  If  the  answer  be  in 
the  affirmative,  then  we  tell. him  be  has  no  chance  with  us,  in  that 
branch  oi  the  art ;  and  that  with  his  swivel,  his  reel,  and  his  finely 
busked  and  described  flies,  we  can  only  set  him  down  as  a  good 
Cockney  fisherman  by  burn  and  river,  and  never  able  to  compete  with 
us,  who  belong  to  the  same  class  as  did  the  dextrous  urchin  of  the 
Red  Gauntlet,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Nith.  But  we  must  proceed  to 
point  out  whatever  has  most  particularly  claimed  our  notice  in  these 
volumes,  in  which  there  is  much  more  to  praise  than  blame.  Nor 
shall  we,  after  having  placed  the  author  in  his  proper  sphere  as  an 
angler,  be,  in  what  follows,  inclined  to  say  much  more  on  that  head ; 
and  the  rather,  because  we  have  just  this  moment  discovered  that 
he  recommends  spliced  ash-wood  rods  before  every  other  sort  or 
fashion.  This  is  speaking  Uke  a  man  of  practical  knowledge,  and 
raises  him  a  step  higher,  in  our  estimation,  among  anglers.  But, 
before  we  give  any  thing  of  the  author's  about  the  piscatory  tribes, 
here  is  something  of  the  canine.  The  scene  is  tax  firom  Wales>  for 
indeed,  he  is  almost  as  often  on  the  Continent  or  in  India  as  at 
home. 

**  Byron  had  a  Cerberus,  in  the  shape  of  an  English  buli-dog.  As  I 
said  before,  his  name  was  Tiger.  He  was  fastened  at  the  top  ot  the  co- 
lossal flight  of  steps  in  the  Casa  Lanfranchi,  with  a  rope  long  enough  to 
enable  him  to  guard  the  passage  to  what  some,  who  attribute  to  Lord 
Byron  a  cloven  foot,  might  call  his  inferno.  The  animal  was  an  intelli- 
gent one;  and  though  little  inclined  to  make  new  acquaintance,  soon 
learned  to    distinguish  his    master's    habitues,  and   allowed  him  the 


7%e  Angler  m  Wales.  147 

^ntr4e^  oontentmg  himself  with  growling  at  one  and  wagging  his  tail 
at  anotlier — ^a  compliment,  however,  seldom  paid  to  any.  but  ShoUey. 
•Byron  wag  much  attached  to  this  fine  creature,  and  frequently  had  him 
loosed  when  playing  at  billiards,  his  favourite  game.  An  anecdote  is 
told,  very  characteristic  of  the  poet,  in  which  my  gruff  friend  Tiger 
played  a  distinguished  part 

*'*•  It  has  become  an  historical  fact,  and  one  of  almost  as  great  import- 
ance as   the    meeting  of  the  Triumvirate  to   decide  the  fate  of  the 
world,  that  *  Childe  Harold'  and  the  *  Bard  of  Memory'  met  at  Pisa. 
Rogers,  in  one  of  his  sentimental  notes,  had  announced  the  probability 
of  this  interesting  event,  and  Byron  heard  at  length  that  he  had  decendu 
at  the  '  Tre  Donzelle.'  Knowing  that  Rogers  was  momentarily  to  appear, 
Byron  gave  orders  to  Tita  to  introduce  the  monkey  and  bull-dog.  1  think 
I  see  Byron  in  his  jacket,  stumping  round  the  billiard-room  with  the 
heavy  sound  that,  once  heard,  could  not  be  mistaken,  and,  after  making 
some  successful  hit,  bursting  out  into  one  of  his  usual  gibes  or  flashes 
of  merriment,  which  success  always  inspired,  or  dividing  his  caresses 
between  Jacko  and  Tiger.     There   existed  no  slight  jealousy  between 
the  two  favourites,  which  showed  itself  on  the  part  of  the  latter  by  a 
short,  loud,  angry  bark  at  his  rival,  whilst  the  ape  sat  perched  out  of 
reach,  grinning  and  chattering  defiance,  to  the  no  small  amusement  of 
their  master.    The  coming  of  the  expected  guest  was  now  announced  by 
a  bark  of  deeper  intonation,  which  Byron  made  no  effort  to  repress,  but 
returned  to  the  game,  to  which  he  affected,  with  one  of  his  cynic  grins, 
to  pay  more  than  common  attention.     In  the  mean  time  Tiger  rushed 
furiously  at  the  stranger,  who  backed  to  a  comer  of  the  room,  shiver- 
ing and  breathless  with  terror.     Byron,  without  casting  a  look  towards 
the  poor  bard  at  bay,  contented  himself  with  drawling  out,  at  inter- 
vals,'T — i — ger,  Ti — i — ger,'  but  in  such  an  accent  as  rather  to  en- 
courage than  check  the  baiter,   who   continued .  a  furious  concert    of 
menaces  at  the  *  Death  in    life,  or   departed   Mr.  Rogers.'    Byron  at 
length  pretended  to  discover  the  cause  of  the  affray;  to  kick  Tiger 
aside,  and  press  his  *  dear  h'iend  ^  in  his  arms,  was  only  the  affair  of 
an  instant.    It  was  a  fine  piece  of  acting :  the  mock  fervour  of  his  pro- 
fession of  regard, .  hl»  upbraidings  and  threats  to  Tiger — nothing,  in 
stage  langn^age,  could  surpass  the  situation." — pp.  24-^26,  vol.  i. 

This  was  a  joke  too  practical  for  our  liking :  but  we  come  to  the 
eomparative  merits  of  trolling  and  fly-fishing.  The  last  certainly  is 
by  much  the  finer  art,  but  the  other  the  more  deadly,  if  the  weight, 
not  the  number  of  fish  be  counted.  The  subject  is  in  this  instance 
treated  of  in  the  shape  of  dialogue. 

"  •  I  should  be  sorry  to  become  a  convert  to  your  doctrines.  So  you 
have  discarded  the  fly  altogether  ?' 

*«'  I  used  it  at  first;  but  my  objections  to  it  were  taken  from  observing 
that,  .amongst  the  most  expert  fly-fishers,  no  one  was  perfectly  satisfied. 
The  day  was  too  fine^  or  too  foul ;  the  water  too  clear,  or  too  muddy ;  the  * 
wind  too  viol^it,  or  too  low,  or  in  the  wrong  quarter;  and  if  none  of 
these  vexations  could  be  referred  to,  there  was  a  never-failing  reason 
for  unsucceas : — it  was  not  the  right  fly." 

"'That  reason  is  an  obvious  one,  doubtlhM^  It  is  essential  to  hit  the 
exact  coUjvjr  and  form  of  the  fly.     But  go  on.' 

m2 


148  The  Angler  in  Wales. 

"  *  Essential  as  that  point  may  be,  bow  often  is  it  aceompUahed  ?  A 
trolling  bait,  such  as  mine,  will  answer  at  all  seasons,  weathers  and 
places.  The  fiy  can  only  be  thrown  at  particular  spots  of  a  rapid, 
rocky,  wood-fringed  river,  and  these  generally  are  the  rery  ^ots  least 
frequented  by  the  monarchs  of  the  stream.  But  should  you  make  a 
fortunate  cast,  and  find  one  of  them  at  home,  first  he  is  disturbed  by  the 
agitation  of  the  surface ;  next,  you  are  open  to  his  observation — a  eir- 
cumstance  of  itself  sufficient  to  scare  and  banish  every  trout  that  has 
arrived  at  years  of  discretion.  As  to  the  small  trout,  you  may  have  tbeoa 
at  all  times,  for  age  and  eisperience  make  an  extraordinary  difference  hi 
he  habits  of  fish,  as  of  other  animals.' " — pp.  39,  40,  vol.  i. 

We  have  a  word  to  say  about '  the  exact  colour  and  form  of  tb^ 
ily/  on  which  all  dandy  anders  are  so  eloquent.  It  is  this : — ^that 
this  exactness  is  never  found;  neither  is  it  necessary,  by  any  means, 
to  the  extent  which  all  that  are  young  in  the  art  would  lead  one 
to  believe.  We  have  often  found  an  artificial  fly  of  Quite  an  oppo- 
site form  and  colour  to  the  natural  one  on  the  water,  lull  in  a  man* 
ner»  and  at  a  rate,  that  set  at  nought  all  such  rules  as  merely  look 

Sretty  upon  paper ;  and  the  plain  fact  was  and  is  this,  that  a  vast 
eal  more  depends  upon  the  management  of  the  fly  than  upon  ita 
•size,  shape,  or  shade.  In  the  audior's  words,  the  fly  must  ^  drop 
like  the  parachute  of  the  dandelion  I*  And  we  add,  it  must  fiiU 
within  six  inches  of  the  precise  spot  you  wish  it  to  do.  And  what  la 
still  more  essential,  the  angler  must  give  it  a  style  of  movement,  such 
as  upon  the  crisping  curls  of  the  stream,  deceives  and  seduces  the 
object  of  his  sport.  '  A  line  of  the  right  colour '  is  also  insisted  on, 
to  suit  that  of  the  water.  Alas  !  when  bare-legged,  and  never  pos- 
sessed of  more  than  the  hairs  pulled  from  a  colt's  tail,  which  were 
as  often  black  as  white,  what  should  we  have  thought,  if  dyed  gut 
had  been  idone  efficient !  All  we  could  conmiand  was  a  rod  of  our 
own  making,  a  cast-line  of  a  length  to  pu^&zle  the  hand  and  head  of 
any  ordinary  fiiU-grown  man,  thick  and  heavy  near  the  top  of  the 
rod,  but  gradually  lessening  to  the  strength  of  two  perfect  hairs. 
Then,  in  right  or  left  hand,  it  mattered  little  whidi,  we  played 
arcAind  us  with  all  the  ease  and  graorfulness  of  a  niaster  of  fencing. 
And  thus  we  filled  our  basket.  In  truth  it  is,  as  Mr.  Medwin  in 
part  knows  and  tells,  that  no  rules  or  apparatus,  however  perfectly 
prepared,  can  at  all  equal  one  day's  observance  of  a  practised  hand. 
We  are  presented  with  a  discourse  concerning  the  degree  of 
acuteness  in  the  senses  of  the  piscatory  tribes.  Sir  Humphrey 
Davy  had  a  hard-hearted  theory  on  the  question,  and  received  from 
Christopher,  in  Blackwood's  Magazine,  who  is  one  of  the  best 
anglers  in  the  world,  a  suitable  lecture.  The  great  chemist  says,  a 
'pricked  fish  will  not  rise  again,  though  he  gives  an  instance  of  a 
pike's  voracity,  by  one  being  produced  at  table,  with  his  hooks  and 
tackle  within  it,  which  he  had  lost  some  short  time  before. 

"  He  mentions  no  such  fact  regarding  trout,  but  I  can  tell  you  one  that 
happened  to  me  the  other  day  at  Postlip,  near  Winchcomb,  in  Glouces- 
tershire, where  I  was  indebted  for  a  good  day's  sport  to  their  liberal  and 


The  Angler  in  Wulei.  149 

tospitable  pn>prietDr,  Mr.  Tregent.  I  had  been  tdd  there  were  eome 
good  fi#h  in  the  mill*dani,  and  thither  this  gentleman  and  myself  pro- 
ceeded. Scarcely  a  raimite  elapsed  ere  my  companion  (we  both  used  the 
same  bait)  hooked  a  fish^  whose  strength  proved,  after  some  Sniggling, 
too  much  for  his  tackle.  The  gut  bi*oke  some  inches  above  the  hook, 
and  the  fish  was  lost.  In  the  same  spot,  and  within  a  lew  minutes,  not 
more  than  fire,  I  found  myself  engaged  violently,  and  succeeded  in 
landing  the  trout.  The  identical  hook  and  tackle  lost  by  my  com- 
panion, and  which  he  had  just  time  to  supply,  was  sticking  in  the  mouth 
of  the  animal.     His  weight  exceeded  three  pounds." — pp.  60,  61,  vol.  i. 

To  thia  we  append,  that  trouts  have  broke  away  from  us,  and  in 
the  course  of  the  same  day  have  again  been  caaght,  having  the  lost 
fly  still  sticking  in  their  lips.  But  in  all  such  cases^  the  hold  was 
so  aligfat,  as  evidently  not  to  reach  the  seat  of  much  vitality.  Yet, 
these  instances  are  estremely  rare,  nor  have  we  any  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  a  pricked  fish  will  soon  forget  the  narrow  escape  he  made. 
One  thing  is  clear^  if  the  hook  fixes  in  the  tongue  he  soon  dies, 
and  we  should  sui^ose  the  pain  is  exquisite. 

To  leave  off  for  a  little  this  topic;  Mr.  Medwin,  we  shoald  sup- 
pose^  is,  on  religious  points^  a  latitndinarian^  and  not  a  little  fond  of 
showing  that  he  is  so.  This  sceptical  sobriety  and  coldness  suit 
badly  oar  conception  of  a  true  angler^  pensive  and  pious>  as  such 
^f>rer  stand  well  defined  m  oar  mind's  eye. 

"All  religions  have  their  mummeries,  and  the  ignorant  and  unen- 
lightened, ndio  can  form  no  metaphysical  notion  of  the  attributes  of  a 
God,  must  have  some  type  of  his  goodness  or  power,  by  which  to  be 
taught  to  acknowledge  Him.  The  true  Brahman  is  like  the  philoso- 
phers of  old  :  but,  not  to  enter  into  this  subject,  the  mythological  wor- 
ship of  Greece  and  Rome,  that  of  the  saints  and  relics  of  the  Romish 
Church,  and  the  adoration  of  the  Virgin,  are  liot  more  ridiculous  than 
this  baptism  and  regeneration  of  the  poor  Hindus,  which  they  perform 
in  honour  of  one  of  their  Nine  Incarnations." — p.  72,  vol.i. 

So,  all  religions  have  their  mummeries.  How  very  liberal !  how 
wonderful  the  extent  of  our  knowledge !  There  are  people  too  that 
can  form  no  metaphysical  notion  of  die  attributes  of  a  God.  Can 
you,  late  of  the  First  Foot  Guards,  tell  us  what  you  mean  by  the 
Infinitude  of  Deity,  or  his  Spirituality  ?  If  we  mistake  not,  your 
amative  descriptions  will  come  no  nearer  the  truth  than  the  pea^ 
sant's  thoughts  carry  him,  whilst  the  boasted  strength  of  your 
metaphysics  chills  your  heart  many  degrees  below  the  countryman's 
warmth. 

Here's  a  good  anecdote  of  little  Moc»*e : 

*' A  friend  and  himself  made  an  excursion  to  Greenwich  to  eat  white 
bait,  which  I  am  told  is  as  fine  as  the  Mango  fish  at  Calcutta,  or  Pom^ 
fret  at  Madras.  This  friend  was  no  other  than  Lord  Strangford,  who, 
determined  to  hoax  his  brother  bard  {quelle  malice  !  as  you  say),  had 
bought,  before  he  left  town,  a  small-toothed  horn  comb,  which,  when  Ihe 
soup  was  served,  he  dropped  secretly  into  the  tureen.  Moore  found  the 
contents  delicious,  and  was  over  persuaded  by  his  titled   hon  vivani 


150  .  The  Angler  in  Wales. 

(though,  according  to  the  immortal  Brummel,  it  is  highly  incorrect)  to 
be  helped  a  second  time  to  soup ;  when,  what  should  be  ladled  out  into 
the  plate  but  the  damning  evidence  of  the  cook's  cleanliness  ?  Tommy'n 
fertile  imagination  peopled  it  with  a  hundred — h^rs.^  The  story  goes  to 
say,  he  ate  no  white  bait  that  day." — ^p.  99$  100,  vol.  i. 

The  next  story  is  as  good. 

"  My  friend,  Sir  Ulysses  O'Shaunessey,  was  walking  with  his  lady  in 
the  environs  of  the  lake  of  Killarney,  where  he  was  going  out  salmon- 
fishing,  and  met  an  old  beldam,  named  Mrs.  Malwadding. — ^"The  top  of 
the  morning  to  you.' — ^*The  same  to  you,  Mrs.  Malwadding.' — ^'I 
dramed  a  drame,  your  honour.' — '  What  was  your  dream  about,  Mrs. 
Malwadding  ? ' — ^  Och  I  I  dramed  that  your  honour's  honour  would  giwe 
me  a  pound  of  lay,  and  your  ladyship's  ladyship  a  shiner.' — ^"Well,  but 
dreams  always  are  verified  by  their  contraries.' — '  Och,  then,  it  is  your 
honour's  honour  that's  to  give  me  the  shiner,  and  your  ladyship's  lady- 
ship that's  to  give  me  the  taf.* — Need  I  tell  you  that  Mrs.  Malwadding's 
wit  ensured  her  both  the  tea  and  the  money  ?  " — p.  117- 

These  volumes  abound  with  marvellous  stories  of  escapes  by 
^  flood  and  field.'  After  a  well-told  and  affecting  account  of.  the 
deaths  of  two  officers  in  India,  the  author  gives  the  foUowing  re- 
markable iUustrations  of  coincidences  in  human  history : — 

"  It  is  only  those  who  do  not  keep  a  register  of  their  lives,  who  dis- 
believe, that  the  principal  occurrences  which  influence  their  happiness  or 
misery  take  place  at  the  recurrence  of  stated  and  particular  periods. 
Napoleon  was  a  striking  instance  of  this  startling  truth.  All  his  great 
battles  were  fought  on  the  same  day,  and,  extraordinary  indeed  must 
have  been  his  power,  and  little  less  than  that  of  a  God  here,  if  he  coidd, 
at  his  own  arbitrium,  so  regulate  his  times  as  to  overturn  empires, 
and  make  himself  master  of  half  the  civilized  world,  by  throwing  the 
same  number  on  a  die.  It  was  from  similar  remarks  that  the  ancients 
drew  horoscopes,  and  had  tables  for  calculating  lucky  and  unlucky  days 
— those  *cret&aut  carbone  notandse.'  Hence  the  descendants  of  the 
ancient  Persians,  the  Parsees,  consult  their  chronological  records  before 
they  embark  in  any  undertaking;  and  it  is  from  a  recollection  that  on 
a  Friday  the  seat  of  their  empire  was  wasted  with  fire  and  sword  by 
the  followers  of  the  Prophet,  that  those  great  merchants  never  allow 
any  of  their  ships  to  s^il  from  Bombay  on  that  day.  Not  that  that  pre- 
judice (if  you  choose  to  call  it  one)  is  confined  to  their  nation,  for  it^is 
common  to  many  other  people,  ourselves  among  the  number ;  and  a 
Welsh  bard  has  this  passage,  quoted  to  me  by  Humphrey : — 

**  On  Friday  I  saw  great  anxiety,  Urien  raged." 

**  It  was  from  some  such  similar  remembrance  that  Lord  Byron  would 
never  commence  any  work,  nor  even  be  introduced  to  one  whose  acquain- 
tance he  wished  to  cultivate,  on  that  day  in  the  week.  And,  speaking  of 
him,  he  is  almost  as  remarkable  a  corroboration  as  Buonaparte  of  my 
position,  seeing  that  the  three  great  and  remarkable  events  on  which  his 
destiny  hinged,  the  fatal  wedding  of  Miss  Chaworth,  his  own  unfortu- 
nate marriage,  and  his  still  more  lamented  death,  took  place  when  he 
was  sixteen,  twenty-six,  and  thirty-six,  or  at  intervening  periods  of  ten 
years,  called  by  the  Romans  two  lustres,  a  term  probably  not  derived 


The  Angler  in  Wales.  151 

fa>]ii  such  periods  being  phyBical  cHmacteiics,  but  from  an  observation 
that  they,  as  from  a  mirror,  reflected  th^  lights  of  other  times;  or,  as 
(though  with  a  different  application)  has  been  beautifully  said,  cast  the 
abfuiows  of  former  years  before  them.  You  have  ahio  told  me  that  he  said 
he  should  most  likely  die  in  Greece,  yet  with  some  influence  foreign  to, 
and  perfectly  independent  of  his  own  will,  he  was  urged  by  fate  to  that 
very  countiy  to  confirm  his  own  prediction,  his  own  predestination,  and, 
what  is  still  more  singular,  to  the  very  spot  where  in  the  same  month, 
if  not  on  the  same  day,  he  had  been  attacked  by  a  similar  fever,  and 
barely  escaped  falling  a  victim  to  its  malignity." — pp.  57»  69.  vol.ii.   ' 

The  description  of  an  otter  hunt  is  to  our  likings  and  such  as  is 
familiar  to  us ;  but  we  have  only  space  for  the  issue. 

*' The  contest  promised  to  be  a  severe  one.  Vixen  was,  as  I  said,  in 
advance,  and  on  her  the  brunt  of  the  onslaught,  the  odds  much  against 
her,  fell,  for  she  was  forced  to  swim  in  order  to  get  at  the  foe.  She  was . 
soon  in  upon  him,  and  pinned  him  by  the  ikeck,  a  favourite  point  of  at- 
tack of  her's,  as  I  afterwards  heard  from  her  master;  but  the  powerful 
animal  soon  shook  her  off,  and  seized  her  in  turn  in  his  terrific  jaws. 

^  No  animal  is  so  hard-biting  as  an  otter.  Their  mouths  are  armed  with 
teeth  as  sharp  as  needles,  and  wherever  they  make  good  their  hold,  the 
breadth  of  their  nostrils  enables  them  to  retain  it  like  bull-dogs.  None 
but  a  very  varmint  dog,  to  borrow  a  phrase  of  Charter's  Amazon,  when . 
severely  punished,  will  face  one  of  these  water-weazels  a  second  time. 
Not  so  Vixen,  who,  extricating  himself  from  his  gripe,  returned  with 
fresh  courage  to  the  conflict. 

**  Owing  to  the  projection  of  the  bank,  and  the  thick  bush  overhang- 
ing the  water,  Rr-- —  could  not  come  to  the  assistance  of  his  little  fa- 
vorite, and  stood,  not  without  some  misgivings  as  to  the  result,  within  a 
few  paces  of  the  combatants.  The  battle  was  a  terrific  one,  and  long 
doubtful;  but  atjlength  the  dourghhie  seized  Vixen  by  the  throat,  and 
made  his  fangs  meet  in  her  jugular  vein.  The  water  was  dyed  with 
blood.  The  bitch  gave  a  short  low  howl  of  agony,  and  in  a  few  moments 
we  saw  her  extended  as  if  dying,  on  her  back,  and  borne  down  with  the 
current. 

**Rf-; — ,  forgetting  the  otter  in  his  anxiety  for  his  little  pet,  rushed  into 
the  water  up  to  his  middle,  and  succeeded  in  reaching  and  bearing  her 
out,  ^hen  be  laid  her  on  the  grass  and  endeavoured  to  stanch  the  blood 
with  his  handkerchief. 

''  In  the  mean  while  the  dourghie  dashed  from  behind  the  bank  where 
he  had  effected  so  much  mischief,  evidently  the  worse  for  the  affray,  and, 
cloeely  followed  by  Viper,  recrossed  the  stream,  and  succeeded,  though 
with  difficulty,  in  gaining  a  stronger  position  than  ever  among  the 

roots  of  somie  hawthorns,  whence  R did  not  attempt  to  dislodge 

him,  for  he  was  so  much  affected  at  the  piteous  state  of  Vixen,  that, 
taking  her  up  in  his  arms,  he  called  off  Viper,  and  we  made  the  best  of 
our  way  back  to  Tregaron. 

**  The  sufferings  of  the  little  creature  were  great,  but  she  was  too  game 
to  show  them  by  whining,  or  any  outward  expression  of  pain.  The 
blood  kept  fast  oozing  from  her  neck  though  tightly  bandaged. 

"On  our  arrival  at  the  inn,  having  washed  it  with  brandy,  we  made  a 
bed  for  the  patient  in  a  comer  of  the  room,  and  she  soon  fell  into  a  deep 
sleep. 


152  The  Angler  in  Whiles. 

"The  affection  of  the  two  terriers  for  each  other  was  such  as  few. to- 
man heings  show,  and  might  have  heen  a  lesson  for  humanity.  Vi|»r 
laid  down  by  Vixen,  and  by  low  whines  told  the  excess  of  his  grief.  aAd 
endeavoured  to  lick  the  mortal  wound.  He  could  not  be  induced  to  take 
any  food,  or  to  quit  her  side.^^-^pp.  IGS-'— 164.  vol.  il, 

-  We  are  never  weary  of  hearing  of  Byron,  and  the  second  of  these 
volumes  contains  many  notices  of  him,  which  must  be  equally  ac- 
ceptable to  our  readers. 

'•  The  Byron  of  Genera,  and  the  Byron  of  England  and  Italy,  were 
widely  different  persons.  Certain  family  affairs,  and  the  dilapidated 
state  of  his  finances,  caused  by  a  long  course  of  extravagance,  had  pro- 
duced in  him  a  despondency  sometimes  bordering  on  madness.  But  he 
was  suffering  from  wounded  pride  rather  than  hurt  affections;  from  a 
morbid  sensitiveness  rather  than  a  healthful  sensibility.  He  had  more 
of  the  misanthrophy  of  the^  snarling  Apemanthus,  than  the  injured 
Timon — ^the  difference  between  a  hatred  of  his  species  and  their  vices. 
In  fact  he  possessed  nothing  of  that  within— 

"Qttod  se  sibi  reddit  amicuniy 
Quod  pnr^  tranqoillat.*' 

'  *'  Never  were  there  such  different  accounts  as  are  given  of  his  person. 
I  have  heard  from  some,  that,  as  to  his  feet,  one  could  hardly  be  distin- 
g'nishcd  from  the  other  in  make  or  shape. 

^•Much  was  done  by  Sheldrake  towards  straightening  them.  An 
Aberdeen  schoolfellow  of  his  told  me,  that  when  he  was  young  they 
were  both  turned  inwards.  A  Harrow  woman  said,  that  one  leg  was 
shorter  than  the  other,  and  that  he  used  to  wear  a  patten  on  it  at  school. 
There  seems  to  be  as  great  uncertainty  on  this  subject  as  on  his  charac- 
ter, which  his  biographers  have  found  irreconcileablc ;  in  fact,  he  was  a 
riddle,  as  difficult  to  solve  as  the  Spliynx's." 

"He  had  the  character,  when  he  left  England,  of  being  remarkably 
handsome;  his  complexion  ruddy;  his  hair  dark  brown,  and  glossy,  and 
full  of  curls  as  the  Antinous's,  or  Hyperion's ;  his  forehead  expansive ; 
his  eyes  possessing  wonderful  fire  and  expression. 

"If  so,  he  must  have  much  altered,  marvellously.  The  greatest 
change,  however,  took  place  in  him  in  a  few  months  at  Venice,  where 
I  saw  him  in  1618.  I  should  hardly  have  known  him.  The  life  he  led 
there  surpassed  Rochester's  or  Faublas's,  and  fitted  him  well  for  the 
Bolgi  of  the '  Inferno,'  into  which  Dante  plunges  those  immerged  in  such 
degrading  pursuits  as  he  then  indulged  in.  As  Chcsterfiekl  said  of 
Bolingbroke,  his  youth  was  there  distracted  by  the  tumult  and  storm  of 
pleasures  in  which  he  most  licentiously  triumphed,  disdaining  all  deco- 
rum. His  fine  imagination  often  heated  and  exhausted  his  body  in  cele- 
brating and  deifying  the  prostitute  of  the  night,  and  his  convivial  joys 
were  pushed  to  ajl  the  extravagance  of  frantic  Bacchanals.  His  passions 
impaired  both  his  understanding  and  his  character." — pp.  1 73 — 175. 
vol.  ii. 

There  is  nothing  very  new  in  this,  however ;  neither  in  the  para- 
graphs we  next  extract.     Byron  is  now  at  Pisa,  in  the  year  1820. 

"  He  had  then  grown  grossly  corpulent, '  vulgaiiy  fat.'  His  palace  on 
the  JLfung'  Amo  was  a  specimen  of  the  Italian  palazzi,  large,  gloomy, 
and  uncomfortable.     Below  was  a  stone  hall  that  struck  with  the  chill  of 


The'Angier  in  Wales.  153 

a  crypt  or  estacomb,  which  its  archeii  roof  reaembled.  A  perpendicular 
flight  of  8ftefp8  led  to  the  primo  piano  or  piano  nohile,  guarded  by  lion. 
A  narrow  corridor,  which  was  his  den,  conducted  to  another  dark  anti- 
caTeni,  to  the  end  of  'which  the  eye  could  hardly  reach.  I  found  him 
in  has  sanctum.  The  walls  of  it  were  stained,  and  against  them  hung  a 
ptctore  of  Ugolino,  in  the  'Torre  dellafiame,'  the  woric  of  one  of  the 
Guicdoli's  sisters,  and  a  miniature  of  Ada.  The  apartment  had  neither 
carpet  nor  mat,  and  an  arm  and  a  few  other  chairs  formed,  with  a  table, 
the  ensembie  of  the  fiimitute ;  unless  some  boxes  and  saddle  -bags  in  one 
comer  might  bear  such  a  denomination.  I  found  him  a  laughing  philo- 
pher-T-e  Don  Juan. 

.  ^  His  talk  at  that  time  was  a  dilution  of  his  letters,  being  full  of  per- 
siflage^  and  abounding  in  humour  that  was  not  wit.  He  always  remcm- 
bered  me  of  Voltaire,  to  whom  he  would  have  thought  it  the  greatest 
of  compliments  to  he  compared,  and  if  there  was  one  writer  more  than 
another  whom  Byron  admired,  perhaps  envied,  (for  he  was  even  jealous 
of  Shakspeare),  it  was  the  author  of  Candide.  Like  Voltaire,  he  never 
argued,  looking  upon  converse  as  a  relaxation,  not  a  toil  of  mind ;  or  he 
might  thank  ibaX  reason  sterilized  the  &ncy,  and  rendered  less  vivid  the 
imaginative  faculties.  Both  possessed  the  same  power  of  changing  at 
will  the  subject  from  the  grave  to  the  gay ;  the  same  mastery  over  the 
sublime,  the  pathetic,  and  the  comic — ^no  I  in  one  particular  he  diifered 
firom  Voltaire,  he  never  scoffed  at  religion.  His  organ  of  veneration  was 
strongly  developed,  and  had  he  returned  to  England,  he  would,  I  have 
little  doubt,  have  died  as  Rochester  died,  and  as  Tommy  Little  lives — ^in 
the  odour  of  sanctity.  He  was  a  disciple  of  Rochefoucaidt  and  La 
Bmyere,  and  had^no  fieuth  in  virtue  for  its  own  sake ;  in  love,  undi vested 
of  the  animal  passion;  or  of  friendship,  if  disinterestedness  and  self- 
sacrifice  form  its  essentials.  Friendship,  he  used  to  say,  according  to  an 
Bnglishman's  definition,  means  eating  and  drinking  together;  and  he 
frequently  quoted  (no  one  more  echoed  himself}  Walpole's  hon  vivant^ 
who,  having  lost  his  friend,  said,  *  I  will  go  to  the  club  and  find  another.'  ** 
—pp.  178— 180,  vol.  ii. 

Of  Byron  in  Greece : — 

*'  Missolunghi  is  just  as  wretched  a  collection  of  houses  and  huts  as  can 
be  well  imagined.  It  stands  in  the  recess  of  a  large  ^and  shallow  bay, 
npcm  a  morass  which  extends  from  the  bay  to  the  foot  of  the  hills,  which 
rise  two  or  three  miles  inland.  The  season  was  very  rainy  and  the  housee 
were  insulated  among  mire  and  water,  the  communication  being  kept  up  by 
stepping-stones  and  attempts  at  trottoirs,  which  resembled  low  walls,  in  pass- 
ing over  which,  the  least  loss  of  equilibrium  would  plunge  the  unibrtnnftte 
peripatetic  in  deep  mud.  A  visit  to  Lord  Byron  was  our  first  step  in 
landing ;  his  abode  was  a  tolerable  house  close  to  the  part  of  the  beach 
most  convenient  for  landing  or  going  afloat.  It  had,  for  the  place,  great 
pretension,  and  was  approached  by  a  gateway  opening  into  a  little  miry 
court-yard,  surrounded  by  a  wall,  with  some  small  offices  on  one  side.  The 
principal  and  only  tolerable-  room  was  approached  by  an  outward  fitair. 
Three  sides  were  furnished  with  sofas  in  the  Turkish  taste.  A  deal  shelf, 
apparently  stuck  against  the  waD,  was  loaded  with  books ;  the  floor  was 
encumbered  with  packing  cases,  some  nailed  down,  some  o|)ened ;  the 
latter  filled  with  books,  as,  I  took  for  granted,  were  the  former,  llound  the 


1 54  The  Angler  in  Wales. 

"^alls  were  appended  to  numerous  nails  and  pegs,  fowling-pieoes  and 
pistols  of  various  descriptions  and  nations ;  sabres  and  yataghans.  The 
corridor  or  antichamber,  or  whatever  else  it  might  be  termed,  swarmed, 
with  Mainotes  and  others,  armed  to  the  teeth.  We  were  ushered  in  by 
Tita,  his  Lordship's  chasseau,  who  reminded  me  of  the  French  Sapems, 
as  he  wore  a  bushy  beard,  with  his  livq^,  which  was  set  off  by  two  silver 
epaulettes.  He  was  an  immense  fellow,  upwards  of  six  feet  in  height, 
and  although  well-prc^ortioned  for  such  a  herculean  figure,  his  frame  was 
too  large  and  heavy  for  his  stature  to  come  within  the  description  of 
elegant  His  page  was  a  young  Greek,  dressed  as  an  Albanian  or  Mainote, 
with  very  handsomely  chased  arms  in  his  girdle,  and  his  nuutre'cT hotel,  or 
factotum,  an  honest  looking,  though  not  remarkably  elastic  Northumbrian, 
named  Fletcher,  who  seemed,  and  doubtless  with  reason,  a  great  favourite 
with  his  master. 

"On  sitting  down  to  dinner,  which,  to  deliver  us  from  plague  and  pesti- 
lence, was  set  on  a  deal  table,  without  the  intervention  of  a  cloth,  he 
laughingly  apologised  for  his  table,  which  from  the  circumstances  wherein 
he  was  then  placed,  was  not,  as  he  said,  trcp  bien  montie ;  but  he  felt 
the  less  annoyed  when  he  reflected  that  persons  of  our  profession  under- 
stood those  things,  and  were  of  course  prepared  for  all  sorts  of  privatacma. 
He  then  bustled  about,  actively  assisted  by  Fletcher,  who  was  but  poorly, 
aided  by  the  Ghreek  menials  in  placing  the  dishes  to  the  best  advantage, 
drawing  corks,  and  all  the  el  ccetera  of  the  table.  To  dispose  the  table 
was  rendered  a  service  of  some  difficulty  by  its  compendiousness.  On 
opening  a  bottle  of  wine,  and  inspecting  its  contents,  his  lordship  ques- 
tioned Fletcher  as  to  its  name  and  lineage.  '  I  really  don't  know,  my 
lord,'  was  the  reply.  'Then  away  with  it,*  he  rejoined;  *I  hate  anony* 
mous  wine.' 

*'  On  looking  over  the  arms  about  the  room,  his  Lordship  asked  the 
principal  of  the  party  if  he  would  like  to  try  a  shot  with  pistols  ?  On  his 
answering  affirmatively,  they  walked  up  to  the  landing-place  of  the  out- 
side stairs,  from  which  they  fired  at  Maraschino  botUes,  placed  on  a 
pilaster  in  the  court,  upwards  of  twelve  paces  off.  They  had  an  equal 
number  of  shots.  Byron  struck  each  time.  His  antagonist  missed  once, 
although  a  very  good  shot.  But  one  of  Lord  j Byron's  was  excellent : — the 
upper  rim  of  a  bottle  which  his  competitor  broke,  fell  on  the  top  of  the 
pilaster,  and  remained  there,  reduced  to  a  size  not  much  larger  than  a 
finger-ring.  Instead  of  having  another  bottle  placed,  he  took  aim  at  this 
fragment,  and  reduced  it  to  dust.  His  precision  was  the  more  surprising, 
because  his  hand  shook  as  if  under  the  influence  of  an  ague  fit,  and  the 
time  he  took  to  take  aim  would  have  made  any  other  man's  hands  un- 
steady. On  trying  at  the  same  marks,  placed  out  of  everything  like 
pistol-range,  neither  succeeded.  As  each  fired,  a  large  Labrador  (Bull J 
dog,  named  Lion,  ran  and  picked  up  the  bottle,  which  he  laid  at  the 
bottom  of  the  stair.  I  remarked  to  Lord  Byron,  as  we  were  laughing  at 
his  officiousness,*Thatis  an  honest  Tyke  of  yours.' — '  Oh !  oh!'  he  replied, 
*  I  find  you  are  half  a  countryman  of  mine.' — '  I  answered  I  was  a  whole 
Scotsman.' — 'Then,  we  are  half  countrymen,' said  he ;  'my  mother  was 
Scotch.' "—pp.  198— 207,  vol.ii. 

We  close  our  extracts  from  this  rambling  work  of  '  Days  and 
Nights  of  Sportsmen '  in  Wales,  with  the  author's  fiarewell  to  that 
country. 


The  Life  of  Mrs,  Hamnah  Mare.  16fir 

"Those  who  trttvel  in  order  to  enjoy  the  beauties  of  nature,  and  who 
merely  wish  to  find  a  comfortable  shelter  for  the  night,  and  a  sufficiency 
of  wholeaome  food,  may  be  well  accommodated  at  almost  every  inn  in 
Wales,  may  proceed  fearlessly  night  or  day,  from  mountain  to  mountain, 
from  lake  to  lake,  from  river  to  river,  as  fancy  or  inclination  directs — 
may  even,  if  pennyless,  enter  into  any  cottage,  and  share  the  peasant's 
humble  meal,  and  find  himself,  '  though  a  stranger,'  in  the  words  of  a 
Welsh  poet, 'kindly greeted.'"* 

"Let  the  valetudinarian,  the  malatie  imaginaire,  «ad  the  epicure,  and 
those  who  make  their  happiness  to  consist  in  indolence,  and  what  they  call 
eamforts,  remain  in  their  easy  chairs  at  their  clubs ;  to  each  of  theni  I 
would  say  in  the  words  of  Horace — 'tu  nidum  servos ,*  They  are  un-. 
worthy  to  breathe  the  pure  mountsdn  air,  or  to  revel  in  the  varied  delights 
that  are  to  be  found  in  the  wild  and  wonderful  of  nature — ^to  trace  the 
Hvy  from  its  source,  or  to  see  the  sun  lise  or  set  over  Cader  Idris." — 
pp.  270,271,  vol.  ii. 

And  so  say  we.  But  to  conclude ;  these  two  volumes  abound 
with  pleasant  narratives,  and  considerable  information  regarding, 
the  '  GeaUe  Art/  which  indeed  the  author  should  be  well  qualified 
to  give,  from  his  experience'^  on  so  many  difierent  rivers,  in  various 
regions  of  the  earth.  But  for  ourselves,  we  have  never  found  much 
benefit  from  books  on  this  subject,  and  we  presume  Mr.  Medwin, 
has  rather  here  adopted  the  character  of  an  Angler,  whereon  to 
hang  every  thing  else  he  wished  to  tell,  than  with  the  view  or 
hope  of  becoming  a  guide  in  the  art. 

Art.  II. — Life  and  Correspondence  of  Mrs.  Hannah  More.     4  Voh. 

London :  .  Seeley  and  Bumside.     1834. 

On  two  different  grounds  this  work  deserves  particular  notice; 
first,  on  account  of  its  own  intrinsic  merits,  and  next,  as  presenting 
that  which  belongs  to  an  age  lately  gone  by.  As  to  the  first  point, 
we  are  of  opinion  that  Hannah  was  fiilly  rewarded  during  her  life- 
time; that  she  was  in  this  sense  lucky  to  an  extraordinary  degree; 
at  the  same  time,  it  is  our  desire  that  her  writings  should  take  a 
permanent  stand  amogst  our  modem  Uterature,  chiefly  by  reason 
of  their  modest  purity,  and  exalted  religious  character.  There  is 
another  strong  claim  which  they  possess  to  popular  fieivour, — ^we 
mean  the  abundance  of  anecdotes  presented  in  them,  connected 
with  the  greatest  names  of  a  bye-gone  age.  Mrs.  More's  materials 
were  thus  as  attractive  and  excellent  as  her  powers  in  handling 
them  could  be.  The  very  hasty  manner  in  which  we  have  glanced 
at  the  first  volume,  does  not  authorize  us  to  speak  with  much  parti- 
cularity of  its  contents  in  a  critical  point  of  view.  One  thing  is 
manifest,  that  it  is  full  of  highly  interesting  matter :  and,  we 
believe  the  work  will  have  a  good  sale. 

But  before  entering  upon  the  direct  bistorv  of  Mrs.  More,  which 
has  fallen  into  the  hanos  of  a  highly  gifted  biographer,  we  must 


*  Onid  cyvarwydd  cyvarch. 


156  Tke  Life  of  Mrs.  Hannah  More, 

dwell  far  a  Kttle  on  the  marveDous  transitions  that  have  taken  place 

in  literature,  as  well  as  in  society,  since  she  began  to  write  and  to 
obtain  fame.  And  here  we  cannot  do  better  than  use  the  words  of 
him  who  presents  us  with  her  life.  "It  is/'  says  he,  "a  matter  of 
no  light  moment  to  bring  the  memory  of  Hannah  More  fairly 
before  the  world.  Her  history  and  her  character,  in  great  part, 
belong  to  and  represent  an  age,  the  ibrm  and  pressure  of  which 
has'<^  late  been  rapidly  dis^peoring,  and  to  give  place  to  a  new 
order  of  things  and  a  very  different  system  of  manners, — ^whether 
better  or  worse,  may  be  variously  affirmed :  in  some  poiQtB  jso- 
fessedly  better,  in  others  not  so  good ;  but  certainly  very  differently 
constituted,  and  disclosing  very  different  tendencies.  In  the  twi- 
light of  the  old,  and  in  the  dawn  of  the  new  era,  Mrs.  More  ac- 
complished her  date  here, — succeeded  it  may  be  by  ladies  more 
talking  and  talked  about,  but  probably  by  none  so  capable  of 
making  the  voice  of  instruction  echo  from  the  cottage  to  the  saloon, 
— ^from  the  house  of  clay  to  the  hall  of  cedar.  To  embody  the 
likeness  and  perpetuate  the  remembrance  of  such  a  person  is  to 
preserve  the  best  specimen  of  the  past,  to  be  contrasted  with  the 
present  generation,  and  in  some  sort  to  repress  the  rising  fancies, 
fopperies,  and  excesses,  which  are  apt  to  accompany  the  develope- 
ment  of  new  opinions,  and  to  propel  the  mind  in  a  career  of  self- 
adulation  to  a  dangerous  distance  from  old  paths  and  the  lights  of 
experience.  There  was  a  happy  balance  in  the  qualities  of  this 
gifted  lady,  which  kept  her  from  all  extremes.  With  a  due  esti- 
mate of  the  value  of  modern  advancement,  she  retained  the  savour 
of  our  island  character,  as  it  was  once  distinguished  by  its  probity 
and  plainness  among  the  communities  of  Christendom.  What  wo- 
man was^  and  what  woman  is,  in  her  best  state,  in  the  past  and 
present  periods  of  our  domestic  history,  were  displayed  in  her  de- 
portment I  and  what  woman  should  be  under  all  estates,  was  illus- 
trated in  those  principles,  which  raised  her  character  above  the 
reach  of  shifting  opinions,  and  made  it  a  patteni  for  all  times  and 
all  countries." 

Her  life  is  to  be  found  nearly  complete,  in  a  series  of  letters, 
partly  written  to,  and  partly  written  by  some  of  the  greatest  per- 
sons of  George  the  Third's  reign.  Her  father's  name  was  Jacob, 
of  a  respectable  Norfolk  family,  and  she  was  the  youngest  but  one 
of  five  daughters.  She  was  born,  however,  in  Gloucestershire, 
whither  he  had  removed.  She  got  some  instruction  from  him  in 
the  Latin  tongue  and  mathematics,  but  seems  chiefly  to  have  been 
indebted  to  her  elder  sisters  who  had  been  educated  for  school- 
mistresses, and  who  opened  a  boarding-school  at  Bristol.  The  elder 
Sheridan  was  lecturing  in  that  town  when  she  was  in  her  sixteenth 
year,  with  whom  she  became  acquainted  through  a  copy  of  verses 
she  addressed  to  him;  for  her  talent  was  precocious.  Her  father, 
indeed,  is  said  to  have  been  frightened  at  his  success  in  his  early 
attempts  to  instruct  her.     Among  her  earliest  writings  were  "  Sup- 


The  Lift  of  Mrs,  Hannah  More,  157 

potttitiouB  letters  to  depraved  characterayto  reclaim  them  from  their 
errors,  and  letters  in  return  expressive  of  contrition  and  amende 
meIlt^— - 

"  In  her  days  of  infancy,  when  she  could  possess  herself  of  a  scrap  of 
paper,  her  delight  was  to  scribble  upon  it  some  essay  or  poem,  with  some 
well-directed  rooral,  whicb  was  afterwards  secreted  in  a  dark  corner,  where 
the  servant  kept  her  brushes  and  dusters.  Her  little  sister,  with  whom  she 
slept,  was  usually  the  repository  of  her  nightly  effusions ;  who,  in  her  ze^l 
lest  these  compositions  should  be  lost,  would  sometimes  steal  down  to  pro- 
cure a  light,  and  commit  them  to  the  first  scrap  of  paper  whicb  she  could 
find..  Among  the  characterislics  sports  of  Hannah's  childhood,  which  their 
mother  was  fond  of  recording,  we  are  told  that  she  was  wont  to  make  a 
carriage  of  a  chair,  and  tiien  to  call  her  sistexB  to  ride  with  her  to  London 
to  see  bishops  and  booksellers ;  an  intercourse  which  we  shall  hereaf  t^ 
show  to  have  been  realbed.  The  greatest  wish  which  her  imagination 
could  ^me,  when  her  scraps  of  paper  were  exhausted,  was,  that  one  day 
she  might  be  rich  enough  to  have  a  whole  quire  to  herself.  And  when,  by 
her  mother's  indulgence,  the  prize  was  obtained,  it  was  soon  filled  with 
supposititious  letters  to  depraved  characters  to  reclaim  them  from  their 
errors,  and  letters  in  return  expressive  of  contrition  and  resolutions  of 
amendment." — pp.  13, 14,  vol.  i. 

In  her  seventeenth  year^  1762,  she  wrote  the  pastoral  drama, 
called  'The  search  after  Happiness/  which  led  to  her  introduction 
to  the  best  society  in  London,  both  in  a  literary  point  of  view  and 
as  regarded  eminence  of  station.  The  constant  and  strong  interest 
which  Garrick  and  his  wife  took  in  her  success  was  the  great  cause 
of  her  speedy  advancement  in  popular  and  high  &vour ;  and  throoght 
this  intimacy  she  was  enabled  to  give  a  faithful  picture  of  the  cele- 
brated actor^s  domestic  life,  which  is  truly  gratifying.  Burke  and 
Dr.  Johnson  came  of  course  to  be  added  to  the  list  of  her  ac- 
quaintance, and  to  have  become  besides,  her  hearty  friends.  Her 
sister  gives  a  spirited  account  of  Hannah's  first  interview  with  the 
great  dictionary  man : — 

"We  have  paid  another  visit  to  Mrs.  Reynolds.  She  had  sent  to  engage 
Dr.  Percy  (Percy's  collection — now  you  know  him),  quite  a  sprightly  mo-' 
dem,  instead  of  a  rusty  antique,  as  I  expected.  He  was  no  sooner  gone 
than  the  most  amiable  and  obliging  of  women  (Miss  Reynolds)  ordered 
the  coach  to  take  us  to  Dr.  Johnson's  very  oxrni  house;  yes,  Abyssinia's 
Johnson!  Dictionary  Johnson !  Rambler's,  Idler's  and  Irene's  Johnson  I 
Can  you  picture  to  yourselves  the  palpitation  of  our  hearts  as  we  ap- 
proached his  mansion  ?  The  conversation  turned  upon  a  new  worit  of  his, 
just  going  to  the  press,  (the  Tour  of  the  Hebrides,)  and  his  old  friend 
Richardson.  Mrs.  Williams  the  blind  poet,  who  lives  with  him,  was  in- 
troduced to  us.  She  is  engaging  in  her  manners;  her  conversation  lively 
and  entertaining.  Miss  Reynolds  told  the  Doctor  of  all  our  rapturons 
exclamations  on  the  road.  He  shook  his  scientific  head  at  Hannah,  and 
said.  •  She  was  a  sUly  thing.*  When  our  visit  was  ended,  he  called  for  his 
hat  (as  it  rained),  to  attend  us  down  a  very  long  entry  to  our  coach,  and 
not  Rasselas  could  have  acquitted  himself  more  en  cavalier.    We  are  en- 


168  T tie  Life  of  Mrs,  Hannah  More, 

^^aged  with  him  at  Sir  Joshua's,  Wednesday  evening.    What  do  yon  thin  k 

of  UB? 

"I  forgot  to  mention,  that  not  finding  Johnson  in  his  little  parlour  when 
we  came  in,  Hannah  seated  herself  in  his  great  chair,  hoping  to  catch  a 
Kttle  ray  of  his  genius;  when  he  heard  it  he  laughed  heartily,  and  told 
ber  it  was  a  chair  on  which  he  never  sat.  He  said  it  reminded  him  of 
Boswell  and  himself,  when  they  stopt  a  night  at  the  spot  (as  they  imagined) 
where  the  Weird  Sisters  appeared  to  Macbeth ;  the  idea  so  u  orked  upon 
their  enthusiasm  that  it  quite  deprived  them  of  rest ;  however,  they 
learned  the  next  morning,  to  their  mortification,  that  they  had  been  de- 
ceived, and  were  quite  in  another  part  of  the  country." — pp.  49, 50,  vol  i. 

One  never  tires  with  hearing  of  this  wonderful  literary  giant. 
Her  ^Sir  Eldred  of  the  Bower/  appeared  in  1776^  and  was  com- 
plimented extravagantly  soon  afterwards.  Another  amusing  letter 
was  written  by  her  sister^  which  we  must  quote : — 

"  If  a  wedding  should  take  place  before  our  return,  don't  be  surprised' 
— between  the  mother  of  Sir  Eldred  and  the  father  of  my  much-loved 
Irene ;  nay,  Mrs.  Montagu  says  if  tender  words  are  the  precursors  of 
connubial  engagements,  we  may  expect  great  things ;  for  it  is  nothing  but 
'  child,' '  little  fool,'  '  love,'  and  '  dearest.*     After  much  critical  discourse, 
he  turns  round  to  me,  and,  with  one  of  his  most  amiable  looks,  which 
must  be  seen  to  form  the  least  idea  of  it,  he  says,  '  I  have  heard  that  you 
are  engaged  in  the  useful  and  honourable  employment  of  teaching  young 
ladies.'     Upon  which,  with  all  the  same  ease,  familiarity,  and  confidence 
we  should  have  done  had  only  our  own  dear  Dr.  Stonehouse  been  present, 
we  entered  upon  the  history  of  our  birth,  parentage,  and  education ;  shew- 
ing how  we  were  bom  with  more  desires  than  guineas ;  and  how,  as  years 
increased  our  appetites,  the  cupboard  at  home  began  to  grow  too  smdl  to 
gratify  them ;  and  how,  with  a  bottle  of  water,  a  bed,  and  a  blanket,  we 
set  out  to  seek  our  fortunes ;  and  how  we  found  a  great  house  with  no- 
thing in  it;  and  how  it  was  like  to  remain  so,  till, looking  into  our  know- 
ledge-boxes, we  happened  to  find  a  little  laming,  a  good  thing  when  land 
is  gone,  or  rather  none  :  and  so  at  last,  by  giving  a  little  of  this  little  lam- 
ing  to  those  who  had  less,  we  got  a  good  store  of  g<^d  in  return ;  but  how, 
alas !  we  wanted  the  wit  to  keep  it. — '  I  love  you  both,'  cried  the  inaino- 
rate—*  I  love  you  all  five — I  never  was  at  Bristol — I  will  come  on  puipose 
to  see  you.    What !  five  women  live  happily  together ! — I  will  come  and 
see  you — I  have  spent  a  happy  evening — I  am  glad  I  came — God  for  ever 
bless  you !  you  live  to  shame  duchesses.'   He  took  his  leave  with  so  much 
"Warmth  and  tenderness  that  we  were  quite  affected  at  his  manner.     If 
Hannah's  head  stands  proof  against  all  the  adulation  and  kindness  of  the 
great  folks  here,  why,  Uien,  I  will  venture  to  say  nothing  of  this  kind  will 
hurt  her  hereafter.    A  literary  anecdote  : — Mrs.  Medalle  (Sterne's  daugh- 
ter) sent  to  all  the  correspondents  of  her  deceased  father,  begging  the  let- 
ters which  he  had  written  to  them ;  among  other  wits,  she  sent  to  Wilkes 
with  the  same  request.     He  sent  for  answer,  that  as  there  happened  to  be 
notiiing  extraordinary  in  those  he  had  received,  he  had  burnt  or  lost  them. 
On  which,  the  faithful  editor  of  her  father's  works  sent  back  to  say,  that  if 
Mr.  Wilkes  would  be  so  good  as  to  write  a  few  letters  in  imitation  of  her 
father's  style,  it  would  do  just  as  well,  and  she  would  insert  them." — 
pp.  66,  67,  vol.  i, 


The  Life  of  Mrs.  Harmah  Mere,  169 

When  gpeakmg  of '  Sir  Eldred/  it  is  natural  that  we  shoidd  look 
twice  upon  any  reference  at  so  early  a  date  made  to  our  journal, 
the  oldest  4ma  n^ost  lasting  of  the  family  it  belongs  to.  The 
ancient  and  honourable  character  of  our  House  cannot  be  ques- 
tioned : — 

"  I'll  tell  you  the  most  ridiculouB  circumstance  in  the  worid.  After 
dinner,  Garrick  took  up  the  Monthly  Review  (civil  gentlemen,  by  the  bye, 
these  Monthly  Reviewers),  and  read  'Sir  Eldred'  with  all  his  pathos  and 
an  his  graces.  I  think  I  never  was  so  ashamed  in  my  life;  but  he  read  it 
ao  superlatively,  that  I  cried  like  a  child.  Only  think  what  a  scandalous 
thing  to  cry  at  the  reading  of  one's  own  poetry!  I  could  have  beaten  my- 
self; for  it  looked  as  if  I  thought  it  very  moving,  which  I  can  truly  say, 
IB  far  from  being  the  case.  But  the  beauty  of  the  jest  lies  in  this :  Mrs. 
Garrick  twinkled  as  well  as  I,  and  made  as  many  apologies  for  crying  at 
her  husband's  reading  as  I  did  for  crying  at  my  own  verses.  She  got 
out  of  the  scrape  by  pretending  she  was  touched  at  the  story,  and  /,  by 
saying  the  same  thing  of  the  reading." — p.  70.  voL  i. 

There  .are  two  features  in  Mrs.  More's  character^  that  frequently 
and  pretty  early  displayed  themselves ;  different  indeed  but  not  in- 
compatible. The  one  is  a  composed  and  satisfactory  conception  of 
her  own  literary  merits ;  the  other^  that  tone  of  seriousness^  which 
amidst  the  great  gaiety  of  her  younger  years^  was  found  to  have 
been  famiUar  to  her.  Think  of  her  patronizing  Sheridan's  ^  Rivals/ 
in  these  authoritative  words : — 

"We  have  been  to  see  the  new  comedy  of  young  Sheridan, '  The 
Rivals.'  It  was  very  unfavourably  received  the  first  night,  and  he  had 
the  prudence  to  prevent  a  total  defeat,  by  withdravang  it,  and  making 
jgreeX  and  various  improvements ;  the  event  has  been  successful,  for  it  is 
now  ^^^  though  not  i^ery  much  liked.  For  my  own  part,  I  think  he 
ought  to  be  treated  with  great  indulgence :  much  is  to.be  forgiven  in  an 
anthor  of  tibree  and  twenty,  whose  genius  is  likely  to  be  bis  principal  in- 
heritance." 

Garrick  wrote  a  prologue  and  epilogue  to  her  maiden  tragedy, 
'Percy/  and  she  with  great  complacency  tells : — 

"  When  Garrick  had  finished,  his  prologue  and  epilogue  (which  are  ex- 
cellent) he  desired  I  would  pay  him.  Dryden,  he  said,  used  to  have  five 
guineas  apiece ;  but  as  he  was  a  richer  man,  he  would  be  content  if  I 
would  treat  him  with  a  handsome  supper  and  a  bottle  of  claret.  We 
haggled  sadly  about  the  price,  I  insisting  that  I  could  only  afford  to  give 
him  a  beef  steak  and  a  pot  of  porter;  and  at  about  twelve  we  set  down 
to  some  toast  and  honey,  with  which  the  temperate  bard  contented  him- 
self. Several  very  great  ones  made  interest  to  hear  Garrick  read  the 
play,  which  he  peremptorily  refused." — ^p.  122,  vol.  i. 

However,  all  this  was  very  excusable  in  one  whom  the  dons  of 
fashion  and  erudition  were  so  unsparingly  loading  with  praise.  Her 
serious  moods  were  more  attractive  and  becoming.  Indeed,  she 
looks  best  when  plain  common  sense  and  careful  observation  guides 
her.     It  is  of  the  Opera  she  thus  writes  : — • 


1^  Life  of  Mrs,  Hannah  More, 

Bear  me,  some  god,  O  quickly  bear  me  hence, 
*;  To  wholesome  solitude,  the  nurse  of 

*  Sepse/  I  was  going  to  add  in  the  words  of  Pope,  till  I  reelected  that 
pence  had  a  more  appropriate  meaning,  and  was  as  good  a  rhyme.  This 
apostrophe  broke  from  me  on  coming  horn  the  Opera,  the  first  I  ever  iK^ 
the  last,  I  trust,  I  ever  shall  go  to.  For  what  purpose  has  the  Lord  of  the 
universe  made  his  creature  man  with  a  comprehensive  mind  ?  why  make 
him(  a  little  lower  than  the  angels  ?  why  give  him  the  faculty  of  thinking, 
the  powers  of  wit  and  memory ;  and,  to  crown  all,  an  immortal  and  never 
dying  spirit  ?  Why  all  this  wondrous  waste,  this  prodigality  of  bounty,  if 
the  mere  animal  senses  of  sight  and  hearing  (by  which  he  is  not  diE^ia- 
guished  from  the  brutes  that  perish)  would  have  answered  the  end  as  well ; 
and  yet  I  find  the  same  people  are  seen  at  the  Opera  every  night^-Hui 
amusement  written  in  a  language  the  greater  part  of  them  do  not  under- 
stand, and  performed  by  such  a  set  of  beings !  But  the  man 

'  Who  bad«  tht  reign  iioxnmeiice, 
Of  rescued  nature  and  reviving  sense/ 

sat  at  my  elbow,  and  reconciled  me  to  my  situation,  not  by  his  approbation, 
but  his  presence.  Going  to  the  Opera,  like  getting  drunk,  is  a  sin  that 
carries  its  own  punishment  with  it,  and  that  a  very  severe  one.  Tliank  my 
dear  Doctor  S.  for  his  kind  and  seasonable  admonitions  on  my  last  Sunday's 
engagement  at  Mrs.  Montagu's.  Conscience  had  done  its  office  before  ; 
nay,  was  busy  at  the  time ;  and  if  it  did  not  dash  the  cup  of  Pleasure  to  the 
ground,  infused  at  least  a  tincture  of  wormwood  into  it.  I  ^d  think  of  the 
alarming  call, '  What  doest  thou  here,  Elijah  ?'  and  I  thought  of  it  to-night 
at  the  Opera." — ^pp.  65, 56,  vol.  i. 

Again : — 

*'  Would  you  believe  it  ?    In  the  midst  of  all  the  pomps  and  vanities 
of  this  wicked  town,  I  have  taken  it  into  my  head  to  study  Hkea  dra- 
gon ;  I  read  four  or  five  hours  every  day,  and  wrote  ten  hours  yester- 
day.    How  long  this  will  last  I  do  not  know — hvit  I  fe&r  no  longer  than 
the  bad  weather.     I  wish  you  could  see  a  picture  Sir  Joshua  has  just 
finished,  of  the  prophet  Samuel,  on  his  being  called.    '  The  gaze  of  young 
astonishment '  was  never  so  beautifully  expressed.     Sir  Joshua  tells  me 
that  he  is  exceedingly  mortified  when  he  shews  this  picture  to  some  of 
the  great — they  ask  him  who  Samuel  was?     I  told  him  he  must  g^ 
somebody  to  make  an  Oratorio  of  Samuel,  and  then  it  would  not  be 
vulgar io  confess  they  knew  something  of  him.     He  said  he  was  glad  to 
find  that  I  was  intimately  acquainted  with  that  devoted  prophet.     He 
has  also  done  a  St.  John  that  bids  fair  for  immortality.     I  tell  him  that 
I  hop^  the  poets  and  painters  will  at  last  bring  the  Bible  into  fashion, 
and  that  people  will  get  to  like  it  from  taste,  though  they  ate  insensible 
to  its  spirit,  and  afraid  of  its  doctrines.     I  love  this  great  genius  for  not 
being  ashamed  to  take  his  subject  from  the  most  unfasluonable  of  all 
books.     Keeping  bad  company  leads  to  all  other  bad  things.     I  have  got 
the   headache  to-day,  by  raking  out  so  late  with  that  gay   hbertine 
Johnson.     Do  you  know — I  did  not — that  ho  wrote  a  quarter  of  the 
Adventurer?  I  made  him  tell  me  all  that  he  wrote  in  the  'Fugitive 
pieces.'  " — ^pp.  71,  72,  vol.  i. 

The  finest  and  most  instructive  parts  of  the  volume^  which  un- 
braces a  period  of  forty  years,   from  the  birth  of  its   subject  in 


lAft  of  Mrs.  Hmmah  M^re,  161 

1745  to  the  yew  1785,  are  those  that  regard  what  she  sees  and 
hears,  rather  than  what  she  has  done  and  is.  Yet  we  must  not 
charge  her  directly  with  vvnity ;  her  good  opinion  of  herself  was 
rather  simple  and  artless  than  ostentatious;  -and  we  cannot  but 
regard  her  with  the  kindliest  affections,  when  it  is  remembered  that 
on  returning  to  Bristol,  as  her  biographer  tells  us,  after  a  six 
months'  absence,  four  of  which  had  been  passed  between  the 
Adelphi  and  Hampton,  it  was  remarked,  that  success  and  applause 
had  not  made  any  change  in  her  deportment.  Take  the  picture  of 
the  trial  of  the  Duchess  of  Kingston : — 

"  I  wish  it  were  possible  for  me  to  give  you  the  slightest  idea  of  the 
scene  I  was  present  at  yesterday.     Garrick  would  make  me  take  his 
ticket  to  go  to  the  trial  of  the  Duchess  of  Kingston ;  a  sight  which,  for 
beauty  and  magnificence,  exceeded  any  thing  which  those  who  were 
never  present  at  a  coronation,  or  a  trial  by  peers,  can  have  the  least 
notion  of.     Mrs.  Gku*rick  and  1  were  in  full  dress  by  seven.    At  eight 
we  went  to  the  Duke  of  Newcastle's,  whose  house  adjoins  Westminster 
Hall,  in  which  he  has  a  large  gallery,  communicating  with  the  apart- 
ments in  his  house.     You  will  imagine  the  bustle  of  five  thousand  people 
getting  into  one  hall !  yet  in  all  this  hurry,  we  iimlked  in  trauauilly. 
When  they  were  all  seated,  and  the  King-at-arms  had  commanded  silence 
on  pain  of  imprisonment,  (which,  however,  was  very  ill  observed,)  the 
gentleman  of  the  black  rod  was  commanded  to  bring  in  his  prisoner. 
EHzabeth,  calling  herself  Duchess  Dowager  of  Kingston,  walked  in,  led 
by  black  rod  and  Mr.  la  Roche^  courtesying  profoundly  to  her  judges : 
when  she  bent,   the  lord  steward  called  out,  *  Madam,  you  may  rise; 
.which,  1  think,  was  literally  taking  her  up  before  she  was  down.    The 
peers  made  her  a  slight  bow.     The  prisoner  was  dressed  in  deep  mourn- 
ing, a  black  hood  on  her  head,  her  hair  modestly  dressed  and  powdered, 
A  black  silk  sacque,  with  crape  trimmings ;  black  gauze  deep  ruffles,  and 
black  gloves.     The  counsel  spoke  about  an  hour  and  a  quarter  each. 
Dunning's  manner  is  insufferably  bad,  coughing  and  spitting  at  every 
three  words;  but  his  sense  and  his  expression,  pointed  to  the  last  degree ; 
he  made  her  Grace  shed  bitter  tears.    I  haa  the  pleasure  of  hearing 
several  of  the  lords  speak,  though  nothing  mpte  than  proposals  on  com- 
mon things.      Among  these  were  Littleton,  Talbot,  Townsend,  and 
Camden.     The  fair  victim  had  four  virgins  in  white  behind  the  bar. 
She  imitated  her  great  predecessor,  Mrs.  Rudd,  and  affected  to  write 
very  often,  though  I  plainly  perceived  she  only  wrote  as  they  do  their 
love  epistles  on  the  stage,  without  forming  a  letter.    I  must  not  omit  one 
of  the  best  things ;  we  had  only  to  open  a  door,  to  get  at  a  very  fine  cold 
collation  of  all  sorts  of  meats  and  wines,  with  tea,  &c. — a  privilege  con- 
iined  to  those  who  belonged  to  the  Duk^  of  Newcastle.     I  fancy  the 
peeresses  would  have  been  glad  of  our  places  at  the  trial,  for  I  saw  Lady 
■Derby  and  the  Duchess  of  Devonshire  with  their  work-bags  full  of  good 
things.  Their  rank  and  dignity  did  not  exempt  them  from  the  'villainous 
appetites'  of  eating  4nd  drinking." 

If  Garrick's  partiality  towfiurds  his  protegee,  affords  a  lively  pic- 
ture' of  genuine  goodness^  her  devotion  in  return  was  no  less  re- 
markable. She  must  have  nicely  understood  and  ardently  admired 
his  'Hamlet:' — 

VOL.  III.    (1834.)   NO.  II.  N 


162  The  Life  of  Mrs.  Hannah  Hore. 

"  In  every  part  he  filled  the  whole  soul  of  the  spectator,  and  tran- 
scended the  most  finished  idea  of  the  poet.  The  requisites  for  Hamlet 
are  iK>t  only  various,  but  opposed.  In  him  they  are  all  united,  and  as 
it  were  concentrated.  One  thing  I  must  particularly  remark,  that,  whe- 
ther in  the  simulation  of  madness,  in  the  sinkings  of  despair,  in  the 
familiarity  of  friendship,  in  the  whirlwind  of  passion,  or  in  ijie  meltings 
of  tenderness,  he  never  once  forgot  he  was  a  prince ;  and  in  every  va- 
riety of  situation,  and  transition  of  feeling,  you  discovered  the  highest 
polish  of  fine  breeding  and  courtly  manners.** — vol.  i.  pp.  85,  86. 

The  great  actor's  death  in  1779,  was  an  era  in  her  life^  and  the 
chief  interest  arising  from  the  perusal  of  the  first  volume,  may  be  said 
to  belong  to  what  goes  before  that  event.  At  least  her  gaiety  in  a 
great  measure  ceases  from  that  period.  We  are  sure  that  onir 
readers  will  peruse  with  much  satisfiiction  and  profit,  the  following 
long  passage,  which  has  deeply  afiected  ourselves.  There  is  more 
than  fine  writing  in  it,  and  more  than  David  Garrick's  death. 
Hannah  from  a  sick  bed,  goes  to  attend  the  new-made  widow;  and 
here  is  their  meeting  :«- 

"  Adelphi,  Jan^  1779. 

*'  From  Dr«  Cadogans,  1  intended  to  have  gone  to  the  Adelphi.  but 
found  that  Mrs.  Garrick  was  that  moment  quitting  her  house,  while 
preparatious  were  making  for  the  last  sad  ceremony ;  she  very  wisely 
fixed  on  a  private  friend's  house  for  this  purpose,  where  she  could  be  at 
her  case.    I  got  there  just  hefore  her ;  she  was  prepared  for  meeting  me ; 
she  ran  into  my  arms,  and  we  hoth  remained  silent  for  some  minutes : 
at  last  she  whispered,  *  I  have  this  moment  embraced  his  ooffin»  and  you 
come  next.'    She  soon  recovered  herself,  and  said  with  great  compomote, 
*  The  goodness  of  God  to  me  is  inexpressible ;  I  desired  to  die,  bat  it  is 
his  will  that  I  should  live,  and  he  has  convinced  me  he  will  not  let  my 
life  be  quite  miserable,  for  he  gives  astonishing  strength  to  my  body, 
and  gr€U!&  to  my  heart ;  neither  do  I  deserve,  but  I  am  thankful  for 
both.      She  thanked  me  a  thousand  times  for  such  a  real  act  of  frieod- 
ship,  and  bade  me  be  comforted,  for  it  was  God's  will.    She  told  me 
they  had  just  returned  from  Althorp,  Lord  Spencer's,  where  he  had 
4>een  reluctantly  dragged,  for  he  had  felt  unwell  for  some  time;  but 
during  his  visit  he  was  often  in  such  fine  spirits  that  they  could  not  be^ 
lievc  he  was  ill.     On  his  return  home  he  appointed  Gadogan  to  meet 
him,  who  ordered  him  an  emetic,  the  warm  baUi,  and  the  usual  remedies, 
but  with  very  little  effect.    On  the  Sunday  he  was  in  good  spirits  and 
free  from  pain;  but  as  the  suppression  still  continued.  Dr.  Cadogan 
became  extremely  alarmed,  and  sent  for  Pott,  Heberden,  and  Schom* 
berg,  who  gave  him  up  the  moment  they  saw  him.    Poor  Garriek  stared 
to  see  his  room  full  of  doctors,  not  being  conscious  of  his  real  state.     No 
change  happened  till  the  Tuesday  evening,  when  the  surgeon  who  was 
sent  for  to  blister  and  bleed  him,  made  light  of  his  illness,  assuring  Mrs. 
Garrick  that  he  would  be  well  in  a  day  or  two,  and  insisted  on  her  going 
to  lie  down.     Towards  morning  she  desired  to  be  called  if  there  was  the 
least  change.     Every  time  that  she  administered  the  draughts  to  him  in 
the  night,  he  always  squeezed  her  hand  in  a  particular  manner,  and 
tipoke  to  her  with  the  greatest  tenderness  and  affection.     Immediately 
after  he  had  taken  his  last  medicine,  he  softly  said,  •  Oh !  dcar,'^  and 


J 


The  Life  of  Mrs,  Hannah  More.  163 

yielded  up  his  spirit  without  a  groan,  and  in  his  perfect  senses.  His 
beliaviour  during  the  night  was  all  gentleness  and  patience,  and  he 
frequently  made  apologies  to  those  about  him,  for  the  trouble  he  gave 
them. 

^'  On  opening  him,  a  stone  was  found  that  measured  five  inches  and  a 
half  round  one  way,  and  four  and  a  half  the  other,  yet  this  was  not  the 
immediate  cause  of  his  death ;  his  kidneys  were  quite  gone.  I  paid  a 
melancholy  visit  to  the  coffin  yesterday,  where  I  found  room  for  medita- 
tion, till  the  mind  'burst  with  thinking.'  His  new  house  is  not  so 
pleasant  as  Hampton,  nor  so  splendid  as  the  Adelphi,  but  it  is  commo- 
dious enough  for  all  the  wants  of  its  inhabitants ;  and  besides,  it  is  so 
quiet,  that  he  never  will  be  disturbed  till  the  eternal  morning,  and  never 
till  then  will  a  sweeter  voice  than  his  own  be  heard.  May  he  then  find 
mercy !  They  are  preparing  to  hang  the  house  with  black,  for  he  is  to 
lie  in  state  till  Monday.  I  dislike  this  pageantry,  and  cannot  help  think- 
ing that  the  disembodied  spint  must  look  with  contempt  upon  the  farce 
that  is  played  over  its  miserable  relics.  But  a  splendid  funeral  could 
not  be  avoided,  as  he  is  to  be  laid  in  the  Abbey  with  such  illustrious 
dust,  and  so  many  are  desirous  of  testifying  their  respect  by  attending. 

"  I  can  never  cease  to  remember  with  affection  and  gratitude,  so 
warm,  steady,  and  disinterested  a  friend;  and  1  can  most  truly  bear 
this  testimony  to  hss. memory,  that  I  never  witnessed,  in  any  family,  more 
decorum,  propriety^  and  regularity  than  in  his :  where  I  never  saw  a 
card,  or  even  met,  (ex^pt  in  one  instance^  a  person  of  his  own  profes- 
sion at  his  table :  of  which  Mrs.  Garrick,  oy  her  elegance  of  taste,  her 
correetness  of  manners,  and  very  original  turn  of  humour,  was  the 
brightest  ornament.  All  his  pursuits  and  tastes  were  so  decidedly  intel- 
lectual, that  it  made  the  society,  and  the  conversation  which  was  always 
to  be  found  in  his  circle,  interesting  and  ddightful." — vol.  i.  pp.  147-^149. 

But  the  drama  of  life^  and  the  fashion  of  this  worlds  are  more 
highly  finished  by  this  ferther  account  :— 

«  Adelphi,  Feb.  2,  1779. 
"  We  ^Miss  Cadogan  and  myself,)  went  to  Charing  Cross  to  see  the 
melancholy  procession.  Just  as  we  got  there  we  received  a  ticket  from 
the  Bishop  of  Rochester,  to  admit  us  into  the  Abbey.  No  admittance 
could  be  obtained  but  under  his  hand.  Wc  hurried  away  in  a  hackney 
coach,  dreading  to  be  too  late.  The  bell  of  Su  Martin's  and  the  Abbey 
gave  a  sound  that  smote  upon  my  very  soul.  When  we  got  to  the 
cloisters,  we  found  multitudes  striving  for  admittance.  We  gave  our 
ticket,  and  were  let  in,  but  unluckily  we  ought  to  have  kept  it.  Wc 
followed  the  man  who  unlocked  a  door  of  iron,  and  directly  closed  it 
upon  us,  and  two  or  three  others,  and  we  found  ourselves  in  a  tower, 
with  a  dark  winding  staircase,  consisting  of  half  a  hundred  stone  ste|)6. 
When  we  got  to  the  top  Uiere  was  no  way  out;  we  ran  down  again, 
ealied,  and  oeat  the  door  till  the  whole  pile  resounded  with  our  cries. 
Here  we  staid  half  an  hour  in  perfect  agony ;  we  were  sure  it  would 
be  all  over;  nay,  we  might  never  be  let  out;  we  might  starve;  we 
might  perish.  At  length  our  clamours  brought  an  honest  man, — a  guar- 
dian angel  I  then  thought  him.  We  implored  him  to  take  care  of  us,  and 
get  us  into  a  part  of  the  abbey  whence  we  might  see  the  grave.  He 
asked  for  the  Bishop's  ticket ;  we  had  given  it  away  to  the  wrong  pcr- 

N  2 


164  The  Life  of  Mrs.  Hannah  Mare. 

son ;  and  he  was  not  obliged  to  believe  we  ever  had  one ;  yet  he  saw  so 
'  much  truth  in  our  grief,  that  though  we  were  most  shabby,  and  a  hundred 
fine  people  were  soliciting  the  same  favour,  he  took  us  under  each  arm — 
carried  us  safely  through  the  crowd,  and  put  us  in  a  little  gallery  directly 
over  the  grave,  where  we  could  see  and  hear  every  thing  as  distinctly  as 
if  the  Abbey  had  been  a  parlour.  little  things  sometimes  affect  the 
mind  strongly  I  We  were  no  sooner  recovered  from  the  fresh  burst  of 
grief  than  I  cast  my  eyes,  the  first  thing,  on  Handel's  monument,  and 
read  the  scroll  in  his  hand,  *  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth.'  Just 
at  three  the  great  doors  burst  open  with  a  noise  th.it  shook  the  roof; 
the  organ  struck  up,  and  the  whole  choir  in  stnCins  only  less  solemn  than 
the  'archangel's  trump,'  began  Handel's  fine  anthem.  The  whole 
choir  advanced  to  the  grave,  in  hoods  and  surplices,  singing  all  the  way : 
then  Sheridan,  as  chief-mourner;  then  the  body,  ^alas  I  whose  body!) 
with  ten  noblemen  and  gentlemen,  pall-bearers;  then  the  rest  of  the 
friends  and  mourners;  hardly  a  dry  eye,— the  very  players,  bred  to  the 
trade  of  counterfeiting,  shed  genuine  tears. 

**  As  soon  as  the  body  was  let  down,  the  bishop  began  the  service, 
which  he  read  in  a  low,  but  solemn  and  devout  manner.  Such  an  awful 
stillness  reigned,  that  every  word  was  audible.  How  I  felt  it !  Judge  if 
my  heart  did  not  assent  to  the  wish,  that  the  soul  of  our  dear  brother  now 
departed  was  in  pesce.  And  this  is  all  of  Garrick !  Yet  a  very  little 
while,  and  he  shall  *  say  to  the  worm.  Thou  art  my  brother ;  and  to  cor- 
ruption. Thou  art  my  mother  and  my  sister.'  So  passes  away  the  fashion 
of  this  world.  ■  And  the  very  night  he  was  buried,  the  playhouses  were 
as  full,  and  the  Pantheon  was  as  crowded,  as  if  no  such  thing  had  hap- 
pened :  nay,  the  very  mourners  of  the  day  partook  of  the  revelries  of  the 
night ; — the  same  night  too ! 

*'  As  soon  as  the  crowd  was  dispersed,  our  friend  came  to  us  with  an 
invitation  from  the  bishop's  lady,  to  whom  we  had  related  our  disaster, 
to  come  into  the  deanery.  We  were  carried  into  her  dressing  room, 
but  being  incapable  of  speech,  she  very  kindly  said  she  would  not  inter- 
rupt such  sorrow,  and  left  us ;  but  sent  up  wme,  cakes,  and  all  manner 
of  good  things,  which  was  really  well-timed*  I  caught  no  cold»  not- 
withstanding all  I  went  through. 

"  On  Wednesday  night  we  came  to  the  AdeTphi, — to  this  house  I  She 
bore  it  with  great  tranquillity ;  but  what  was  my  surprise  to  see  her  go 
alone  into  the  chamber  and  bed,  in  which  he  had  died  that  day  fortnight. 
She  had  a  delight  in  it  beyond  expression,  I  asked  her  the  next  day 
how  she  went  through  it  ?  She  told  me  very  well ;  that  she  first  prayed 
with  great  composure,  then  went  and  kissed  the  dear  bed,  and  got  into 
it  with  a  sad  pleasure." — vol.  i.  pp.  156 — 159. 

From  the  death  of  Garrick  to  her'retreat  to  Cowslip  Green^  an 
interval  of  about  five  years.  Miss  More  spent  much  of  her  time 
with  the  great  actor's  widow;  but  during  this  period  she  was  gra- 
dually detaching  herself  from  the  dazzling  attractions  of  the  gay 
world,  and  becoming  better  prepared  for  the  vocation  which  she 
afterwards  so  consistently  followed.  When  we  said,  therefore,  that 
the  chief  interest  of  the  first  volume  belonged  to  what  goes  before 
the  death  of  Garrick,  we  meant  only  in  so  far  as  concerned  her  in- 
tsrcoursc  with  fashionable  and  celebrated  characters,  and  the  fasci- 


The  Life  of  Mr9,  Hannah  Mare.  165 

nations  of  a  brilliant  town  life.  Bat  to  persons  of  a  kindred  mind, 
the  progress  of  the  transition  of  her  trusting  heart  and  calculating 
head  to  another  style  of  Hving  and  occupations  will  be  a  more 
valuable  portion  of  biography.  We  are  pleased  to  find,  that  this 
change  was  neither  hasty  nor  undergone  without  a  full  inquiry  on 
her  part,  into  the  end  and  the  means  she  had  in  view  so  that  the 
admirable  consistency  of  her  religious  history,  cannot  but  be  in- 
structive, and  beheld  to  be  rational.  It  is  usual  to  hear,  even  tcom 
the  lips  of  respectable  people  such  trite  sayings,  regarding  persons 
of  Hannah  More's  character,  as  intimate  that  a  less  decided  system 
of  opinions  would  have  been  more  creditable  than  those  which  she 
for  very  many  years  most  becomingly  upheld.  This  seems  a  very 
pitifid  mode  of  detraction,  and  argues,  at  least,  a  lukewarmness  on 
the  part  of  the  objector,  which  can  never  be  commendable,  and 
particularly  in  momentous  concerns.  But  what  is  worse,  Hannah 
More  has  not  unirequently  been  the  object  of  the  most  uncharitable 
and  ungrounded  iusmuations:  for  it  is  not  to  be  endured  by  some, 
that  such  excellence  should  be  left  to  shine  unsullied.  Because  no 
slip  is  to  be  found  in  her  life  that  can  be  quoted  to  the  ridicule  of 
her  high  religious  profession,  the  slanderers  tongue  has  first  pre- 
sumed that  she  coiud  not  have  been  so  faultless,  and  next  distorted 
certain  &cts  to  fToxeBL  faux  pas  in  her  history.  We  allude  to  a 
period  of  her  life  we  have  passed  beyond  in  our  extracts,  and  to 
certain  transactions,  which  when  fairly  stated,  redoimd  greatly  to 
her  honour.  Our  meaning  will  be  made  manifest  by  the  following 
passage: — 

**  At  about  the  age  of  twenty-two,  she  received  the  addresses  of  a 
gentleman  of  fortune,  more  than  twenty  years  older  than  herself.  He 
was  a  man  of  strict  honour  and  integrity,  had  received  a  liberal  educa- 
tion, and,  among  other  recommendations  of  an  intellectual  character, 
had  cultivated  a  taste  for  poetry,  and  had  shewn  much  skill  in  the  embel- 
lishments of  rural  scenery,  and  the  general  improvement  of  his  estate. 
But  for  the  estate  of  matrimony  he  appears  to  have  wanted  that  essential 
qualification,  a  cheerful  and  com|K)sed  temper.  The  prospect  of  mar- 
riage, with  the  appendage  of  an  indifferent  temper,  was  gloomy  enough, 
but  there  were  other  objections,  on  which  it  is  unimportant  to  dwell.  It 
will  be  enough  to  produce  an  extract  from  a  letter  received  by  the  exe- 
cutrix of  Mrs.  More  soon  after  her  decease,  written  by  a  lady  whose 
early  and  long  intimacy  with  Mrs.  More,  and  personal  knowledge  of  this 
delicate  transaction,  coupled  with  the  great  respectability  of  her  cha- 
racter, entitle  her  testimony  to  the  fullest  credit*. 

"  Keynsham,  near  Bristol,  Feb.  10, 1834. 
**  My  dear  Madam, — I  knew  the  late  Mrs.  Hannah  More  for  nearly 
sixty-four  years,  I  may  say  most  intimately ;  for  during  my  ten  years' 
residence  with  her  sisters,  I  was  received  and  treated,  not  as  a  scholar, 
but  as  a  child  of  her  own,  in  a  confidential  and  al^BCtionate  manner ;  and 
ever  since  the  first  commencement  of  our  acquaintance  the  same  friendly 
intercourse  has  been  kept  up  by  letters  and  visiting.     I  was  living  at 

*  The  widow  of  the  late  Captain  Simmons. 


\66  Tie  Life  of  Mrf .  Hwmah  More. 

'hek'  liister'B  when  Mr.  Turner  paid  his  sddrfsses  to  her ;  for  it  was  owiag 
to  my  cousin  Turner  (whom  my  father  had  placed  at  their  school)  that 
she  became  acquainted  with  Mr.  Turner.  He  always  had  his  cousins, 
the  two  Miss  Turners,  to  spend  their  holidays  with  him,  as  a  most  respect- 
able worthy  lady  managed  and  kept  his  house  for  him.  His  residence  at 
Belmont  was  beautifully  situated,  and  he  had  carriages  and  horses,  and 
every  thing  to  make  a  visit  to  Belmont  agreeable.  He  permitted  his 
cousins  to  ask  any  young  persons  at  the  school  to  spend  their  vacations 
with  them.  Their  governesses  being  nearly  of  their  own  age,  they  made 
choice  of  the  two  youngest  of  the  sisters, — Hannah  and  Patty  More. 
The  consequence  was  natural.  She  was  very  clever  and  fascinating, 
and  he  was  generous  and  sensible ;  he  became  attached,  and  made  bis 
offer,  which  was  accepted.  He  was  a  man  Of  large  fortune,  and  she  was 
young  and  dependent;  she  quitted  her  interest  in  the  concern  of  the 
school,  and  was  at  great  expense  in  preparing  and  fitting  herself  out  to 
be  the  wife  of  a  man  of  large  fortune.  The  day  was  fixed  more  than 
once  for  the  marriage ;  and  Mr.  Turner  each  time  postponed  it.  Her 
sisters  and  friends  interfered,  and  would  not  permit  her  to  be  so  treated 
and  trifled  with.  He  continued  in  the  wish  to  marry  her ;  but  her  friends, 
after  his  former  conduct,  and  on  other  accounts,  persevered  in  keeping 
up  her  determination  not  to  renew  the  engagement. 

"  I  am,  dear  Madam,  8«5.** 

"  In  this  difficulty  (we  borrow  still  from  the  same  authentic  source). 
Sir  James  Stonchonse  was  applied  to  for  his  timely  interposition,  and  his 
assistance  was  promptly  afforded.  In  the  counsel  of  such  a  friend  she 
found  resolution  to  terminate  this  anxious  and  painful  treaty.  The  final 
separation  was  amicably  agreed  upon,  and  the  contracting  parties 
broke  off  their  intercourse  by  mutual  consent.  At  their  last  conversa- 
tion together  Mr.  T.  proposed  to  settle  an  annuity  upon  her,  a  proposal 
which  was  with  dignity  and  firmness  rejected,  and  the  intercourse  ap- 
peared to  be  absolutely  at  an  end.  Let  it  be  recorded,  however,  in  justice 
to  the  memory  of  this  gentleman,  that  his  mind  was  ill  at  ease  till  an 
interview  was  obtained  with  Dr.  Stonehousc,  to  whom  he  declared  his 
intention  to  secure  to  Miss  More,  with  whom  he  had  considered  his 
union  as  certain,  an  annual  sum  which  might  enable  her  to  devote  her- 
self to  her  literary  pursuits,  and  compensate,  in  some  degree,  for  the 
robbery  he  had  committed  upon  her  time.  Dr.  Stonehouse  consulted 
with  the  friends  of  the  parties,  and  the  consultation  terminated  in  a 
common  opinion  that,  all  things  considered,  a  part  of  the  sum  proposed 
might  be  accepted  without  the  sacrifice  of  delicacy  or  propriety,  and  the 
settlement  was  made  without  the  knowledge  of  the  lady.  Dr.  Stonehouse 
consenting  to  become  the  agent  and  trustee.  It  was  not,  however,  till 
some  time  after  the  affair  had  been  thus  concluded,  tliat  the  consent  of 
Miss  More  could  be  obtained  by  the  importunity  of  her  friends. 

**  The  regard  and  respect  of  Mr.  T.  for  Miss  More  was  continued 
through  his  life ;  her  virtues  and  excellencies  were  his  favourite  theme 
among  his  intimate  friends,  and  at  his  death  he  bequeathed  her  a  thousand 
pounds." — vol.  i.  pp.  31 — 34. 

We  have  Quoted  this  long  passage,  because  Hannah  More  has 
not  sojourned  upon  earth  without  provoking  the  "strife  of  tongues." 
"Her  hand  was  once  more  solicited  aud  refused/'  we  are  told,  with 


Tke  Life  qf  Mrs.  Hannah  More,  167 

coDtequeaoes  not  unlike  those  that  followed  the  former  case^  and 
wher^n  her  conduct  presented  that  moral  strength  which  seems  to 
hare  characterised  every  part  of  her  life.  We  like  the  ardour  with 
which  she  passed  from  the  great  world  to  Cowslip  Green  near  Bris- 
tol, where  she  occupied  herself  in  cultivating  her  garden,  with  all 
the  genuine  enthusiasm  of  her  early  years,  when  she  longed  for  ^'  a 
habitation''  too  low  fiur  a  clock  I  Still  it  was  her  fortune  to  mingle 
much  and  dten  with  the  great,  where  her  tongue  became  bold  to 
proclaim  those  principles  which  her  pen  afterwards  so  strongly  and 
successfully  it  may  be  said,  vindicated.  Barley  Wood  was  the  next 
place  of  her  abode,  which  was  also  in  the  vicinity  of  Bristol,  where 
she  long  resided  and  enjoyed  the  choicest  society.  Indeed  it  is  to 
be  lamented,  that  the  world  broke  in  upon  her  from  every  quarter, 
and  that  her  correspondence  was  so  extensive  as  to  take  up  much 
of  her  valuable  time.  Her  removal  in  1828,  to  Cliflon,  the  last 
place  of  her  earthly  habitation,  may  be  considered  to  have  been 
•  coeval  with  the  close  of  her  literary,  active,  and  intellectual  life. 

We  have  not  attempted  to  give  any  thing  like  even  the  slightest 
oontinuoas  outline  of  the  history  of  Hannah  More*9  literary  worka, 
or  of  her  life,  as  laid  before  us  in  these  four  volumes,  which  are 
filled  with  letters  either  to  or  from  her,  and  from  which  the  narrative 
is  to  be  alone  properly  collected;  for  this  would, if  conducted  with  any 
ordinary  degree  of  minuteness,  have  led  us  into  a  length  quite  in- 
consistent with  our  limits.  The  number  of  incidents,  traits,  and 
characters  introduced,  can  only  be  obtained  by  a  perusal  of  the  work 
itself,  which  will  no  doubt  be  popular  with  the  religious  public. 

It  may  be  generally  afErmed  tnat  the  subject  of  this  biography 
met  with  remarkable  success  and  prosperity,  in  a  worldly  point  of 
view,  and  that  she  was  far  from  insensible  to  these  blessings.  In- 
deed, her  moral  character  wa^,  in  all  respects,  one  of  the  most  per- 
fect we  ever  read  of.  It  is  not  a  little  singular,  that  hes  external 
ecmdition  and  physical  powers  were  as  an  index  to  her  imperishable 
Qualities.  Her  eye  to  the  last  grew  not  dim,  her  hearing  was 
httle  impaired,  the  lineaments  of  her  fece  continued  unwrinkled 
nearly  to  the  close  of  life,  and  few  of  the  infirmities  usually  inse- 
parable from  sinking  nature  assailed  her  yet;  she  spent,  almost 
four  score  and  ten  years  in  her  pilgrimage  on  earth.  The  last 
scene  in  which  she  performed  a  part  upon  this  stage  was  of  a  piece 
with  all  that  had  preceded  it : — 

**  The  gradual  dissolution  and  departure  of  this  gentle  ornament  of  her 
sex  shall  be  described  in  the  natural  and  affecting  language  of  the  friend 
who  cheered  and  comforted  her  last  days  and  her  last  hours,  and  counted 
the  last  beat  of  her  pulse.  'During  this  illness  of  ten  months,  the  time 
was  past  in  a  series  of  alternations  between  restlessness  and  composure, 
Icmg  sleeps,  and  long  wakefulness,  with  pccasional  great  excitement, 
elevated  and  sunken  spirits.  At  length,  nature  seemed  to  shrink  from 
further  conflict,  and  the  time  of  her  deliverance  drew  near.  On  Friday, 
the  6th  of  September,  1833,  we  offered  up  the  raomiDg  family  devotion 


1 68  The  Life  of  Mrs.  Hannah  More. 

by  her  bcd-sidc:  she  was  silent,  and  apparently  attentive,  with  her  hands 
devoutly  lifted  up.  From  eight  in  the  evening  of  this  day,  till  nearly 
nine,  I  sat  watching  her.  Her  face  was  smooth  and  glowing.  There 
was  an  unusual  brightness  in  its  expression.  She  smiled,  and  endeavour- 
ing to  raise  herself  a  little  from  her  pillow,  she  reached  out  her  arms  as 
if  catching  at  something,  and  while  making  this  effort,  she  once  called, 
'^  Patty,'  (the  name  of  her  last  and  dearest  sister,)  very  plainly,  and  ex- 
claimed, *  Joy  P  In  this  state  of  quietness  and  inward  peace,  she  remained 
for  about  an  hour.  At  half-past  nine  o'clock,  Dr.  Carrick  came.  The 
pulse  had  become  extremely  quick  and  weak.  At  about  ten,  the  symptoms 
of  speedy  departure  could  not  be  doubted.  She  fell  into  a  dozing  sleep, 
and  slight  convulsions  succeeded,  which  seemed  to  be  attended  with  no 
pain.  She  breathed  softly,  and  looked  serene.  The  pulse  became  fainter 
and  fainter,  and  as  quick  as  lightning.  It  was  almost  extinct  from  twelve 
o'clock,  when  the  whole  frame  was  very  serene.  With  the  exception  of 
a  sigh  or  a  groan,  there  was  nothing  but  the  gentle  breathing  of  infemt 
sleep.  Contrary  to  expectation,  she  survived  the  night.  At  six  o'clodc 
on  Saturday  morning,  I  sent  in  for  Miss  Roberts.  She  lasted  out  till  ten 
minutes  after  one,  when  I  saw  the  last  gentle  breath  escape;  and  one 
more  was  added  *  to  that  multitude  which  no  man  can  number,  who  sing 
the  praises  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb  for  ever  and  ever.' " — ^pp.  310,  311, 
vol.  iv. 

The  able  biographer  concludes  the  work  wbich  is  fall  of  eniter- 
tainment,  and  the  purest  principles,  with  a  fine  passage,  valuable 
alike  for  its  truth,  taste,  and  feeling  ;  which  cannot  but  have  much 
weight  in  recommending  the  whole  to  public  fiivour : — 

**  I  now  commit  the  life  and  correspondence  of  this  Christian  ladv  to 
the  sentence  of  the  great  public,  throughout  which  her  name  and  fame 
may  be  said  to  have  circulated.  That  all  opinions  should  agree  respect- 
ing the  merit  of  one  who  has  so  often  stood  in  strong  opposition  to  pre- 
vailing practices,  could  only  be  expected  by  those  who  in  their  reliance 
on  the  power  of  truth,  and  their  admiration  of  virtue,  have  forgotten  the 
discrepancies  of  temper  and  taste,  the  influence  of  habit  upon  the  judg- 
ment, and  the  enmity  of  the  world  towards  those  who  have  lived  above  it. 
The  value  of  this  record  will  be  variously  estimated.  That  of  her  who 
was  calumniated  in  her  life  time,  the  memory  should  Lc  altogether  spared, 
it  would  be  enthusiasm  or  ignorance  to  expect;  but  to  one  who  bore  her 
faculties  so  meekly,  and  lived  so  much  for  the  common  good,  I  cannot 
but  hope  that  even  the  exercise  of  self-denial,  the  defence  of  practical 
holiness,  and  the  abdication  of  all  hope  of  help  but  in  a  sacrificed  Saviovir, 
will  be  pardoned,  even  by  those  who  hold  a  standard  of  right  and  wrong 
independent  of  the  gospel,  and  find  their  justification  in  a  satisfied  con- 
science. 

**  It  has  been  my  perilous  privilege  to  have  the  task  assigned  me  of  hoM- 
ing  out  this  jjattern  to  imitation.  I  have  attempted  it  with  great  fear  of 
doing  incomplete  justice  to  such  a  character,  hut  with  an  anxiety  for  the 
cause  connected  with  that  character,  which  in  a  crisis  like  the  present 
throws  every  other  consideration  into  comparative  insignificance.  I  con- 
clude my  humble  labour  with  this  final  remark — that  as  it  is  not  meant  to 
be  maintained  that  Hannah  More  was  scripturaliy  or  morally  perfect,  but 
a  sinning  mortal,  dei)ending  on  the  succours  of  Divine  grace;  so  neither 


Alphabet  of  Natural  Theology,  169 

•  * 

is  it  intended  to  represent  her  works' as  faultless;  but  on  the  contrary,  as 
coupling,  with  their  excellence  the  defects  which  belong  to  the  vacillations 
of  genius.  There  will  be  found  in  them  some  redundancies  of  sentiment 
and  language,  some  tautologies,  some  errors  in  grammar,  some  incon- 
gruideb  of  allusion  and  illustration,  and  there  may  be  some  inconsistencies 
m  reasoning ;  to  which  may  be  added,  inadvertencies  imputable  to  her 
habitual  haste  of  composition,  and  her  disadvantageous  distance  from  the 
press.  But  her  mistakes  were,  in  general,  such  as  common  critics  are 
proud  to  discover,  and  uncommon  talents  are  prone  to  commit.  And 
upon  the  whole  it  may  be  questioned  whether  any  one  in  modem  times 
has  lived  so  long  with  less  waste  of  existence,  or  written  so  much  with 
less  abuse  of  ability; — whether  wisdom  has  been  better  consecrated  dr 
religion  better  seconded,  in  this  our  day  at  least,  by  the  pure  and  prudent 
application  of  popular  talents." — ^pp.  397 — 399,  vol.  iv. 

Art.  III. — Alphabet  of  Natural  Theology,  for  the  Use  of  B&ginnert.    By 
James  Rennie,  M.A.     18mo.     London.     Orr  and  Smith.     1834. 

The  announcement  of  an  Alphabet  on  this  profound  theme  sounds 
in  onr  ears  as  not  a  little  strange.  We  are  acquainted  with  similar 
little  rudimental  works  from  the  same  quarter^  on  various  arts  and 
sciences^  all  of  which  contain  a  vast  deal  within  a  very  small  com- 
pasSy  and  arranged  in  such  a  lucid  shape  as  to  prove  that  the 
anthor  is  not  only  master  of  the  most  varied  knowledge,  but  of 
simplicity.  But  the  doctrines  of  Natural  Theology,  which  have 
hitherto  been  treated  in  abstruse  or  bulky  volumes,  to  be  taken  up 
as  one  of  the  femily  of  these  little  Alphabets,  and  addressed  to  the 
capacities  of  beginners,  is,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  a  novel  attempt. 

And  yet,  when  one  thinks  of  the  works  of  creation,  he  cannot  but 
see  that  there  is  much  particularly  suited  to  the  comprehension  and 
engagement  of  the  young  or  unsophisticated  inquirer's  mind,  to  tes- 
tify the  existence  of  a  Creator.  How  much  is  there  of  beauty,  of 
power,  of  goodness,  displayed  in  every  thing  that  meets  the  eye,  or 
arrests  the  reasoning  faculties  !  It  is  a  sweet,  and  uniformly  a  suc- 
cessful employment  for  a  father,  when  in  his  garden,  or  when  tra- 
versing his  fields,  to  point  out  to  his  child  the  evidences  of  a  benefi- 
cent Creator.  Nay,  the  young  mind  is  naturally  curious  and 
inquisitive,  and  questions  with  a  pointedness,  in  a  manner  that 
leads  to  the  direct  merits  of  the  subject.  We  remember  how 
greedily,  while  on  our  knees,  and  leaning  upon  a  mother's  lap,  as 
she  sat  by  a  bed  of  flowers,  on  a  summer  sabbath,  we  would  inter- 
rogate "who  made  the  skies,  and  the  flowers."  We  remember  not 
when  or  how  it  was,  that  she  first  unfolded  to  us  the  marvellous  and 
delightful  truth  to  the  innocent  mind — there  is  a  God  ;  but  sure 
we  are,  from  all  we  can  recollect,  that  it  met  with  an  apt  ear,  and  a 
reliance,  not  only  that  a  parent  spoke  truth,  but  with  an  acquiescence 
so  easy  and  rapid,  as  to  prove  that  the  capacity  was  able,  without  a. 
cavil,  to  take  up  the  theme,  and  to  make  it  our  own.  An  Alphabet 
for  the  use  of  beginners,  on  this  most  important  and  engaging  of  all 
subjects  to  the  unperverted  mind,  is  not,  therefore,  in  so  far  as  the 


1 70  Alphabet  of  Natural  Tkeolagy. 

theme  ito^  is  concerned^  an  unreasonable,  or  merely  ingenious 
attempt. 

There  are,  however,  many  things  to  encounter  by  him  who  endea- 
▼ooTB,  in  a  printed  form,  to  teach  and  elucidate  the  most  apparent 
evidences  of  the  being  and  perfections  of  God.  Atheists  have,  with 
great  plausibility  published  their  doctrines ;  and,  though  truth  has 
a  natural  simplicity  and  charm  over  the  most  cuxming  subtilties  to 
the  young,  yet  the  mind,  as  it  expands,  and  becomes  better  ac- 
quainted with  a  tortuous  world,  can  easily  have  its  ingenuity  per- 
verted, its  natural  and  immediate  dictates  of  reason  supplanted  by 
doubts,  and  all  the  pride  of  the  heart  engaged,  in  showing  off,  as 
being  wiser  than  others,  were  that  wisdoran  othing  more  than  singu- 
larity. Thus  we  have  many  would-be  atheists ;  and  thus  he,  who, 
as  the  author  before  us,  would  teach  the  most  important  and  obvious 
truths,  has  at  the  very  threshold  to  wade  through  many  cunning 
and  ingenious  peiplexities  invented  by  vicious  and  hard-hearted  men, 
and  to  surmount  not  a  little  learned  rubbish.  For  it  is  a  fact,  and  oae 
too  that  may  be  extensively  taken  as  a  guide,  that  truth  is  simple  and 
obvious,  whilst  error  naturally  seeks  perverse  and  dark  ways.  And, 
in  reference  to  the  doctrines  of  Ncttural  Theology,  we  may  lay  it 
down  as  a  safe  rule,  that  when  the  arguments  on  the  one  side  are 
less  intelligible  than  the  evidence  on  the  other,  there  can  be  little 
question  where  the  error  lies. 

But,  besides  those  who  have  wickedly  perverted  evidence  on 
this  mighty  subject,  there  are  not  a  few  avowed  and  zealous  friends 
of  the  truth,  who  have  darkened  it  by  a  multitude  of  words  without 
knowledge,  by  unnecessary  efibrts,  or  untenable  arguments,  betray- 
ing the  inquirer,  who  trusted  to  them,  first  into  confusion,  and  last 
into  confirmed  scepticism.  Our  author,  therefore,  has  thrown  him- 
self into  a  sea  of  trouble,  and  evinced  not  a  little  hardihood  in  un- 
dertaking to  direct  the  ingenous  inquirer  amid  the  rocks  and  the 
breakers  of  such  a  waste. 

Before  we  call  upon  our  readers  to  behold  how  he  has  conducted 
himself  in  this  difficult,  because  perplexed  inquiry,  we  have  a  word 
for  some  of  those  to  whom  it  is  addressed.  Our  foregoing  observa- 
tions refer  chiefly  to  the  young,  but  there  are  others  who  may  justly 
be  called  beginners  in  the  field.  HoW  many  thousands  are  there  in 
our  populous  and  refined  cities,  men,  too,  of  handsome  exterior, 
and  lofty  bearing,  who  are  as  ignorant  as  when  they  were  little  boys 
of  the  subjects  here  discussed!  We  venture  to  affirm,  that  many  a 
man  who  is  wise  in  his  worldly  business,  may  be  found,  who  speaks 
of  God,  too,  very  frequently,  that  yet  cannot  give  a  reason  for  the 
faith  that  is  in  him ;  who  knows  nothing  of  the  character  of  the  Al- 
mighty ;  who,  in  short,  only  believes  in  him  according  to  the  report 
of  the  country.  How  very  irrational  is  all  this!  Pains,  to  excess, 
are  taken  to  oecome  master  of  any  other  subject  of  inquiry ;  but  of 
Him  who  made  man,  and  is  to  judge  man,  there  axe  those  who  never 
spend  an  hour  in  learning  any  thing.     Now  if  we  should  find  that 


Aipkabei  of  Natural  Thtolofy.  171 

thiB  little  half-a-orown  vofaiine  is  well  calculated  to  yield  them  much 
of  that  which  they  so  remarkably  require^  both  in  cnrectly  teachings 
and  in  dexterously  sweeping  awa^  the  flippancies  of  scoffi«»  or  the 
foolishness  of  iiedse  philosophers,  it  will  be  a  still  more  fearful  degree 
of  carelessness  that  hereafter  characterizes  the  ignorant  among  us  oi 
whom  we  speak^  should  they  remain  as  they  are. 

At  the  commencement  of  the  little  volume  we  have  explanations 
of  the  words  Theology^  Deism  and  Deists^  Atheism  and  Atheists^  in 
a  very  clear  and  forcible  shape. 

'•  We  are  indebted  to  the  Greeks,  as  in  many  other  similar  instances, 
for  the  term  Theology,  meaning  literally  '  God-study ;'  which,  though  it 
seems  to  sound  harsh  and  singular,  would  not  probably  have  done  so  had 
it  been  early  introduced  into  our  language  and  rendered  as  familiar  to 
the  ear  as  the  word  'Theology.'  I  shall,  therefore,  only  use  it  here 
as  a  familiar  illustration  of  the  term  derived  from  the  Greek,  having  no 
wish  to  interfere  with  established  and  well-known  terms. 

"  The  branch  of  study  comprehended  under  Theology  has  two  grand 
divisions,  accordinj^  as  it  is  confined  to  the  doctrines  derived  from  biblical 
sources,  termed  *  Kevealed/  or  '  Christian*  Theology ;  or,  as  it  is  confined 
to  facts  and  reasonings  derived  from  examining  the  works  of  creation, 
termed  '  Natural'  Theology.  It  is  the  latter  only  of  which  it  is  proposed  to 
treat  in  tins  Alphabet. 

"  It  may  be  well  to  remark,  however,  that  it  is  not  always  possible  to 
separate  Natural  Theology  from  Christian  Theology,  in  consequence  of 
what  Lord  Bacon  terms  '  Idols  of  the  Den/  or  pecuHar  modes  of  thinking 
produced  by  early  education  and  by  particular  coiurses  of  reading.  From 
these  causes  many  authors,  when  discussing  the  subjects  of  Natural  The- 
ology, reason  unfairly,  inasmuch  as  they  pretend  to  draw  their  materials 
from  the  works  of  creation  ;  whereas  they  indirectly,  and  it  may  be  uncon- 
sciously, derive  certain  notions  of  God  from  the  bible,  and  endeavour  to 
make  their  arguments  from  natural  sources  coincide  with  these  notions.  In 
the  same  way,  it  is  common  to  see  a  theorist  build  up  a  goodly  fabric  of 
fancies,  to  the  support  of  which  he  gathers  all  sorts  of  facts  suited  to  his 
purposed,  embellishing  some,  and  shearing  others  of  their  fair  proportions 
when  they  will  not  square  with  his  views. 

"  In  writing  this  little  book,  I  do  not  pretend  that  I  can  free  myself 
firom  these  '  Idols  of  the  Den,'  among  which  writers  on  Natural  Theology 
often  get  entangled  ;  but  so  far  as  I  shall  be  aware  of  it  myself,  I  shall, 
as  I  go  along,  point  out  the  distinction  to  beginners  by  reference,  in  all 
necessary  cases,  to  texts  of  scripture.  This  will  be  the  more  important, 
from  the  ^t  that  those  who  call  themselves  Deists,  and  who  reject 
Christian  Theology,  most  commonly  borrow  the  best  parts  of  their  creed 
from  the  Bible  without  acknowledging  their  debt,  like  those  who  having 
no  money  of  their  own  live  in  splendour  at  the  expense  of  their  creditors. 

"  Deism  and  Deists. — ^The  words  '  Deism'  and  '  Deist'  are  not,  like 
*  Theology,'  derived  from  the  Greek,  but  from  the  Latin ;  and  may  be 
rendered  more  in  the  Saxon  form  by  '  God-ism'  and  '  God-ist ;'  Deism 
implying  a  belief  in  the  existence  of  God  and  the  ascribing  of  certain  attri- 
butes or  qualities  to  Him  ;  and  Deist,  an  individual  who  believes  in  such 
existence  and  in  such  attributes.  The  deist,  as  has  just  been  mentioned, 
professes  to  derive  all  his  knowledge  of  God  from  the  observation  of  nature, 


172  Alphabet  of  Natural  Theology, 

and  particularly  not  to  depend  upon  the  Bible  for  any  part  thereof,  at 
least,  not  to  consider  the  knowledge  he  thence  obtains  as  of  any  higher 
Buthority  than  that  obtained  from  Cicero,  Confuciae,  or  Mahomet. 

"The  similar  terms  Theism  and  Theist  are  often  used  to  disdnguiah 
a  belief  and  a  believer  in  God,  who  does  not  disbelieve  the  inspiration  of 
the  Bible. 

"  Atheism  and  Atheists, "^Aa  Deism  or  Theism  implies  belief  in  the  exis- 
tence of  God, '  Atheism'  implies  a  disbelief  in  that  existence.  The  whole 
reasoning,  consequently,  of  Natural  Theology  is  directed  against  Atheism, 
and  the  arguments  which  have  been  devised  for  its  support ;  the  arguments 
chiefly  of  certain  philosophical  sects,  and  of  individual  writers  who  have, 
from  time  to  time,  appeared  during  the  last  two  thousand  years,  and  are  not 
wanting  in  the  present  age,  though  the  doctrine  never  has,  and  happily  never 
can  become  popular  or  much  difixtsed,  inasmuch  as,  upon  the  evidence  alone 
of  the  history  of  all  nations,  it  is  altogether  at  variance  with  human  na- 
ture. 

"  Individuals,  who  profess  themselves  to  be  atheists,  are  almost  exclu- 
sively theoretical  philosophers,  such  as  pretend  to  rise  above  what  they 
term  common  prejudices  and  vulgar  belief.  Some  ignorant  persons,  har- 
dened in  crime,  occasionally  pretend  to  disbelieve  in  the  existence  of  God ; 
but  if  they  ever  really  do  so,  which  appears  doubtful,  their  dis^ielief  is 
merely  temporary." — ^pp.  1—4. 

From  the  next  thirty  pages  or  so  we  shall  not  extract  aay  party 
not  because  the  matter  is  less  valuable^  but  because  it  cannot  so  well 
be  understood  unless  taken  as  a  whole.  We  may,  however,  name 
the  points  there  treated  of,  that  the  reader  may  perceive  the  coarse 
our  author  takes.  The  leading  question  is,  what  are  the  ideas  which 
men  have  formed  of  God's  person?  Under  this  the  Biblical  repre- 
sentations are  given ;  next  the  Mythological,  in  various  countries  and 
ages.  The  representations  of  the  Ancient  Philosophers  follow ;  then 
the  refutation  of  Atheistical  inferences.  Last  of  all,  under  the  ge- 
neral head  mentioned,  we  have  the  doctrines  of  Materialism  and 
Spiritualism  shortly  stated.  The  recapitulation  of  the  entire  dis- 
cussion is  in  these  words : — 

"  The  examination  and  analvsis  which  has  been  given  of  the  idea 
of  God,  in  childhood,  in  numhood,  among  philosophers,  poets,  paint- 
ers, statuaries,  as  well  as  the  representations  in  the  Bible  and  of  the 
mythologists  of  all  ages  and  nations — all  lead  to  the  following  uniform 
conclusions. 

''  1.  That  every  thing  connected  with  the  id^  of  God  is  bont>wed 
directly  or  indirectly  from  human  nature,  or  from  some  familiar  object 
on  earth. 

"  2.  That  though  atheists  thence  infer  either  the  non-existence  of  God, 
or  his  possessing  exclusively  a  human  form  and  human  attributes,  their 
inference  is  inadmissible  and  illogical. 

"  3.  That  every  human  conception  formed  of  God  being  figurative, 
and  impossible  to  be  otherwise,  in  the  same  way  as  every  conception 
formed  of  the  soul  of  man  is  figurative,  all  our  ideas  of  God  are  conse- 
quently inadequate,  imperfect,  and  obscure ;  but  it  would  not  follow, 
because  we  ::  ay  see  the  sun  through  the  horizontal  misty  air  shorn  of 


Alphabet  of  NaHtrai  Theology,  173 

•his  beaiiis,  that  therefore  neither  sunbeams  nor  the  sun  itself  have  any 
existence.     Yet, 

*•*  4.  That  these  figurative  and  metaphorical  ideas  formed  of  God  are 
no  proof  whatever  of  the  existence  of  God :  which  rests  upon  other  evi- 
dence, to  be  presently  adduced;  they  only  prove  the  similarity  of  human 
conceptions,  by  consequence  either  of  education  or  of  tradition. 

'*  Having  thus  gone,  with  considerable  fullness  of  detail,  into  the 
analysis  of  the  idea  of  God,  the  way  will  be,  as  I  hope,  rendered  more 
clear  for  proving  the  existence^of  God,  which  atheism  denies,  and  which 
many  philosophers,  not  professedly  atheists,  do  not  at  all  recognise  in 
their  theories  and  systems." — pp.  36,  37. 

The  author  next  enters  directly  upon  the  proofs  of  the  existence 
of  God. 

*'  Although  it  is  not  very  probable  that  any  atheist  was  ever  brought  to 
give  up  or  change  his  ojnnions  by  force  of  argument,  yet  may  arguments 
against  atheism  be  rendered  of  much  use  in  confirming  the  wavering, 
and  still  more  in  leading  the  minds  of  younger  readers  into  a  right  train 
of  thinking  upon  so  momentous  a  subject. 

**  The  proofs  in  question  are  usually  reckoned  to  be  of  two  kinds.  In 
reasoning,  according  to  the  first  mode,  a  cause  is  assumed  as  a  basis,  and 
the  effect  is  inferred  therefrom :  as  if  we  should  assume  that  the  human 
soul  is  destitute  of  parts  and  indivisible,  inferring  from  this,  that  it  can- 
not be  destroyed  and  must  consequently  be  immortal.  In  reasoning 
again,  according  to  the  second  mode,  the  inferences  are  all  made  from 
effects  to  causes,  as  if  we  should  infer  the  indestructibility  of  the  soul 
from  the  fact  of  our  uniform  strong  desire  thereof — ^^  our  longing  after 
immortality,*  taken  in  conjunction  with  the  circumstance  that  means  are 
amply  provided  for  the  gratification  of  all  our  other  desires,  which  indeed 
is  the  only  argument,  apart'  from  revelation,  worthy  of  the  least  notice  in 
proof  of  the  soul's  immortality.*'— p.  38. 

He  begins  with  the  second  of  these  modes  of  reasonings  which  has 
been  so  finely  amplified  by  Paley.  The  author  cannot  do  more  than 
condense  the  arguments  of  his  predecessors  in  the  same  line,  or  en- 
force them  by  tne  most  striking  examples.  And  all  this  he  has 
done  in  an  original  manner^  as  any  one  at  all  conversant  with  the 
arguments  aposteriori,  as  conducted  by  other  writers,  will  at  once 
perceive*  In  proof  of  the  existence  of  an  intelligent  Almighty 
Creator,  design  and  contrivance,  as  displayed  in  Creation^  must  be 
a  sound  ground  to  go  upon.  The  instances  here  given  are  striking 
and  instructive,  at  the  same  time  well  adapted  to  the  scope  of  this 
little  volume.  He  begins  with  the  structure  and  hatching  of  various 
species  of  eggs ;  first  giving  those  of  the  peacock,  the  stork,  the 
goose,  the  eagle,  and  the  crocodile,  which  are  represented  by  wood- 
cuts, as  are  several  others  of  the  illustrations. 

*'  The  contents  of  these  five  eggs  are  exactly  similar,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  a  slight  difference  in  that  of  the  crocodile,  but  sligWb  indeed  com- 
pared with  Uie  difference  of  the  animals  produced  therefrom.  In  looking 
at  the  first  egg,  *  could  imagination,*  to  use  the  words  of  Dr.  Drum- 
mond,   •  ever  conjure  up,  even  in  the  brightest  moments  of  inspired 


174  Alphabet  of  Natural  Theology. 

genius,  the  idea  of  a  peacock  springing  out  of  the  shell ;  yet  the  peacock, 
in  all  the  glory  of  dazzling  colours,  is  the  product  of  a  little  glairy  fluid 
contained  in  a  capsule  of  chalk,  and  in  nowise  different,  so  far  as  we  can 
perceive,  from  what  produces  a  barn-door  fowl.  Has  not  the  hand  of 
Divinity  here  written,  almost  without  a  metaphor,  in  letters  of  gold,  the 
wonders  of  its  creative  power  ?  Look  at  a  single  feather  of  the  peacock ; 
consider  that  its  shining  metallic  barbs,  its  superlatively  beautiful  eye, 
and  all  the  wonders  it  exhibits  of  iridescent,  rich,  and  changeable  hues, 
according  to  the  angle  in  which  it  lies  to  the  light ;  that  its  form,  its 
solidity,  its  flexibility,  its  strength,  its  lightness,  and  all  its  wonders  (for 
in  the  eye  of  intelligence  every  part  of  it  is  a  wonder),  had  their  origin 
in  a  little  mucilage ;  and  then  consider  whether,  in  looking  on  such  an 
object,  we  should  be  content  with  thinking  no  more  about  it  than  simply 
that  it  is  a  peacock's  feather.  Yet  this  is  too  much  the  practice.  Above 
us,  and  below ;  on  the  right  side,  and  on  the  left ;  in  every  element,'  in 
every  situation,  the  works  of  Almighty  Power  are  present,  and  all  abound* 
in^  hi  instruction  of  the  highest  kind ;  and  that  they  make  not  the  im- 
pressions they  should  do  upon  us  is  chiefly  owing  to  the  extraordinary 
anomaly,  that  natural  history  forms  no  necessary  part  of  the  education  of 
young  or  old.  Bnt  if  a  single  feather  be  so  wonderful  a  production,  what 
are  we  to  think  of  the  entire  bird.' 

'*  And  what  are  we  to  think,  I  may  add,  of  the  wonderful  difierence 
between  two  birds,  a  peacock  and  a  pea-hen,  produced  from  eg^  so  like 
that  the  eye  cannot  distinguish  them  ?  Yet  the  peacock  is  furnish^  with 
a  magnificent  and  gorgeous  tail,  while  the  pea-hen  is  arrayed  in  plain  and 
imobtrusive  colours. 

'*  The  second  egg^  which  is  not  quite  so  much  bulged  out  at  the  larger 
end,  and  is  rather  paler  in  colour,  produces  the  common  stork,  a  bird  very 
different  indeed  in  form  and  in  colour  from  the  peacock.  It  is  all  white 
except  the  wings,  which  are  black,  and  while  the  peacock's  tail  when 
expanded  would  entirely  cover  the  st<^,  the  latter  has  a  very  short  tail, 
but  its  legs  are  twice  as  long  as  those  of  the  peacock.  The  stork  abb 
feeds  on  frogs  and  garbage,  while  the  peacock  lives  chiefly  on  grain,  and 
in  a  wild  state  on  pepper. 

"  The  third  egg^  which  is  rather  less  taper  at  the  small  end  than  that  of 
the  stork,  and  at  the  same  time  whiter,  produces  the  common  goose ;  while 
the  fourth  egg  produces  the  common  eagle  of  this  country,  distinguished 
when  full  grown  by  its  white  tail.  No  two  birds  could  differ  more  than 
the  goose  and  the  eagle  in  their  dispositions  and  mode  of  life,  even  from 
the  very  time  they  are  hatched.  The  young  gosling,  the  moment  it  is 
out  of  the  egg,  can  run  about  and  feed  itself  with  the  utmost  ease  and 
agility ;  while  the  young  eaglet  is  blind  and  helpless,  and  must  be  fed  for 
many  days  by  its  parents.  The  gosling  will  plunge  fearlessly  into  the  first 
water  it  sees,  and  will  swim  about  as  dextrously  as  its  dam,  but  if  an 
eaglet  were  put  into  a  pond  it  would  inevitably  be  drowned.  The  goose 
feeds  on  grass,  while  the  eagle  would  starve  rather  than  swallow  a  mouth- 
ful of  it :  Spallanzani  could  not  even  by  any  art  compel  an  eagle  to  taste 
bread,  though  a  goose  would  consider  this  the  greatest  dainty  it  could 
have.  Yet  the  egg  of  the  goose  is  very  similar  in  all  respects  to  the  egg 
of  the  eaglo,  and  their  slight  difference  would  not  be  readily  detected 
except  by  a  naturalist  who  had  paid  attention  to  the  subject. 


Aipkabet  of  Nuiurml  7%eohgy.  175 

**  The  ftfth  egg,  which  produoes  a  crocodik,  though  noKrl j  of  the  nine 
size  as  the  other  four,  differs  from  them  all  ui«a  few  partiniiBrs;,  which, 
however,  se^n  of  too  small  importance,  so  far  as  exteraal  aspect  goes,  to 
indicate  the  extraordinary  difference  of  the  refid\e  from  the  birds.  *  An 
egg  of  a  crocodile  of  fourteen  feet  long,'  saya  Count  Lacepede,  *  killed 
in  Upper  Egypt  in  the  act  of  laying,  ia  preserved  in  the  dibtnei  Royaie 
at  Paris.  It  is  whitish  and  of  an  creal  fiffiure,  covered  by  a  shell  similar 
to  that  of  a  pullet's  egg,  not  quite  so  hard,  but  the  film  or  membrane 
lining  the  shell  is  thicker  and  stronger.  The  long  diameter  is  two  inches 
five  lines,  and  the  short  diameter  one  inch  eleven  lines.'  There  is  within 
the  eg%  a  yolk  and  a  white,  as  in  the  eggs  of  birds;  and  *  if  broken  into 
a  bowl,'  says  Dr.  Drummond>  *  no  eye  could  perceive  the  difference.' 

^  The  young  crocodile,  like  the  gosling,  takes  to  the  first  water  it  can 
find ;  but^  instead  of  living  like  the  fowl,  on  plain  vegetable  diet,  it  preys 
upon  every  living  thing  which  it  can  master  and  devour.  Though  the 
crocodile's  e^^  also,  as  we  have  just  seen  from  Lacepede,  is  similar  in 
size  to  that  of  the  goose  Tsome  are  said  by  M.  Bory  de  St.  Vincent  to  be 
twice  as  large)  the  crocoaile  hatched  from  it  often  grows  five  times  the 
length  of  a  man,  with  a  body  as  thick  as  that  of  a  horse,  and  consequently 
many  times  the  size  of  any  of  the  birds  produced  fix>m  the  other  four 
eggs."— pp.  41— 44. 

Now  can  any  one  not  viciously  prejudiced  beKeve,  that  since  the 
eggs  of  the  same  animal  unifiormly  produce  the  exact  same  creatutes, 
that  all  this  is  the  effect  of  chance  ?  As  the  author  says^  it  seems 
unavoidably  to  lead  us  to  Paley*8  conclusion,  that  '*  upon  the  whole, 
after  all  the  schemes  and  struggles  of  a  reluctant  philosophy,  the 
necessary  resort  is  to  a  Deity.  The  marks  of  design  are  too  strong 
to  be  gotten  over.  Design  must  have  had  a  designer;  that  designer 
must  have  been  a  person ;  that  person  is  God." 

There  was,  and  still  is,  a  most  unphilosophical  and  unwarrantable 
doctrine,  that  th^e  ifi  such  a  thing  as  spontaneous  exist^ioe.  And 
how  did  the  error  originate  ?  In  a  way  no  less  inexcusable  than 
dangerous ;  and  that  was,  since  we  did  not  see  how  insects  and  mi«- 
croecopic  animalcules  were  generated,  to  believe  they  were  produced 
by  some  mysterious  chemistry,  that  precluded  the  necessity  of  any 
reference  to  an  intelligent  designer. 

"  The  atheistical  doctrine  of  spontaneous  generation,  so  far  as  it  was 
thought  to  be  supported  upon  the  apparent  reproduction,  without  parents, 
of  microscopic  animalcules,  seems  to  have  received  a  death-blow  from  the 
recent  discoveries  of  M.  Ehrenberg,  of  Berlin.  The  late  Baron  Cuvier, 
previously  a  believer  in  the  spontaneous  generation  of  these  animalcules, 
with  a  candour  worthy  of  his  high  reputation,  avowed  that  Ehrenberg^s 
'discovery  entirely  changes  received  opinions,  and  demolishes  many 
systems.' 

**  All  previous  microscopic  observers  had  been  foiled  in  their  investi- 
gations of  the  interior  structure  of  these  minute  creatures,  by  the  tran- 
sparency, and  consequently  the  apparent  uniformity  of  conformation  in 
them.  M.  Ehrenberg  got  over  this  difficulty  by  colouring  with  indigo 
and  carmine  the  water  where  the  animalcules,  which  he  was  investigating, 
lived.     The  colouring  matter  was  by  these  means  introduced  into  the 


1 76  Aiphabet  of  Natural  Tkeology, 

bodies  of  the  animalcules,  and  thus  rendered  obvious  their  several  organs, 
,  previously  transparent  and  uniform  in  appearance. 

"  By  this  method  not  only  have  the  organs  of  reproduction  been  dis- 
covered in  animalcules  invisible  to  the  naked  eye,  but  the  eggs  themselves, 
as  they  lie  in  the  egg-organ  before  laying.  So  far  as  M.  Ehrenberg  has 
been  able  to  ascertain,  each  of  these  animals  is,  like  the  snail  and  the 
leechi  of  both  sexes;  and. in  some  the  eggs  appear,  as  in  the  case  of  the 
grey  flesh-fly,  to  be  hatched  within  the  body  of  the  parent,  and  brought 
forth  alive." — ^p.  54. 

Such  is  a  specimen  of  what  this  little  work  says  on  the  arguments 
for  the  being  of  an  Almighty  God.  The  author  next  takes  up  the 
speculative  arguments  for  and  against  the  doctrines  he  espouses^ 
and  treats,  as  we  think,  properly,  the  exertions  of  the  great  cham- 

Sion  of  a  priori  proo^,  Dr.  Samuel  Clark,  as  little  better  than  a 
isplay  of  metaphysical  ingenuity^  which  never  can  make  any  one 
believe  in  the  existence  and  attributes  of  God,  who  doubted  before 
reading  his  profound,  and  often  unintelligible  work.  But  we  must 
here  refer  to  our  author's  little  book,  for  any  insight  into  those  ab- 
struse discussions,  which  he  has  handled  with  an  unsparing  hand. 

We  now  go  forward  to  the  short  chapters  on  the  Attributes  of 
Deity,  and  here  shall  do  little  more  than  quote  a  few  passages. 

"  The  word  'Attribute,'  as  applied  to  God, means  whatever  is  afiirmed 
or  said  of  God ;  and  consequently  a  great  part  of  the  preceding  pages 
relates  to  this  very  subject;  such,  for  example,  as  the  discussion  on  spiri- 
tuality and  on  wisdom,  or  design  manifested  in  the  works  of  creation; 
both  spirituality  and  wisdom  being  attributes  of  God,  very  generally 
acknowledged.  But  it  will  be  proper  to  enter  more  fully  into  the  con- 
sideration of  the  Divine  Attributes,  the  subject  forming  one  of  the  largest 
branches  of  natural  Theology.  At  the  outset  of  the  discussion,  however, 
let  us  first  endeavour  to  g^ard  against  certain  impressions  and  thoughts 
that  are  apt  to  gain  upon  our  minds  when  directed  to  this  profound  inves- 
tigation, owing  to  the  finite  nature  of  our  capacities,  and  the  inadequacy 
of  human  language  to  speak  of  any  thing,  but  by  referring  ever^  image 
to  sensible  objects,  or  borrowing  from  the  same  source.  God  is  to  us 
incomprehensible;  and  the  man  of  thought  and  devotion  will  always  be 
^rticularly  careful,  either  when  speaking  or  meditating  respecting  his 
Creator,  not  to  allow  himself  to  form  even  a  mental  image  of  him.  For 
such  a  man  knows  that  God  is  not  visible  or  material,  and  can  only  be 
'spoken  of  and  described  by  saying  what  he  is  not,  and  never  by  what  he 
is;  or  at  other  times,  though  most  inadequately,  by  the  use  of  superlative 
words  raised  on  such  positive  terms,  as  are  employed  to  express  the 
highest  excellencies  found  among  men.  God  has  no  equal,  and  to  him, 
therefore,  nothing  can  be  compared.  When  men  think,  they  comprehend, 
argue,  conclude  and  demonstrate  fully  on  such  themes  as  the  being  and 
attributes  of  Deity,  they  deceive  themselves.^  Even  the  pronoun  He^  as 
applied  to  God,  can  only  be  excused  for  want  of  a  better  appellative;  and 
It  will  ever  be  uttered  by  a  man  of  rightly  constituted  principles,  with 
this  conviction  fully  impressed  upon  his  mind.  Let  us  try  the  particular 
term,  *  Infinite,'  which  is  often  applied  to  Deity.  It  is,  mdeed,  only  by 
such  an  adjective  that  we  can  convey  what  we  intend,  either  when  speak- 


AlpMet  6/ NtOural  Theology,  177 

iog  of  his  cxiBtonce  dr  of  any  of  hw  altribut&s.  1%  is  projper,  therefore, 
that  we  have  an  undeiBlanding  of  that  which  we  mean  by  \U  use. 

"  Are  we,  therefore,  under  this  conviction  of  our  inadequacy  to  ^thom 
the  attributes,  the  essential  and  moral  character  of  God,  to  sit  down  in 
despur  and  banish  from  our  contemplations  the  source  of  all  greatness, 
wisdom,  and  goodness?  By  no  means;  f6r  as  regards  our  Creator,  there 
is  a  field  for  inTestigation,  ample  and  fertile  enough,  on  which  the  richest 
mind  may  expatiate,  with  endless  profit  to  himself.  EVen  the  simplest 
and  most  unlettered  at  once  detects  numberless  facts  that  lead  to  the 
loftiest  and  most  instructive  conclusions.  So  that  while  God,  as  r^ards 
botb  his  being  and  attributes,  is  incomprehensible  by  man,  yet  these 
things  are  capable  of  being  demonstrated  to  man:  for  'the  invisible 
things  of  Him,  from  the  creation  of  the  world,  are  clearly  seen,  being 
understood  by  the  things  that  are  made,  even  his  eternal  power  and  God- 
head/ It  is  still  true  that  we  can  form  no  direct  conception  whatever  of 
infinity;  but  it  i9  plain,  that  a  belief  in  the  existence  of  an  intelligent  and 
supreme  first  cause  implies  that  he  is  self-existent,  which  necessarily  leads 
to  a  conviction  of  his  eternity,  and  indeed  of  his  infinity  in  respect  of  every 
attribute,  as  much  as  of  his  duration.  Infinity  of  duration  or  eternity 
cannot  be  comprehended  by  us,  but  in  this  way  it  is  capable  of  being 
metaphysically  proved.  Moreover,  this  can  be  done,  it  can  satisfactorily 
be  made  out,  that  God  is  not  finite  in  respect  of  any  one  attribute,  but  sur- 
passes all  conceivable  perfection,  as  every  one  who  turns  his  thoughts  to 
the  subject  will  perceive. 

^*  There  is  no  doubt  that  the  power  displayed  in  the  act  of  creating,  not 
only  exceeds  all  finite  comprehension,  but  is  plainly  so  great  as  to  exclude 
every  rational  limitation;  and  when  coniemplating  such  power,  no  wise 
man  ever  attempts  or  pretends  to  form  any  estimate  of  its  extent,  but  is 
lost  and  candidly  calls  it  infinite.  For  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  suppose 
that  such  a  power  cannot  do  any  thing,  and  every  thing,  which  does  not 
involve  a  contradiction. 

**  It  is  also  to  be  borne  in  mind,  that  man  is  naturally  fitted,  by  the  very 
constitution  of  his  mind,  for  acquiring  certain  notions  concerning  the 
existence  of  Invisible  and  superior  beings ;  concerning  their  attributes 
and  their  influence  on  human  life.  Consciousness  and  feeling  give  a  man 
a  conviction,  that  there  is  something  within  himself  of  a  higher  order  than 
the  matter  of  which  his  body  is  composed ;  something  which  cannot  be 
seen,  because  it  is  not  material,  and  which  he  calls  spirit,  the  very  word 
used  when  we  would  describe  what  is  termed  the  essence  of  Grod.  Man 
infers  the  existence,  powers,,  and  character  of  this  unseen  something  from 
its  effects*  He  concludes  the  same  thing  of  the  spirits  or  minds  of  other 
men;  and  in  like  manner  this  very  same  thing  is  also  concluded  of  God. 
The  terms  Infinity,  eternity,  and  spirituality,  may  be  dark,  or  when  we 
are  driven  to  affix  a  meaning  to  them,  may  be  admitted  to  be  unintelli- 
gible, but  the  character  of  one  intelligent  being  is  susceptible  of  evidence 
from  experience  by  another  intelligent  being,  between  whom  certain 
relations  exist ;  especially  the  Intelligence  who  made  man's  mind  is  an 
object  suited  to  the  inquiry  of  tha^  mind.  There  may  be  a  moral  evidence, 
accompanied  by  as  strong  and  firm  a  conviction  of  the  mind  as  any  mathe- 
matical demonstration  ever  was.  No  man  can  feel  himself  more  certain 
that  a  part  is  not  equal  to  the  whole,  than  that  he  was  alive  yesterday. 

VOL.  in.  (1834.)  NO.  ic.  o 


178  Alphabet  of  Natural  Theology. 

Indeed  this  moral  conviction  is  as  much  stronger  than  many  founded  on 
scientific  demonstration,  as  a  yast  excess  of  evidence  can  produce." — 
pp.  92—98. 

One  other  extract  must  brinff  us  to  a  close ;  it  comes  within  the 
discussion  of  the  proo6  of  Goa's  benevolence. 

**  It  is  asked,  if  there  be  an  intelligent  and  henevolent  Creator  of  all 
things,  how  comes  evil  to  exist  in  the  world  ?  This  has  been  attempted 
to  be  explained  in  three  different  ways.  Some  say,  God  could  not  prevent 
men  from  sinning.  To  this  I  answer,  the  assertion  cannot  be  proved. 
There  may  be  orders  of  beings  among  whom  sin  never  entered ;  and  if 
He  prevented  it  among  such,  how  do  we  know  it  could  not  be  universally 
prevented  ?  Others  maintain,  that  God  creates,  by  an  immediate  agency 
of  his  own,  the  sinful  volitions  of  mankind.  Now  this  is  one  of  the  most 
distressing  and  frightful  conclusions  our  minds  can  form,  and,  until 
proved,  must  not  be  admitted. 

'*  The  metaphysical  nature  of  laonX  agency,  both  in  God  and  bis  crea- 
tures, is  a  subject  as  difficult  and  subtle  as  any  in  the  whole  course  of 
human  investigation.  But  to  come  to  the  point:  the  existence  of  evil 
does  not  establish  to  my  conviction  that  God  is  its  efficient  cause;  though 
I  do  not  see  why  He  might  not  with  perfect  benevolence  create  such 
moral  beings,  as,  left  to  their  own  free  agency,  yielded  to  temptations  and 
sin.  Temptations  seem  necessarily  to  exist  in  an  abundance  of  good. 
The  good,  for  instance,  which  belongs  to  others  may  be  coveted;  nor  do 
I  see  that  God,  by  his  moral  peifections,  is  to  prevent  evil  originating  in 
this  way. 

*'  A  third  class  argue,  and  as  it  appears  more  soundly,  that  God  only 
permits  sin  to  exist.  There  certainly  is  a  wide  difference  between  per- 
mitting or  not  hindering,  and  creating.  In  the  former  case,  he  is  sup- 
posed to  create  beings  possessed  of  the  full  power  to  originate  any  moitd 
action,  in  the  latter  he  created  their  apostacy.  Now  it  seems  as  easy  to 
understand  that  man  is  an  agent,  as  that  God  is  an  agent.  If  so,  where 
is  the  necessity  for  going  beyond  man  for  the  origin  of  his  actions  ?  But 
it  may  be  urged,  that  a  peifectly  benevolent  Creator  cannot  fail  to  act 
so  as  to  produce  the  greatest  good.  Can  it  be  proved,  that  the  greatest 
possible  good  will  not  be  found  in  a  system  where  evil  has  had  an  en- 
trance. Not  knowing  the  progress  and  the  end  of  evil,  of  the  minds  that 
are  subject  to  it,  nor  of  any  one  thing,  we  cannot  tell  what  may  produce 
the  greatest  good  to  the  intelligent  world ;  nor  how  far  the  sinfulness 
and  punishments  of  some  moral  agents  may  go  to  the  standing  and  the 
enjoyment  of  the  great  body. 

"The  restless  and  inquisive  mind  still  asks  why  did  God  suffer  such  a 
distressing  thing  as  sin  to  exist  ?  It  is  answered,  that  it  is  more  than 
probable,  that  the  present  is  but  a  state  of  trial,  and  not  the  whole  of 
man's  existence.  Now  a  state  of  trial  supposes  a  capability  of  erring, 
and  cannot  be  without  it.  Where  is  there  any  ground  for  maintaining 
that  a  benevolent  God  is  obliged  to  prevent  it  ?  If  free  agents  are  re- 
warded for  obedience  with  happiness,  as  long  as  they  are  obedient, 
•perfect  goodne^  can  ask  or  give  no  more ;  and  that  benevolence  may 
propose  such  a  reward,  appears  a  natural  dictate  of  reason.  It  appears, 
.therefore,  that  whilst  there  is  no  complete  argument  against  God's  being 
possessed  of  this  attribute,  gathered  from  the  existence  of  evil,  there  are 


Alphabet  of  Natural  Theology.  1 79 

many  direct  proofs  even  hero,  in  behalf  of  the  doctrine  urged.  For, 
marie,  how  many  blessings  are  bestowed  on  sinful  beings ;  the  highest 
-exercise  of  benevolence  we  can  imagine.  Nay,  the  best  men  are  those, 
of  aU  others,  that  most  fully  and  cordially  acknowledge  their  unworthi- 
ness.     Infants,  it  may  be  objected,  suffer  beyond  their  deserts.     Here 

r'n  is  an  assertion  without  any  proofs.  We  know  not  the  moral  state 
mind  with  which  we  can  hold  no  communication.  Whilst  one  thing 
is  manifest,  that  every  child,  the  instant  its  moral  feelings  are  under- 
stood, proves  itself  to  be  sinful. 

^'  May  not  the  truth  be,  that  evil  is  a  necessary  part  of  the  most  bene- 
volent system  of  dispensation  towards  moral  beings?  As  things  are 
constituted,  many  things  we  call  evils  in  this  life  are  absolutely  necessary. 
What  causes  corruption  and  death,  is,  in  many  cases,  the  means  or  the 
avenues  of  life  and  death.  Pain  and  sickness  are  often'  the  beacons  that 
guard  us  from  destruction.     Good  men  universallv  acknowledge  that  | 

their  afflictions  are  conducive  to  their  welfare.  Ana  were  we  careful  to 
separate  the  evils  caused  directly  by  God  from  those  produced  by  man, 
we  should  be  astonished  at  the  smallness  of  the  number  chargeable 
against  the  former.  Man,  probably,  either  originates  or  increases  every 
evil  of  this  life.  The  truth  appears  strikingly  to  stand  thus :  that  so 
long  as  we  are  confined  to  the  light  of  nature  and  reason  only,  we  are  in 
such  uncertainty  as  to  the  future  existence  and  state  of  the  thinking  sen> 
tient  principle  of  man,  that  we  cannot  come  to  a  full  understanding  on 
this  matter,  neither  perhaps  are  our  minds,  as  at  present  constituted, 
capable  of  entertaining  all  the  bearings  of  the  truth  on  this  subject: — 
for,  surely,  there  may  be  truths  we  cannot  grasp.  But  still  to  me  it  is 
clear,  that  whilst  no  solid  argument  can  be  found,  even  from  the  exis- 
tence of  evil,  by  which  we  can  be  led  to  doubt  or  impugn  the  benevolence 
of  Deity,  there  are  many  and  cogent  ones  that  go  directly  to  establish 
the  attribute  in  a  way  highly  consolatory, — ;!  would  add,  beautiful;  and 
when  His  justice  and  truth  are  considered,  we  shall  more  fully  behold 
how  venersJ}le  and  awful  His  goodness  becomes." — ^pp.  109 — 112. 

We  think  it  is  not  the  least  recommendation  of  this  little  work, 
that  it  leads  the  inquirer  to  revelation  as  the  only  sure  and  complete 
Booroe  of  a  knowledge  of  God:  for,  while  the  author  has  brought 
together  a  vast  deal  of  information,  hitherto  scattered  over  many 
volmnes,  brides  throwing  out  .many  ingenious  views  from  his  own 
stores^  we  are  uniformly  directed  by  him  to  observe  how  uncertain 
and  short  our  unassisted  reason  must  ever  continue  in  tihs  field. 
Were  his  reasonings  unsound  in  themselves,  there  could  little  injury 
ensue  frora  them,  since  he  constantly  states,  that  whatever  may  be 
his  speculations,  the  inquirer  must  think  for  himself,  and  alone  can 
find  the  whole  truth  in  that  book  that  contains  the  Gospel.  But 
this  Alphabet  deserves  much  better  than  a  negative  approval ;  for 
its  contents  are  as  valuable  as  the  attempt  is  novel,  or  as  the  labour 
must  have  b^n  great  in  its  execution.  We  heartily  recommend  it 
to  banners  in  the  study  of  Theology ;  nor  will  the  weU-informed 
rise  from  its  perusal  without  benefit. 


o2 


n 


180 

AaT.  IV.— TA^  Principles  of  Physiology  ppplied  to  the  PreservaHon  of 
Healthy  ami  to  the  Imprwement  of  Physical  and  Mental  EdueaHon, 
By  Andrew  Combe,  M.  D.,  F.  R.  CoU.  Bdin.     London:   Longman 
and  Go.    1634. 

Perhaps  it  is  sometimes  to  be  charged  against  us^  that  out  of  a 
mass  of  new  works,  which  usually  loads  our  table,  the  larger  tomes 
are  first  taken  up,  in  preference  to  the  smaller.  This  intimates  that 
we  are  not  unmoved  by  the  mere  pretensions,  too  often  however 
false,  that  prevail  in  the  world.  It  is  yet  not  an  unnatural  thing  to 
suppose  that  size  should,  to  a  certain  degree,  indicate  the  amount 
of  sense  contained  in  a  book ;  but  the  presumpti<xi  is  frequently 
severely  chastised,  nor  has  it  fiedlen  to  our  lot  to  find  the  lesson  ^ 
reproof  mare  signally  enforced,  thon  by  Dr.  Combe's  seven  shilling 
volume,  now  before  us.  We  take  blame  to  ourselves  for  not,  at  on 
earlier  date,  having  lent  our  aid  to  spread  its  ccmtaits  and  worth 
among  our  readers ;  and  indeed  regret  that  we  should  have  so  laag 
denied  ourselves  the  instruction  with  whieh  every  page  of  the  worK 
abounds.  There  is  one  consolation,  however,  in  our  delay,  that 
now  we  have  a  second  edition  of  the  book  corrected  and  enlarged ; 
the  last  chapter  on  a  subject  of  the  greatest  importance,  being  en- 
tirely new. 

We  shall  have  occasion  as  we  go  carefully  through  the  volume 
to  present  our  readers  with  many  striking  facta  and  doctrines.  In 
the  mean-while  we  may  mention  some  of  the  principal  features  of 
the  performance,  that  we  may  be  the  more  fully  understood  in 
what  follows. 

Physiology,  according  to  its  etymological  import,  signifies  a  dis- 
course on  nature ;  but  it  is  usually  employed  in  a  more  limited  sense, 
to  denote  the  science  which  treats  of  uie  powers  that  actuate  the 
component  parts  of  living  animal  bodies,  and  <rf  the  fimctions  which 
those  bodies  execute.  It  presui^K)ses,  therefore,  a  knowledge  of 
the  structure  of  the  body,  which  is  the  object  of  anatomy ;  and  this 
is  conversant  with  the  dead,  whilst  the  other  is  conversant  with  the 
living  body.  The  one  may  therefore  be  called  the  science  of  or- 
ganization, the  other  of  life.  The  general  source  of  our  physiologi- 
cal knowledge  of  the  human  body  is  an  observation  of  its  actions  in 
all  the  various  states  compreh^ided  under  the  t^ms  hecUth  and 
disease.  The  science  requires  a  comparison  to  be  made  of  the 
structure  and  fonctions  of  animals  in  all  classes  of  the  animal  king- 
dom. At  the  same  time  a  knowledge  c^  chemistry  is  indispensable 
to  the  physiologist,  in  unfolding  the  structure  of  the  body,  as  for 
instance,  in  the  subjects  of  respiraticm,  perspiration,  and  the  se- 
cretions. 

Physiology,  in  the  sense  we  are  limiting  it  to,  is  still  an  imperfect 
science,  especially  as  regards  the  internal  actions  and  functions  of 
the  human  body.  Although  comparative  anatomy,  and  many  cruel 
experiments  upon  the  lower  animals,  have  enlarged  our  knowledge 


The  Principles  of  Phymloffy.  181 

iar  bevond  what  the  access  had  to  the  human  frame  could  lead  to. 
Yet  what  seems  inexcusable — the  knowledge  that  is  possessed  of 
the  science  has  never  in  this  country  been  systematically  applied^ 
in  our  great  public  schools  of  medicine^  as  the  proper  basis^  not  only 
of  a  sound  physical,  but  of  a  sound  moral  and  intellectual  education. 
*'  The  practical  importance,"  says  Dr.  Combe,  "  of  physiological 
knowledge  in  the  training  and  education  of  the  young  has  been  over- 
looked chiefly,  I  think,  from  the  unnatural  separation  of  the  difier- 
ent  branches  of  medical  science  from  each  other  by  its  cultivators 
and  teachers,  and  the  excessive  devotion  of  each  to  his  own  favourite 
department.  The  anatomist,  for  example,  teaches  structure  and 
structure  only,  and  refers  to  the  physiologist  for  an  lu^count  of  the 
uses  to  which  it  is  subservient ;  and  the  physiologist,  on  the  other 
hand,  expounds  functions,  but  scarcely  touches  upon  the  instruments 
by  which  they  are  executed."  "  They  err,  in  short,  in  limiting 
themselves  too  exclusively  to  theiif  own  particular  pursuits,  and  de- 
voting too  little  attention  to  the  relations  which  these  bear  to  each 
other,  and  the  great  unit,  the  living  being,  of  which  they  form  a 

Ert."  The  young  practitioner  has,  therefore,  to  work  out  his  own 
owledge  in  this  department,  and  after  many  errors  it  may  be, 
because  it  was  not  a  prominent  feature  in  his  elementary  education. 
He  has  not  been  made  sufficiently  familiar  with  the  conditions  on 
which  the  healthy  action  of  the  animal  economy  depends,  and  is  more 
skiUed  in  the  means  of  recovery  than  oi preservation.  Dr.  Combe 
has,  however,  besides  throwing  much  light  on  the  subject,  shed  it 
in  such  a  manner,  that  it  must  lead  to  other  exertions  in  the  same 
tine,  and,  ere  long,  to  rescue  it  from  the  uncertain  and  unsystematic 
acquirements  of  individuals.  The  talent  and  ingenuity  displayed 
bv  him  are  not  more  conspicuous,  than  is  the  sound  sense  of  his 
views,  or  the  plain  manner  in  which  they  are  unfolded.  Beyond 
these  things,  the  fine  feeling,  the  humane  purposes,  the  religious 
spirit  of  the  whole  volume,  lend  to  it  a  charm,  which  must  carry 
it  into  many  a  family,  and  render  it  a  favourite  with  every  class  of 
society. 

Many  people  question,  and  we  think  justly,  the  uses  of  popular 
works  on  medicine  and  disease ;  because  in  unprofessional  hands 
they  do  a  great  deal  more  injury  than  good.  But  the  tendency  of 
Dr.  Combe's  treatise  is  totally  different  from  those  we  have  in  our 
eye ;  and  were  it  to  take  the  place  of  Buchan's  Domestic  Medi- 
cine ha  every  house  in  the  land,  we  are  fully  persuaded  the  exchange 
would  be  of  a  vast  and  immediate  benefit  to  the  community.  Me- 
dicinal art  has  a  double  scope :  that  of  the  preservation  of  the  sound, 
and  the  restoration  of  the  sick.  To  the  healthy  it  offers  a  continu- 
ance of  health,  to  the  sick  it  holds  out  recovery ;  nor  does  it  rejoice 
less  in  nature's  prosperity,  than  it  is  subsidiary  in  her  adversity. 
Our  author  directs  himself  in  a  popular  way  to  the  former,  and  cer- 
tainly the  most^  effectual  branch.  Instead  of  attempting  to  instruct 
every  plain  unprofessional  man  how  to  doctor  himself  when  under 


182  THe  Principles  of  Phytiolagy. 

disease^  he  shows  iu  the  most  winning  manner  how  every  man  may 
provide  against  disease,  and  the  frequent  use  of  any  doctor.  And 
not  by  any  charm,  nostrum,  or  quacKery,  but  on  the  most  rational 
and  apparent  grounds.  Neither  does  our  author,  although  related 
by  the  ties  of  blood  to  a  celebrated  Phrenologist  of  the  same  name, 
introduce  any  doctrine  regarding  the  functions  of  any  part  of  the 
body,  inconsistent  with  what  the  most  eminent  Anatomists  and 
Physiologists  in  past  or  present  times  have  taught. 

Dr.  Combe  wdl  declares,  that  the  all-wise  Creator  has  established 
organic  laws,  the  observance  of  which  is  as  indispensable  to  long 
life  and  sound  bodily  health,  as  the  observance  of  moral  laws  is  to 
the  rewards  of  virtue.  As  an  old  author  quaintly  observes, ''  this 
body  being  in  a  continual  flux  and  reflux,  conversant  in  vicissitudes, 
as  heat  and  cold,  dryness  and  humidity,  filling  and  emptying,  rest 
and  motion,  sleeping  and  waking,  inspiration  and  expu*ation,  and 
the  like,  could  not  subsist,  if  they  were  not  regulated  by  order  of 
succession,  to  convenient  times,  that  they  may  not  encroach  upon 
each  other's  privileges.**  There  is  a  rule,  therefore,  proportion, 
measure,  and  season  to  be  observed,  in  all  the  requisites,  supports' 
and  helps  belonging  to  our  preservation.  The  thwarting  and  cross- 
ing of  Nature  in  any  thing  she  hath  enjoined,  either  in  the  substance 
or  circumstance,  is  violence  offered  to  her.  She  not  only  commands 
what  is  to  be  done,  but  when,  how  much,  how  long,  after  what 
manner,  and  in  what  order — the  modifications,  circumstances,  and 
requisite  qualifications,  as  well  as  the  thing  itself,  are  to  be  re- 
garded.*' And  now  all  this  parade  and  precision,  displayed  by  the 
old  Physician  quoted,  will  be  found  amply  observed  and  fulfilled  in 
the  treatise  before  us,  to  which  we  proceed  with  pleasure  and  hope. 

This  edition  of  Dr.  Combe*s  work  on  the  Principles  of  Physiology, 
applied  to  the  Preservation  of  Health,  and  the  Improvement  of  Phy- 
sical and  Mental  Education,  contains  ten  chapters.  The  first  is  intro- 
ductory, and  is  devoted  to  a  definition  of  the  term  Physiology,  to  a 
description  of  its  objects,  uses,  and  capabilities,  as  well  as  several 
other  general  matters,  all  bearing  on  the  succeeding  parts.  He  goes 
to  tell  us,  that,  in  selecting  the  subjects  for  the  following  chapters, 
he  shall  be  guided  partly  by  the  intrinsic  importance  of  the  fimctions 
treated  of,  to  the  well-Deing  of  the  animal  economy,  and  partly  by 
the  comparative  ignorance  which  prevails  in  regard  to  them.  That 
hitherto  the  digestive  functions  have  been  the  prominent  topic  of 
popular  disquisitions,  but  that  there  are  other  organs  of  nearly  equal 
interest,  which  have  been  much  less  attended  to,  than  they  deserve ; 
such  as  the  skin,  the  muscles,  the  bon&s,  the  lungs,  and  the  nervous 
system.  He  accordingly  devotes  the  second  chapter  to  the  struc- 
ture and  functions  of  the  skin,  and  in  such  a  manner  as  to  be  highly 
curious  and  instructive,  as  our  readers  shall  immediately  learn. 

•*The  structure  of  the  skin,  like  that  of  every  other  part  of  the  animal  frame, 
displays  the  most  striking  proofs  of  the  tiansccudant  wisdom  and  bcnefi- 
cence  of  its  great  Creator,  lliough  simple  iu  appearance  and  in  design. 


The  Principles  of  Physiology,  183 

it  IB  a  compound  of  many  elements,  and  the  seat  of  aa  great  a  variety  of 
lonctaons.  Il  is  composed  of  three  layers  of  membrane,  viz.  the  thin 
ecarf'skin  or  cuticle,  the  mucous  coat,  and  the  thick  true  skin,  as  it  is  called, 
which  immediately  encompasses  the  body.  These  distinctions  should  be 
kept  in  view,  for,  as  it  is  a  general  law  of  the  animal  economy  that  every 
part  has  a  use  or  function  peculiar  to  itself,  the  various  uses  of  the  com- 
pound can  be  understood  only  by  attending  to  &ose  of  the  simple  ele- 
ments. 

*'  The  epidennis,  cuticle  or  ^carf-skin,  is  the  outermost  of  the  three  layers, 
and  is  that  which  is  raised  ia  blisters.  It  is  a  thin  continuous  and  insen- 
sible membrane,  has  no  perceptible  blood-vessels  or  nerves,  and  conse- 
quently neidier  bleeds  nor  feels  pain  when  cut  or  abraded.  Being  homo- 
geneous in  structure,  it  is  suppcwed  by  many  to  be  merely  an  exudation 
of  albuminous  mucus;  and  although  depressions  are  obvious  on  its  sur- 
face, and  exhalations  and  absorption  are  proved  to  be  carried  on  through 
its  substance,  it  is  still  in  dispute  whedier  it  be  actually  porous  or  not. 
Probability  is  in  favour  of  the  affirmative,  and  the  circumstance  of  the 
pores  not  being  visible,  is  no  proof  of  the  contrary,  for  the  cuticle  is  so 
elastic  that  it  may  be  perforated  by  a  needle,  and  yet  the  hole  not  be  dis- 
cernible even  under  the  microscope.  The  question  is,  however,  one  of  little 
moment,  provided  it  be  remembered  that  its  texture,  whether  perforated 
or  not,  is  such  as  to  admit  of  exhalation  and  absorption  talang  place 
through  its  substance. 

^  The  structure  of  the  cuticle  is  in  admirable  harmony  with  its  uses. 
Placed  as  an  insensible  intermedium  between  external  objects  and  the 
delicate  nervous  expansion  on  the  surface  of  the  subjacent  true  skin,  it 
sdWes  as  a  physical  defence  against  friction;  and  while  by  impeding  eva- 
poration, it  preserves  the  true  skin  in  that  soft  and  moist  state  which  is 
essential  to  its  utility,  it  also  by  impeding  absorption,  enables  man  to  ex- 
pose himself  without  injury  to  the  action  of  numerous  agents,  which,  but 
for  its  protection,  would  immediately  be  absorbed,  and  cause  the  speedy 
destruction  of  health  and  life."  pp.41 — 43. 

Were  this  external  coat  wanting^  workmen  exposed  to  an  at* 
mosphere  loaded  with  metallic  or  poisonous  vapours,  or  obliged  to 
handle  poisonous  substances,  would  be  subjected  to  destructive  evils. 
It  is  a  striking  manifestation  of  divine  goodness  and  power,  that 
even  at  birth  there  is  a  greater  thickness  of  the  cuticle  in  such  parts 
as  are  to  be  exposed  to  pressure  or  friction,  than  in  those  that  are 
not  so  exposed. 

Beneath  the  scarf-skin  is  the  mucovs  coat  or  net  work,  which 
is  remarkable  chiefly  as  the  seat  of  the  colouring  matter  of  the 
skin,  for  instance,  in  the  skins  of  many  fishes  and  other  animals, 
it  has  often  a  high  and  almost  metallic  splendour.  But,  in  the 
human  race  it  is  seen  with  difiiculty  on  dissection,  except  in  ne- 
groes. 

"The  third  or  inmost  layer,  called  the  true  skin,  dermis,  or  corion,  con- 
stitutes the  chief  thickness  of  the  skin,  and  is  by  far  the  most  impor- 
tant of  the  three,  both  in  structure  and  functions.  Unlike  the  cuticle  and 
mucous  coat,  which  are  homogeneous  in  their  whole  extent,  and  appa- 
rently without  organization,  the  true  skin,  or  simply,  as  we  shall  call  it 
for  brevity's  sake,  the  skiuy  is  very  delicately  organized,  and  endowed  with 


184  Tike  Principles  of  PJ^mhgy. 

tbe  princij^  of  life  in  a  rerj  high  degree.  Not  only  is  it  the  boMttifiil  and 
ef&eacious  protector  of  the  sabjacent  BtructureB,  but  it  is  the  seat  of  sen- 
sation and  of  touch,  and  the  instrument  of  a  very  important  exhalation, 
VIZ.  perspiration,  die  right  condition  or  disturbance  of  which  is  a  most 
pow^rfvd  agoit  in  the  preservation  or  subversion '  of  the  genertd  health. 
The  dermis  is  a  dense,  firm,  and  resistant  tissue,  possessed  of  great  exten- 
sibilitjr  and  elasticitj,  and  of  a  colour  more  or  less  red  in  proportion  to 
the  qhantity  of  blood  it  receives  and  contains.  Its  looser  internal  sur- 
fisoe,  which  is  united  to  tiie  cellular  membrane  in  which  the  fat  is  de- 
ported, presents  a  great  number  of  cells  or  cavities,  which  penetrate 
oUiqueiy  into  the  substance,  and  towards  the  external  surface,  of  the  skin, 
and  also  contain  fatty  matter.  The  areolas  or  cells  are  larger  on  some 
parts  of  the  body  than  on  others :  they  are  very  ismall  on  the  back  of  the 
hand  and  foot,  die  forehead,  and  other  places  where  fat  is  never  deposited 
and  the  skin  is  very  thin;  while  they  are  large  in  the  palm  of  the  band 
and  sole  of  the  foot,  idiere  the  skin  is  consequently  thicker  and  fat 
abounds.  These  cells  are  traversed  by  innumerable  blood-vessels  and  fila- 
ment  of  nerves,  which  pass  through  to  be  ramified  on  the  outer  surface  of 
die  skin,  where  they  shew  themselves  in  the  form  of  numerote  small 
papilte  or  points,  wMch  are  very  visible  on  the  surface  of  the  tongue, 
and  on  the  fingers  and  palm  of  the  hand.  Hieee  papiihe  constitute  the 
true  organs  of  touch  and  sensation,  and  are  therefore  most  thiekly  planted 
where  diese  senses  are  most  acute,  the  true  skin  is  so  abundandy  supfdied 
with  Ulood  and  nervous  power,  that,  for  practical  purposes,  it  may  almost 
be  regarded  as  composed  of  vessels  and  nerves  alone  ;  and  it  is  important 
to  notice  this  fact.  The  universal  and  equal  redness  of  the  skin  in  i^ush- 
lag,  is  itself  a  proof  of  great  vascularity;  but  a  still  stronger  consists  in 
our  being  unable  to  direct  die  point  of  the  finest  needle  into  any  spot 
without  puncturing  a  vessel  and  drawing  blood.  Hie  same  test  proves 
the  equal  abundance  of  nervous  filaments  in  tbe  skin,  for  not  b.  point  can 
be  punctured  without  transfixing  a  nerve  and  causing  pain;  and  it  is 
well  known  that,  in  surgical  operations  and  accidented  wounds,  the  chief 
pain  is  always  in  the  skin,  because  it  is  profusely  supplied  with  nerves 
of  sensation  on  purpose  to  serve  as  the  instrument  of  feeling.  From  diese 
examples,  the  skin  may  be  truly  considered  as  a  network  of  blood-vessels 
and  nerves  of  the  finest  conceivable  texture ;  and,  taking  the  vast  extent 
of  its  whole  surface  (estimated  to  exceed  in  a  man  of  average  size  2,500 
square  inches)  into  account,  we  can  easily  understand  how  these  minute 
ramifications  may  really  constitute  a  larger  mass  of  nervous  matter  than 
is  contained  in  the  original  trunks  of  the  nen^es  from  which  they  are  in- 
correcdy  said  to  arise,  and  also  how  so  large  a  proportion  of  the  whole 
blood  may  be  circulating  through  the  skin  at  one  tim«. 

"To  understand  the  impoitant  purposes  of  the  true  skin,  we  must  distin- 
guish between  its  constituent  parts,  and  consider  it,  in  virtue  of  each  of 
tiiem,<«-l^.  As  an  exhalant  of  waste  matter  from  the  system;  2(ffy,  As  a 
joint  regulator  of  the  heat  of  the  body ;  Sdly,  As  an  agent  of  absorption ; 
and  4thly,  As  the  seat  of  sensation  and  touch." — ^pp.46 — 48. 

Tbe  whole  animal  system  is  in  a  state  of  constant  decay  and  re- 
BbOvatioD,  and  the  skin  focms  one  of  the  principal  outlets^  not  merely 
by  Menstble  perspiration,  but  by  that  which  is  insen$ible,  and  to  an 
extent  which  few  are  aware  of.     This  inseosible  escape  of  useless 


The  Prmciples  of  Phynology.  185 

partidefl,  no  bnger  semdeable  to  fhe  eyatem  is  constant^  and  of 
gieat  importonce  to  the  preservation  of  healt^^ 

"  Many  attempts  have  been  made  to  estimate  accurately  the  amount  of 
exhalation  carried  off  through  the  skin;  but  so  many  difficulties  stiiid  in 
the  ^iray  of  obtaining  precise  results,  and  the  difference  in  different  con- 
stitutions and  even  in  the  same  person  at  different  times  is  so  great»  that 
we  must  be  satisfied  with  an  approximation  to  the  truth.  Sanotorius,  who 
carefully  weighed  himself,  his  food,  and  his  excretions,  in  a  balance, 
every  day  for  thirty  years,  came  to  the  conclusion  that  Jive  out  of  every 
eight  pounds  of  substances  taken  into  the  system  passed  out  of  it  again 
by  the  skin,  leaving  only  three  to  pass  off  by  the  bowels,  the  lungs,  and 
the  kidneys.  The  celebrated  Lavoisier  and  M.  Seguin  afterwards  entered 
on  the  same  field  of  inquiry,  and  with  greater  success,  as  they  were  the 
first  to  distinguish  between  the  cutaneous  and  pulmonary  exhalations. 
M.  Seguin  shut  himself  up  in  a  bag  of  glazed  taffetas,  which  was  tied  over 
his  head  and  provided  with  a  hole,  the  edges  of  which  were  glued  to  his 
lips  with  a  mixture  of  turpentine  and  pitch,  so  that  the  pulmonary  ex- 
halation might  be  thrown  outwards,  and  the  cutanecms  alone  be  retained 
in  the  bag.  He  first  weighed  himself  and  the  bag  in  a  very  nice  balance, 
at  the  beginning  of  the  experiment;  then  at  the  end  of  it,  when  he  had 
become  Gghter  in  proportion  to  the  quantity  of  exhalation  thrown  out 
by  the  breathing ;  and,  lastly,  he  weighed  himself  out  of  the  bag,  to  as- 
certain how  much  weight  he  had  lost  in  all;  and  by  subtracting  the 
loss  occasioned  by  the  lungs,  the  remainder  of  course  exhibited  the  amount 
carried  off  by  the  sldn.  He  attended  minutely  also  to  the  cpUateral  dr- 
cumatances  of  diet,  temperature,  &c. ;  and  allowance  being  made  for  these, 
the  results  at  which  he  arrived  were  the  following : — 

"The  largest  quantity  of  insensible  perspiration  from  the  hings  and  skin 
together,  amounted  to  thirty-two  grains  per  minute;  three  ounces  and  a 
quarter  per  hour;  or,  five  pounds  per  day.  Of  this  the  cutaneous  consti- 
tuted two-thirds,  or  sixty  ounces  in  twenty-four  liours.  The  mnaUett 
quantity  observed,  amounted  to  eleven  grains  per  minute,  or  one  pound 
eleren  and  a  half  ounces  in  twenty-four  hours,  of  which  the  skin  furmshed 
aboat  twenty  ounces.  The  mediwn  or  average  amount  was  eighteen 
grains  a  minute,  of  which  eleven  were  from  the  skin,  making  in  twenty- 
foor  hours  about  thirty-three  ounces.  "When  the  extent  ol  surface 
which  the  sldn  presents  is  considered,  these  results  do  not  seem  extrava- 
gant. But  even  admitting  that  there  may  be  some  unperceived  souroe 
of  Mlacy  in  the  experiments,  and  that  the  quantity  is  not  so  great  as  is 
here  stated,  still,  alter  making  every  allowance,  enough  remains  to  de- 
monstrate that  exhalation  is  a  very  important  function  of  tiie  skin.  And 
although  the  precise  amount  of  perspiration  may  be  disputed,  still  the 
greats  number  of  obse^ers  agree  that  the  cutaneous  exhalation  is  more 
abundant  than  the  united  excretions  of  both  bowels  and  kidneys  2  and 
that  according  as  the  weather  becomes  warmer  or  colder,  the  skin  and 
kidneys  alternate  in  the  proportions  of  work  which  they  severally  perform; 
moat  passing  off  by  the  skin  in  warm  weather,  and  by  the  kidneys  in 
cold,  and  vice  versd.  The  quantity  exhaled  increases  after  meals,  during 
sleep,  in  dry  warm  weather,  and  by  ftiction,  or  whatever  stimulates  the 
skill ;  and  ^minishes  when  digestion  is  impaired,  and  in  a  moist  atmo- 
sphere."— ipp,  49 — 51 . 


186  The  Principles  of  PhjfMU^.' 

Insensible  perspiratim  is  only  included  in  this ; — and,  thereCotc^ 
when  we  consider  that  a  robust  man ,  according  to  our  author,  may 
lose  by  that  which  is  sensible ^  two  or  three  pounds'  weight  in  the 
course  of  one  hour's  severe  exertion,  we  perceive  what  an  importa&t 
organ  the  skin  is,  and  how  much  the  health  may  be  aflbcted 
through  it,  by  heat  or  cold,  dryness  or  humidity. 

"  When  the  lungs  are  the  weak  parts,  and  their  lining  membrane  is 
habitually  relaxed,  accompanied  by  an  unusual  amount  of  mucous  secre- 
tion from  its  surface,  cold  applied  to  the  skin  throws  the  mass  of  the 
blood  previously  circulating  there  inwards  upon  the  lungs,  and  increases 
that  secretion  to  a  high  degree.  Were  this  secretion  to  accumulate,  it 
would  soon  fill  up  the  air-cells  of  the  lungs,  and  cause  suffocation ;  but  to 
obviate  this  danger,  the  Creator  has  so  constituted  the  lungs,  that  any 
foreign  body  coming  in  contact  with  them  excites  tbe  convulsive  effort 
called  coughing,  by  which  a  violent  and  rapid  expiration  takes  place,  with 
a  force  sufficient  to  hurry  the  foreign  body  along  with  it ;  just  as  peas 
are  discharged  by  boys  with  much  force  through  short  tubes  by  a  sudden 
effort  of  blowing.  Thus,  a  check  given  to  perspiration,  by  diminishing  the 
quantity  of  blood  previously  circulating  on  the  surface,  naturally  leads 
very  often  to  increased  expectoration  and  cough,  or,  in  other  words,  to 
common  cold.*' — ^pp,  55,  56. 

The  connexion  between  the  suppression  of  perspiration,  and  the 
appearance  of  internal  disease,  we  are  told  by  the  author  is  not  the 
effect  of  the  suppressed  exhalation  being  transferred  to  the  internal 
organ,  but  in  many  cases  to  an  impression  on  the  nervous  system. 

'*  It  is  in  consequence  of  the  sympathy  and  reciprocity  of  action  exist- 
ing between  the  iJdn  and  the  internal  organs,  that  burns  and  even  scalds 
of  no  very  great  extent  prove  fatal,  by  inducing  internal,  generally  intes- 
tinal, inflamation.  By  disordering  or  disorgranizing  a  large  nervous  and 
exhaling  surface,  an  extensive  bum  causes  not  only  a  violent  nervous 
commotion,  but  a  continued  partial  suspension  of  an  important  excretion; 
and,  when  death  ensues  at  some  distance  of  time,  it  is  almost  always  in  con- 
sequence of  inflammation  being  excited  in  the  bowels  or  sympathizing 
organ.  So  intimate,  indeed,  is  this  connexion,  that  some  surgeons  of 
great  experience,  such  as  Baron  Dupu3rtren  of  the  Hotel  Dieu,  while  they 
point  to  internal  imflammation  as  in  such  cases  the  general  cause  of  death, 
doubt  whether  recovery  ever  takes  place,  when  more  than  one-eighth  of 
the  surface  of  the  body  is  severely  burnt;  and  whether  this  estimate  be 
correct  or  not,  the  facts  from  which  it  is  drawn  clearly  demonstrate  the 
importance  of  the  relation  subsisting  betwixt  the  skin  and  the  other  ex- 
creting organs." — ^p.68. 

The  skin  also  regulates  bodily  heat,  in  the  polar  regions  and  in 
the  torrid  zone,  keeping  the  human  frame  at  nearly  the  same 
temperature.  Without  this  power  of  adaptation,  man  must  have 
been  chdned  for  life  to  the  climate  which  gave  him  birth ;  and 
though  the  sources  of  animal  heat  have  not  been  demonstrably 
ascertained,  it  is  constantly  generated  and  constantly  expended. 

"During  repose,  or  passive  exercise,  the  surplus  heat  is  readily  carried 
off  by  the  insensible  perspiration  from  the  lungs  and  skin,  and  by  the 
contact  of  the  colder  air ;  but  when  the  amount  of  heat  generated  is  in- 


Tke  PrimcipUm  of  Phenology,  187 

creased,  as  durikig  active  ekerdse,  jwa  increased  MciMMiiditure  becomes  im^ 
mediatdy  necessary :  this  is  effected  by  the  skin  and  lungs  being  exdfeed 
to  higher  action;  by  the  latter  sending  out  the  respired  air  lotted  with 
vs^nr,  and  the  former  exhaling  its  fluid  so  rapidly  as  to  form  sweat. 
Accordingly,  we  find  that  in  cold  countries,  and  in  frosty  weather,  the  ex- 
halation from  the  skin  ie  reduced  to  a  very  moderate  amount,  the  super- 
abundant heat  being  rapidly  carried  off  by  contact  with  a  cooler  air;  and 
that,  in  warm  climates,  where  the  heat  is  not  carried  off  in  this  way,  the 
surface  is  constantly  bedewed  with  perspiration,  and  a  corresponding  ap- 
petite exists  for  liquids  by  which  the  perspiration  may  be  kept  up  to  a 
sufficient  degree.  Every  one  must  have  experienced  tJie  grateM  effects 
of  this  provision,  in  passing  from  the  dry,  restless,  and  burning  heat, 
like  that  of  fever,  to  the  soft  and  pleasant  coolness  which  follows  the 
breaking  out  of  the  sweat. 

"  In  very  warm  weather,  the  dog  is  always  seen  with  its  tongue  lolling 
out  of  its  mouth,  and  copiously  covered  with  frothy  secretion.  This  is 
merely  another  modification  of  the  means  used  for  reducing  animal  heat. 
The  dog  perspires  very  little  from  its  skin,  and  the  copious  exhalation 
from  the  mouth  is  the  substitute  resorted  to  by  Nature  for  supplying  its 
place."— pp.  60—62. 

It  is  thus  easily  understood^  why  in  summet  we  soflSet  most  from 
heat  in  moist  dose  weather,  when  no  air  is  stirring ;  and  why  warm 
moist  climates  are  mojst  unwholesome.  The  evaporation  from  the 
skin  is  diminished ;  ttie  atmosphere  partially  shuts  up  the  natural 
outlet  of  the  superflous  heat,  at  the  same  time  that  it  checks  the 
exit  df  the  waste  matter  of  the  system.  Moist  air  is  also  favourable 
to  absorption^  and  noxious  effluvia  are  more  easily  in  such  a 
climate  received  into  the  system.  Night  air  is  on  this  principle 
unwholesome.  Absorption  is,  therefore,  in  some  measure,  the  op- 
posite of  the  last-mentioned  process.  As  one  instance  of  the  man- 
ner in  which  it  operates,  take  the  following  useful  illustration  :— 

'^  When  the  perspiration  is  brought  to  the  surfEUse  of  the  skin  and  con- 
fined there  either  by  injudicious  clothing  or  by  want  of  cleanliness,  there 
is  much  reason  to  suppose  that  its  residual  parts  are  again  absorbed,  and 
act  on  the  system  as  a  poison  of  greater  or  less  power,  according  to  its 
quantity  and  degree  of  concentration,  thereby  producing  fever,  inflamma- 
tion, and  even  death  itself ;  for  it  is  established  by  observation,  that  con- 
centrated animal  eflluvia  form  a  very  energetic  poison.  The  fatal  conse- 
quences which  have  repeatedly  followed  the  use  of  a  close  water-proof 
dress  by  sportsmen  and  others,  and  the  heat  and  uneasy  resUessness 
which  speedily  ensue  where  proper  ventilation  is  thus  prevented,  seem  ex- 
plicable on  some  such  principle." — ^pp.  67,  68. 

Another  wonderful  function  of  the  skin  is,  that  it  serves  as  the 
instrument  of  touch  and  sensation,  '^  by  affording  a  suitable  surfiaice 
for  the  distribution  and  protection  of  the  nerves  which  receive  and 
transmit  to  the  brain  and  mind  the  impressions  of  external  bodies. 
The  filaments  from  the  nerves  pervaae  the  whole  body,  without 
which  the  texture  and  vitality  of  the  skin  might  be  destroyed  and 
yet  one  be  unconscious  of  the  fact :  though  the  hands  and  tongue 
in  man  are  the  chief  parts  for  the  exercise  of  touch.     From  this 


188  The  Prindplet  of  Pkyfklogy. 

office,  the  skm  has  a  teucfa  more  extensive  connection  with  the 
hi^hevt  llinctions  of  the  body  and  even  of  the  mind,  than  at  first 
appears  to  the  ignorant. 

"  It  is  the  nervous  tissue  of  the  skin  which  takes  cognizance  of  the 
temperature  of  the  bodies  by  which  we  are  surrounded,  and  imparts  to 
the  mind  the  sensation  of  warmth  or  coldness.  In  the  healthy  state,  tite 
sensation  is  a  correct  index  of  the  real  temperature ;  but,  in  disease,  we 
often  complain  of  cold  and  shivering  when  the  skin  is  positively  warmer 
than  natural.  In  this  way,  those  whose  digestion  is  weak,  and  whose  cir- 
culation is  feeble,  complain  habitually  of  cold,  and  of  cold  feet,  where 
others,  differently  constituted,  experience  no  such  sensations.  Exercise 
dissipates  this  feeling  and  increases  heat,  by  exciting  the  circulation  of 
the  blood,  throwing  more  of  it  to  the  surface,  and  thereby  increasing  the 
action  of  the  cutaneous  vessels  and  nerves. 

"Some  mental  emotions  operate  upon  the  skin,  and  impmr  its  functions 
much  in  the  same  way  as  cold.  Grief,  fear,  and  the  depressing  passions, 
by  diminishing  the  afflux  of  arterial  blood,  render  the  skin  pale,  and  at 
the  same  time  diminish  perspiration  and  nervous  action;  while  rage  and 
bther  violent  passions,  by  augmenting  the  aiHux  of  blood,  elevate  the 
temperature  of  the  skin,  and  give  rise  to  the  red  flush,  fulness,  and 
tension  so  characteristic  of  excitement.  Sometimes,  indeed,  the  effect  of 
mental  emotions  on  the  skin  is  so  great  as  to  induce  disease.  In  speaking 
of  impetigo.  Dr.  Bateman  aUudes  to  two  gentlemen  in  whom  the  eruption 
arose  from  'great  alarm  and  agitation  of  mind ;'  and  adds,  that  he  '  wit- 
nessed some  lime  ago  the  extraordinary  influence  of  mental  alarm  on 
the  cutaneous  circulation  in  a  poor  woman  who  became  a  patient  of  the 
Public  Dispensary.  A  sudden  universal  anasarca  (dropsy  under  the  skin) 
followed  m  one  night,  the  shock  occasioned  by  the  loss  of  a  small  sum  of 
money,  which  was  all  she  possessed .'  Facts  like  these  establish  a  con- 
nection between  the  brain  and  the  nervous  system  and  the  skin,  which 
it  is  important  not  to  overlook. 

^  Such  are  the  direct  and  important  uses  of  the  skin.  But  in  addition 
to  the  parts  already  noticed,  there  are  numerous  small  follicles  contained 
hi  its  substance,  more  abundant  where  hairs  are  implanted,  and  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  orifices  of  natural  canals,  than  in  other  regions,  but  exist* 
ing  in  all  parts  except  the  palms  of  the  hands  and  soles  of  the  feet.  They 
are  about  the  size  of  a  millet  seed,  and  the  skin  which  contains  them  is 
thin,  reflected  on  itself,  and  very  vascular.  Their  cavities  are  filled  with 
an  oily  humour  and  each  opens  by  an  orifice  at  the  external  suilace  of  the 
aldn.  It  is  this  oily  matter  which  prevents  water  from  penetrating  easily 
and  relaxing  the  cuticle,  and  the  absence  of  which,  wh^Ei  it  had  been  re- 
moved by  the  soda  used  in  washing,  allows  the  dun  of  the  hands  and 
fingers  to  assume  that  wrinkled  and  shrivelled  appearance  which  is  com- 
mon among  washerwomen*" — ^pp.  74 — 77. 

The  third  chapter  is  on  the  preservation  of  the  health  of  the 
skill ;  in  which  he  proceeds  to  point  out  some  of  the  advantages  to 
be  derived  from  the  foregoing  knowledge. 

"  It  appears  from  the  London  Bills  of  Mortality,  that  between  a  fourth 
and  a  fifth  of  all  the  infants  baptized  die  witliin  the  first  two  years  of  their 
existence.  This  extraordinary  result  is  not  a  part  of  the  Creator's  de- 
signs ;  it  docs  not  occur  in  the  lower  animals,  and  must  therefore  have 


The  Principiesqf  Physioiogy.  189 

causes  capable  t>f  removal.  One  of  these,  to  speak  only  of  what  is  re- 
lated to  the  present  inquiry,  Is  unquestionably  the  inadequate  protection 
afforded,  especially  among  the  poorer  classes,  to  the  new-bom  infant, 
againi^  the  effects  of  the  great  and  sudden  transition  which  it  makes  i^ 
passing  at  once  froja  a  high  aad  almost  unvarying  temperature  in  the 
mother's  womb,  to  one  greatly  inferior  and  constantly  liable  to  change. 
At  birth,  the  skin  is  deUoate,  extremely  vascular,  and  highly  suscepti- 
ble of  impressions,  so  maoh  so,  that  cases  have  occurred  in  which  a  leech 
bite  has  caused  a  f^tal  hemorrhage.  The  circulation  is,  in  fact,  cuta-; 
neons ;  for  the  lungs,  the  stomach,  the  liver,  and  the  kidneys,  are  as  yet 
new  to  life,  and  feeble  in  their  functions.  If  the  infant,  then,  be  rasnly 
exposed  to  a  ^M  atmosphere,  the  mass  of  blood  previously  circulating  on 
the  surface  of  the  body  is  immediately  driven  inwards  by  the  contraction 
of  the  cutaneous  vessels,  and,  by  over  stimulating  the  internal  organs, 
gives  rise  to  bowel  complaints,  inflammations,  croup,  or  convulsions, 
which  sooner  or  later  extinguish  life.  This  shews  the  inexpressible 
folly  of  those  who  bathe  infants  daily  in  cold  water  even  in  winter,  and 
freelv  expose  them  to  the  open  air,  or  to  currents  from  open  doors  or 
windows,  with  a  view  to  harden  their  constitutions ;  when  it  is  quite  cer- 
tain that  no  more  effectual  means  could  be  resorted  to  in  the  earlier 
months  of  life,  to  undermine  the  general  health  and  entail  future  disease 
on  the  unhappy  subjects  of  the  experiment." — pp.  78,  79* 

The  anther  states  that  this  practice  has  perhaps  arisen  from  the 
prei^ent  error  of  supposing  infanta  to  be  naturally  possessed  of  a  great 
power  of  generating  beat^  and  resisting  cold.  The  very  contrary 
has  been  establishc^d  by  experiment  to  be  the  &ct.  The  opposite 
error  is  next  exposed^  that  of  overloading  children  with  warm 
clothings  and  con&nng  them  to  hot  and  close  rooms.  Many  exceU 
lent  and  pertinent  things  are  said  by  our  author  on  the  subject  of 
jndicioos  dofliing^  and  all  in  concordance  with  his  foregoing  doc* 
trina  on  the  skin. 

^  Female  dress  errs  in  one  important  particular,  even  when  well  suited 
in  material  and  quantity.  From  the  tightness  with  which  it  is  made  to 
fit  on  the  upper  part  of  the  body,  not  only  is  the  insensible  perspiration 
iBJudicioualy  apd  hurtfuUy  connned,  but  that  free  play  between  the  dress 
ai^  the  skin,  which  is  so  beneficial  in  gently  stunulating  the  latter  by 
friction  on  every  movement  of  the  body,  is  altogether  prevented,  and  the 
action  of  the  cutaneous  nerves  and  vessels,  and  consequently  the  heat 
generated,  rendered  lower  in  degree,  than  would  result  from  the  same 
dress  worn  more  loosely.  Every  part  and  every  function  are  thus  linked 
so  closely  with  the  rest,  that  we  can  neither  act  wrong  as  regards  one 
organ  without  all  suffering,  nor  act  right  without  all  sharing  in  the 
benefit."— pp.  84,  85. 

The  value  of  flannel  next  the  skin,  the  salutary  effects  of  fre- 
quent washing,  of  clean  dress,  of  dry  feet,  especially  when  the  per^ 
son  is  not  taUng  exercise  to  counterbalance  the  unequal  flow  of 
blood  that  is  then  sent  to  the  internal  parts,  are  all  plainly  and 
strikingly  illustrated.  And  even  the  great  influence  of  the  solar 
light  as  a  stimulus  to  the  skin,  is  clearly  exhibited  by  the  author, 
a  matter  which  has  not  hitherto  been  much  attended  to.    We  have 


1 90  The  Principles  of  Physiology. 

not  room  to  ^e  his  various  sensible  and  praeffcal  rules  oirthe  sub- 
ject of  bathing.  Let  every  invalid  pundiase  the  work  for  his  im- 
mediate use  on  this  particular  pointy  and  we  are  sure^  if  washing, 
bathing,  and  rubbings  be  suitable  for  him,  he  will  be  soon  doubly 
repaid  by  the  simple  directions  therein  contained.  But  let  it  once 
for  all  be  understood,  that  the  work  is  fitted  to  teach  all,  how  health 
may  be  essentially  protected,  as  well  as  renovated;  and  to  every 
bather  it  is  therefore  a  highly  necessary  pocket  companion. 

The  fourth  and  fifth  chapters  are  twen  up  with  a  consideratioa 
of  the  museokr  system,  and  the  effects  and  rules  for  muscular  ex- 
ercise. These  chapters  are  particularly  fitted  to  excite  the  attention 
of  all^  bat  as  the  author  says,  especially  of  those  who  are  interested 
in  file  well-being  and  education  of  the  young.  In  the  sixth  chapter 
fhe  bones,  their  structure,  uses,  and  health  are  described;  in  the 
seventh,  respiration  and  its  uses.  But  although  every  part  and  chap- 
ter presents  materials  as  instructive  and  practical  as  any  hitherto 
quoted;  our  limits  must  be  observed,  and  therefore  we  nasten  on 
to  the  nervous  system  and  mentd  faculties  which  occupy  the  latter 
chapters. 

The  brain  is  the  chief  organ  in  the  nervous  syatem,  and  that  to 
which  the  author  confines  most  of  his  remarks.  He  treats  it  as 
'Hhe  seat  of  thought,  feeling,  and  consciousness,  and  the  centre 
towards  which  all  impressions  made  on  the  nerves  distributed 
through  the  body  are  conveyed,  and  from  which  the  commands  of 
the  wUl  are  transmitted  to  put  die  various  parts  in  motion.''  Mind 
and  brain  however  are  not  considered  by  him  as  being  one  and  the. 
same  thing ;  he  merely  intends  that  the  brain  is  as  necessarily 
engaged  in  'Cvery  intelectual  and  moral  operation  as  the  eye  is  in 
every  act  of  vision.  The  activity  of  mind  and  activity  of  brain,  he 
justly  holds  to  be  inseparable,  and  on  these  data  he  builds  much 
of  what  follows  in  this  treatise ;  the  laws  by  which  their  healthy 
action  is  regulated,  being  of  primary  importance  to  his  views.  There 
are  certain  conditions  which  he  states  to  be  essential  to  this  health. 
A  sound  original  constitution  is  the  first  thing  mentioned  as  re- 
quisite to  the  brain.  The  second  condition  required  is  a  due 
supply  of  good  blood ;  that  is,  blood  properly  oxygenated.  The 
third  and  chief  object  of  the  author's  consideration  is  the  r^ular 
exercise  of  the  brain  and  nervous  system.  And  here  he  lays  it 
down,  that  the  brain  is  subject  in  its  exercise  to  precisely  the  same 
laws  as  the  other  organs  of  the  body. 

Of  the  consequences  of  inadequate  exercise.  Dr.  Combe  presents 
the  following  illustration,  of  the  spirit  with  which  it  is  detailed  it  is 
unnecessary  to  speak ;  but  in  our  admiration  of  the  sentiments  here 
and  in  many  other  parts  exhibited,  the  fact  forcibly  strikes  us,  that 
medical  men  have  not  only  been  great  contributors  to  intellectual 
philosophy,  but  remarkable  characters  for  humanity  and  the  ten- 
derest  sensibilities. 


■The  Principles  of  Physiology.  '  WS     191 

**  We  have  seen  that»  by  disuse,  muscle  becomes  emaciated,  bone  soft- 
ezis,  blood-vessels  are  obtiterated,  and  nerves  loose  their  characteristic 
structure.  The  brain  is  no  exception  to  this  general  rule.  Of  it  also 
the  tone  is  impaired  by  pennanent  inactivity,  and  it  becomes  less  fit  to 
manifest  the  mental  powers  with  readiness  and  energry.  Nor  will  this 
surprise  any  reflecting  person,  who  considers  that  the  brain,  as  a  part  of 
the  same  animal  system,  is  nourished  by  the  same  blood,  and  regulated 
by  the  same  vital  laws,  as  the  muscles,  bones,  and  nerves. 

**  It  is  the  weakening  and  depressing  effect  upon  the  brain  of  the  with- 
drawal of  the  stimulus  necessary  for  its  healthy  exercise,  which  renders 
solitary  confinement  so  severe  a  punishment  even  to  the  most  daring 
minds.  It  is  a  lower  degree  of  the  same  cause  which  renders  continuous 
seclusion  from  society  so  injurious  to  both  mental  and  bodily  health,  and 
which  oft;en  renders  the  situation,  of  governesses  one  of  misery  and  bad 
health,  even  where  every  kindness  is  meant  to  be  shewn  towards  them. 
In  many  families,  especially  in  the  higher  ranks,  the  governess  lives  so 
secluded  that  she  is  as  much  out  of  society  as  if  she  were  placed  in  soli- 
tary confinement.  She  is  too  much  above  the  domestics  to  make  com- 
panions of  them,  and  too  much  below  her  employers  to  be  treated  by 
them  either  with  confidence  or  ss  an  equal.  With  feelings  as  aeute,  in- 
terests as  dear,  to  her,  and  a  judgment  as  sound  as  those  of  any  of  the 
persons  who  scarcely  notice  her  existence,  she  is  denied  every  opportunity 
of  gratifying  the  first  or  expressing  the  last,  merely  because  she  '  is  only 
the  gi>veme8S ;'  as  if  governesses  were  not  made  of  the  same  flesh  and 
blood,  and  sent  into  the  world  by  the  same  Creator,  as  their  more  fortu- 
nate employers.  It  is,  I  believe,  beyond  question,  that  much  unhappiness, 
and  not  unfrequently  madness  itself,  are  unintentionally  caused  by  this 
cold  and  inconsiderate  treatment.  For  the  same  reason,  those  who  are 
cut  off  from  social  converse,  by  any  bodily  infirmity,  often  become  discon- 
tented and  morose  in  spite  of  every  resolution  to  the  contrary.  The 
feelings  and  faculties  of  the  mind,  which  had  formerly  full  play  in  their 
intercourse  with  their  fellow  creatures,  have  no  longer  scope  for  suffi- 
cient exercise,  and  the  almost  inevitable  result  is  irritability  and  weak- 
ness in  the  corresponding  parts  of  the  brain.'' — pp.  268,  269. 

Of|the  evils  arising  from  excessive  or  ill-timed  exercise  of  the 
brain^  take  a  few  of  the  instances  addaced. 

••  Sir  Astley  Cooper  had  a  young  gentleman  brought  to  him  who  had 
lost  a  portion  of  his  skull  just  above  the  eyebrow.  '  On  examining  the 
head,*  says  Sir  Astley,  '  I  distinctly  saw  the  pulsation  of  the  brain  was 
regular  and  slow;  but  at  this  time  he  was  agitated  by  some  opposition  to 
his  vnshcs,  and  directly  the  blood  was  sent  \oith  increased  force  to  the 
brain^  the  pulsation  became  frequent,  and  violent ;  ift  therefore,*  con- 
tinues Sir  Astley,  '  you  omit  to  ke^  the  mind  free  from  agitation^  your 
other  means  will  be  unavailing '  in  the  treatment  of  injuries  of  the  brain. 
We  are  conscious,  indeed,  of  a  flow  of  blood  to  the  head  when  we  think 
intently,  or  are  roused  by  passion ;  and  the  distension  of  the  small  vessels 
of  the  brain  is  hot  the  less  real  or  influential  on  account  of  its  being  hid- 
den from  our  view.  Too  often  it  reveals  itself  by  its  effects  when  least 
expected,  and  leaves  traces  after  death  which  are  but  too  legible.  How 
many  public  men,  like  Whitbread,  Romilly,  Castlereagh,  and  Canning, 
urgc^  on  by  ambition  or  natural  eagerness  of  mind,  have  been  suddenly 


199  The  Principies  of  Pk^mlogy. 

.arrested  in  their  career,  by  the  inordinate  action  of  the  brain  induced  by 
incefiaant  toil  I  And  how  many  more. have  had  their  mental  power  for 
ever  impaired  by  similar  excess  I  When  tasked  beyond  its  strength*  the 
eye  becomes  insensible  to  light,  and  no  longer  conveys  any  impreadons 
to  the  mind.  In  like  manner,  the  brain,  when  much  exhaiisted,  becomes 
incupable  of  thought,  and  coosciousneas  is  almost  kwt  in  a  feeliag  of  utter 
connision. 

'*  In  youth,  too,  much  nuschief  is  done  by  the  long  school  hours,  and 
continued  application  of  mind,  which  the  present  system  of  education 
requires.  The  law  oi  exercise,  that  long  sustained  action  exhausts  the 
•vital  powers  of  an  organ,  applies  equally  to  the  brain  as  to  the  muscles; 
and  hence  the  necessity  of  varyinp^  the  occupations  of  the  young,  and 
allowing  frequent  intervals  of  active  exercise  in  the  open  air,  instead  of 
enforcing  the  continued  confinement  now  so  common.  This  exclusive 
attention  to  mental  culture  fails,  as  might  be  expected,  even  in  its  essen- 
tial object;  for  experience  shows  that,  with  a  rational  distribution  of 
employment  and  exercise,  a  child  will  make  greater  progress  than  in 
double  the  time  employed  in  continuous  mental  exertion.  If  the  human 
being  were  made  up  of  nothing  but  a  brain  and  nervous  system,  it  would 
be  very  well  to  content  ourselves  with  sedentary  pursuits,  and  to  confine 
eduoation  entirely  to  the  mind.  But  when  observation  teUs  us  that  we 
have  numerous  other  important  organs  of  motion,  sanguification,  diges- 
tion, circulation,  and  nutrition,  all  demanding  exercise  and  the  open  air 
as  essential  both  to  their  own  health  and  to  that  of  the  nervous  system,  it 
is  worse  than  foUy  to  shut  our  eyes  to  the  fact,  and  to  act  as  if  we  could, 
by  denying  it,  alter  the  constitution  of  nature,  and  thereby  escape  the 
consequences  of  our  misconduct.*' — pp,  278 — 281. 

After  detailing  some  interesting  facts  connected  with  an  illness 
which  seized  Sir  Humphry  Davy  in  1807^  the  author  goes  pn  to 
say:— 

''  As  age  advances,  moderation  in  mental  exertion  becomes  still  more 
necessary  than  in  early  or  mature  years.  Scipion  Pinel,  in  adverting  to 
the  evil  consequences  of  excessive  moral  or  intellectunl  excitement, 
acutely  remarks,  that  while  in  youth  and  manhood  the  wear  of  the  brain 
thus  induced  may  be  repaired,  no  such  salutary  result  follows  over-exer- 
tion in  the  decline  of  life :  *  what  is  lost  then  is  lost  for  ever.  At  that 
period,  we  must  learn  to  wait  for  what  the  brain  is  willing  to  give,  and 
allow  it  to  work  at  its  own  time :  to  attempt  to  force  it  is  to  weaken  it  to 
no  purpose ;  it  becomes  excited  and  quickly  exhausted  when  forced  to 
vigorous  thinking.' — '  Men  of  exalted  intellect  perish  by  their  brains, 
and  such  is  the  noble  end  of  those  whose  genius  pnx^urcs  for  them  that 
immbrtality  which  so  many  ardently  desire.' 

'*  Who  can  peruse  these  lines  without  the  fiite  of  Scott  instantiy  occur- 
ring to  his  mind  as  a  practical  illustration  of  their  truth  ?  In  the  vigour 
of  manhood,  few  ever  wrote  so  much,  or  with  greater  ease.  But  when 
on  the  verge  of  old  age,  adversity  forced  him  to  unparalleled  exertion, 
the  organic  waste  could  no  longer  be  repaired,  and  perseverance  only 
'  weakened  the  brain  to  no  purpose/  till  morbid  irritability  became  the 
substitute  of  healthy  power,  aud  he  perished  by  that  brain  which  had 
served  him  so  faithfully  and  so  efficiently,  but  which  could  no  longer 
withstand  the  gigantic  efforts  which  he  continued  to  demand  from  it." — 
p.  287. 


ThePfiAcipka  of  Physiology,  193 

The  author  k  singularly  happy  and  cogent  in  all  he  urges  in  this 
f^hapter.  He  writes  with  great  earnestness  throughout,  but  towards 
the  latter  part  of  the  volume  he  rises  with  his  subject,  and  treats 
it  as  if  it  had  engaged  a  long  and  careful  investigation  as  well  as. 
heartfelt  aympathy.  Were  there  nothing  but  the  fineness  of  his 
fading  renrarkable  in  the  work,  and  the  taste  with  which  he  clothes 
his  sentiments,  we  should  predict  its  great  and  lasting  popularity. 
But  these  things  are  weddea  to  sterling  good  sense  and  phOosophi- 
cal  precision.  Our  readers  cannot  but  relish  his  facts  and  bis 
rea6<mings ;  therefore  we  must  still  fiirther  indulge  them : — 

^*  So  little,  however,  is  this  close  connection  of  the  mind  and  brain 
generally  understood,  even  among  educated  people,  that  instances  are  con- 
stantly occurring  of  the  health  of  the  nervous  system  being  ruined  by 
excessive  application  of  mind,  without  the  bufferer  having  any  suspicion 
of  the  true  cause  of  his  ailments.  This  fact  is  well  iexemplified  in  the 
pages  of  a  very  sound  and  able  American  writer,  who  says,  *I  once  knew 
a  young  Christian,  who  resolved  that  he  would  pass  the  whole  day  in 
pfayer.  But  very  soon  he  became  exhausted  and  weary.  He,  however, 
persevered  through  the  whole  day,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  necessary 
interruptions,  and  when  night  came  he  felt  a  deadness  and  exhattslioTk. 
0/ feeling  which  he  unhappily  mistook  for  ^ritual  desertiofi,*  I  need 
scarcely  add,  that  no  one  at  ail  acquainted  with  the  laws  which  God  has 
appointed  to  preside  over  the  functions  of  the  human  body,  could  ever 
have  expected  His  blessing  to  attend  so  flagrant  a  violation  of  His  de- 
signs, or  have  felt  surprise  at  the  apparent  spiritual  desertion  increasing 
in  exact  proportion  to  the  excess  of  the  hodily  fatigue.  Cases  like  that  of 
the  young  Christian  shew,  in  a  strong  light,  the  evils  arising  from  con- 
fining ourselves  too  exclusively  to  the  word,  and  neglecting  the  study  of 
the  works,  of  God,  as  if  the  latter  were  quite  of  a  secondary  character,  and 
did  not  proceed  from  the  same  infallible  source ;  whereas  it  is  only  by 
duly  investigating  the  laws  of  God,  as  operating  in  the  varied  works  of 
creation,  that^we  become  enabled  rightly  to  interpret  and  to  apply  to  our 
conduct  wh|it  is  revealed  in  His  word. 

"  The  time  best  adapted  for  mental  exertion  falls  next  to  be  considered. 
Nature  has  allotted  the  darkness  of  night  for  repose,  and  the  restoration, 
by  sleep,  of  the  exhausted  energies  of  mind  and  i;ody.  If  study  or  com- 
position be  ardently  engaged  in  towards  that  period  of  the  day,  the  in- 
creased action  of  the  brain,  which  always  accompanies  activity  of  mind, 
requires  a  long  time  to  subside ;  and,  if  the  individual  be  at  all  of  an  irri- 
table habit  of  body,  he  will  be  sleepless  for  hours  after  going  to  bed,  or 
perhaps  be  tormented  by  unpleasant  dreams.  If,  notwithstanding,  the 
practice  be  continued,  the  want  of  refreshing  repose  will  ultimately  induce 
a  state  of  morbid  irritability  of  the  nervous  system,  not  far  distant  from' 
insanity.  It  is  therefore  of  great  advantage  to  engage  in  severer  studies 
early  in  the  day,  and  devote  the  two  or  three  hours  which  precede  bed- 
time, to  lighter  reading,  music,  or  amusing  conversation.  The  vascular 
excitement  previously  induced  in  the  head  by  study  has  then  time  to  sub- 
side, and  sound  refreshing  sleep  is  much  more  certainly  obtained.  This 
rule  is  of  great  consequence  to  those  who  are  obliged  to  undergo  much 
mental  labour,  sad  it  will  be  found  that  many  of  our  most  prolific  writers, 
of  those  especially  who  write  much  and  yet  preserve  their  health,  are 

VOL.  III.  (1834.)  NO.  II.  p 


194  The  Princ^les  of  Pkffsiology. 

among  those  who  have  either  from  knowledge  or  incltnatkia  devoted  tlleir 
mornings  to  study  and  their  evenings  to  relaxation.  Such  was  Sir  Walter 
Scott's  distribution  tii  his  time,  and  such  is  that  of  one  of  our  ablest  living 
writers. "~pp.  290—294. 

On  the  organic  law  which  associates  aptitude^  ansmaiioiiy  aad 
vigour  with  regular  exercise,  and  of  the  vahie  of  jodioiooa  repetition 
in  mental  and  moral  education,  we  have  excellent  things  aaid.  The 
following  are  striking  illustrations  : — 

••  We  often  blame  servants  for  not  doing  a  thing  every  day,  because 
they  were  once  told  to  do  so.  The  organic  laws,  however,  teach  us  that 
we  are  presumptuous  in  expecting  the  formation  of  a  habit  from  a  single 
act,  and  that  we  must  reproduce  the  associated  activity  of  the  requisite 
fiaculties  many  times  before  the  result  will  certainly  foUo'w,  just  as  we 
must  repeat  the  movement  in  dancing  or  skating  many  tiiHea  before  we 
become  roaster  of  it.  Accordingly,  we  find  on  turning  to  a  new  subject, 
that  however  well  we  may  understand  it  by  one  perusal,  we  do  not  fully 
master  it,  except  by  dwelling  upon  it  again  and  again. 

**  The  necessity  of  being  in  private  what  we  wish  to  appear  in  public, 
springs  from  the  same  rule.  If  we  wish  to  be  polite,  just,  kind,  and  so- 
ciable, we  must  habitually  act  under  the  influence  of  the  corresponding 
sentiments  in  the  domestic  circle  and  in  every- day  lifd,  $ia  well  as  in  the 
company  of  strangers  and  on  great  occasions.  It  is  the  daily  practice 
which  gives  ready  activity  to  the  sentiments,  and  marks  the  character. 
If  we  indulge  in  vulgarities  of  speech  and  behaviour  at  home,  and  put 
on  politeness  merely  for  the  reception  of  strangers*  the  former  will  shine 
through  the  mask  which  is  intended  to  hide  them ;  because  the  habitual 
association  to  which  the  organs  and  fGU^ulties  have  been  accustomed,  can- 
not be  thus  controlled.  As  well  may  we  hope  to  excel  in  elegant  and 
graceful  dancing  by  the  daily  practice  of  every  awkward  attitoide.  In 
the  one  case,  as  in  the  other,  the  organs  must  not  only  be  assoeiated  in 
action  by  the  command  of  the  will,  but  they  must  be  habituated  to  the 
association  by  the  frequency  of  the  practice ;  a  fact  which  exposes  the 
ignorant  folly  of  those  parents  who  habitually  act  with  rudeaees  aad. 
caprice  towards  their  children,  and  then  chide  the  latter  for  unpolite  be- 
haviour towards  strangers."— *pp.  296— <298. 

Dt.  Combe  complains,  and  not  without  eanse,  that  the  {tired 
exercise  and  training  of  the  moral  and  religious  senttmenta  and 
affections  upon  their  own  objects,  are  little  thought  of  as  essential 
to  their  full  and  vigorous  developefnent.  Parents  and  teachers,  he 
says,  too  often  forget  that  the  sentiments /i?e/^  and  do  not  reason, 

'*  What  kind  of  moral  eduation  is  that,  for  instance,  which,  while  the 
instructress  vilifies  the  physical  appetites  of  hunger  and  thirst,  and 
preaches  disregard  of  their  <Sraving3  and  of  the  gratifications  of  taste, 
leads  her  to  set  down  a  meal  to  her  boarders,  from  partaking  in  which 
she  betrays  the  strongest  desire  to  escape,  on  account  of  its  inferiority  to 
that  which  is  provided  for  herself  and  the  few  at  the  head  of  the  establish- 
ment ?  .  What  advances  in  morality  and  religion  can  be  expected  under 
the  charge  of  one,  who  says,  '  Do  tmio  others  as  you  wotUd  be  dofie  by* 
and  then  leaves  his  dependents  to  suffer  pain,  chilblains,  and  diisease, 
from  want  of  a  fire  to  warm  the  room  in  which  they  sit,  he  himself  com- 


The  Principles  of  Physiofogy.  ^  195 

rng  into  it  with  features  flushed  hy  the  heat  of  the  blazing  fire,  which,  for 
weefcft,  has  been  provided  for  his  comfort  in  his  own  apaiiment  ?  What 
generosity  of  feeling  can  arise  from  the  superintendence  of  a  teacher^ 
who,  though  liberally  paid  for  the  food  of  her  pupils,  and,  with  moral 
precepts  oa  her  lips,  fiatisftea  the  cravings  of  Nature  in  the  long  intervals 
between  meals,  only  at  the  expense  of  l^e  pence  constituting  the  pockei-^ 
money  of  the  scholar  ? — the  food  in  this  case  being  denied,  not  beoause  it 
ia  considered  improper, — ^for  were  that  the  case,  it  would  be  a  dereliction 
of  duty  to  give  it  on  any  terms, — but  from  sheer  meanness  and  cupidity. 
AVhat  kind  of  moral  duties  does  the  parent  encourage,  who,  recommend- 
ing kindness,  openness,  and  justice,  tricks  the  child  into  the  confession  of 
faults,  and  t)ien  basely  punishes  it,  having  previously  promised  forgive* 
ncss  ?  And  how  is  openness  best  encouraged, — by  practising  it  in  con- 
duct, or  by  neglecting  it  in  practice,  but  praising  it  in  words  ?  Is  it  to 
be  cultivated  by  thrusting  suspicions  in  the  face  of  honest  intentions  ? 
And  how  is  justice  to  be  cultivated  by  a  guardian  who  speaks  about 
it,  recommends  it,  and  in  practice  charges  each  of  four  pupils  the 
whole  fare  of  a  hackney  coach  ?  Or  what  kind  of  moral  education  is  that 
which  says, '  Do  as  J  hid  you^  and  I  will  give  you  sweetmeats  or  moneys 
or  I  will  tell  your  mamma  how  good  you  were ;'  holding  out  the  loAvest 
and  most  selfish  propensities  as  the  motives  to  moral  conduct !  Did  space 
permit,  I  might  indeed  pursue  the  whole  round  of  moral  and  religious 
duties,  and  ask  similar  questions  at  each.  But  it  is  needless.  These  ex- 
amples will  suffice  ;  and  I  give  them  not  aa  applicable  generally  either  to 
parents  or  teachers,  but  simply  as  individual  instances  from  among  both, 
which  have  came  within  the  sjphere  of  my  own  knowledge,  and  which 
bear  directly  upon  the  principle  under  diacusaion." — pp.  d04»-6. 

In  His  ninth  chapter^  the  author  in  treating  of  the  causes  of  bad 
health,  maintains  that  it  is  not  always  the  result  of  moral  or  im- 
moral conduct^  nor  of  accident^  but  often  of  the  infringement  of  the 
laws  of  organization. 

*'  Considering  that  the  human  frame  is  constructed  to  endure,  in  many 
cases,  for  sixty,  seventy,  or  eighty  years,  it  must  seem  extraordinary  to  a 
reflecting  miziid,  that,  in  some  situations,  one-half  of  all  who  are  born 
should  die  before  attaining  maturity;  and  that,  of  1000  infants  bom  and 
reared  in  London,  650  die  before  the  age  of  ten  years.  It  is  impossible  to 
auypoae  that  such  a  rate  of  mortality  was  designed  by  the  Creator  as  the 
unsvoidable  fate  of  man;  for,  by  the  gradual  improvement  of  society  and 
a  ck)ser  observance  of  the  organic  laws,  the  proportion  of  deaths  in  early 
life  has  already  been  greatly  reduced.  A  hundred  years  ago,  when  the 
pauper  infants  of  London  were  received  and  brought  up  in  the  work- 
houses, amidst  impure  air,  crowding,  and  want  of  proper  food,  not  above 
one  in  twenty-four  lived  to  be  a  year  old ;  so  that  out  of  2800  received 
Rito  them,  2690  died  yearly.  But  when  the  conditions  of  health  came  to 
be  a  little  better  understood,  and  an  act  of  Parliament  was  obtained 
obliging  the  parish  officers  to  send  the  infants  to  nurse  in  the  country, 
tlus  frightful  mortality  was  reduced  to  450,  instead  of  upwards  of  2600 ! 
Can  evidence  stronger  than  this  ,be  required  to  prove  that  bad  health  fre- 
qiiently  arises  from  causes  which  man  may  often  be  able  to  discover  and 
remove,  and  which,  therefore,  it  is  his  bounden  duty  to  investigate  and 
aToid  by  every  means  which  Providence  has  placed  within  his  reach  ?*'*-^ 
pp.  330,  331.  p  2 


1 96  The  Principles  of\Phy»ioIogy . 

Amongst  various  examples  in  proof  of  his  doctrine,  that  the  pro- 
gress of  knowledge  has  done  much  to  deliver  us  from  many  scourges 
considered  by  our  forefathers  as  the  unavoidable  dispensations  of  an 
inscrutable  providence^  he  mentions  that — 

**  So  lately  as  the  middle  of  last  century,  ag^e  was  so  prevalent  in  many 
parts  of  Britain  where  it  is  now  never  seen,  that  our  ancestors  looked 
upon  an  attack  of  it  as  a  kind  of  necessary  evil,  from  which  they  could 
never  hope  to  be  delivered.  In  this  instance,  also,  farther  experience  has 
shewn  that  Providence  was  not  in  fault.  By  draining  the  land,  remov- 
ing dunghills,  building  better  houses  in  better  situations,  and  obtaining 
better  food  and  warmer  clothing,  it  appears  that  generations  now  succeed 
(;ach  other,  living  on  the  very  same  soil,  without  a  single  case  of  ague 
ever  occurring,  where,  a  century  ago,  every  man,  woman,  and  child  were 
almost  sure  to  suffer  from  it  at  one  time  or  other  of  their  lives;  thus 
again  shewing  how  much  man  may  do  for  the  preservation  of  his  health 
and  the  improvement  of  his  condition,  when  his  conduct  is  directed  by 
knowledge  and  sound  principles." — ^p.  333. 

The  last  chapter  of  the  book  is  on  the  application  of  the  princi- 
ples of  physiology  to  the  amelioration  of  the  condition  of  the  insane^ 
and  can  only  be  done  juctice  to,  by  a  careful  perusal.  We  will  not 
mar  the  efiect  of  that  which  is  to  be  extracted  by  any  remarks  of 
our  own. 

*^  If  the  state  and  management  of  public  and  private  asylums  for  the 
reception  of  this  class  of  patients  be  examined  with  reference  to  the  con- 
ditions of  health  already  explained  in  treating  of  the  respiratory,  muscular 
and  nervous  systems,  it  cannot  fail  to  strike  the  reflecting  observer,  that 
w^hilc  in  many  institutions  the  most  laudable  zeal  has  been  shewn  for  the 
physical  health  and  comfort  of  the  patients,  comparatively  little  has  been 
accomplislied,  or  even  attempted,  with  the  direct  purpose  of  correcting  the 
morbid  action  of  the  brain,  and  restoring  the  mental  functions.  We  have 
now,  inmost  asylums,  clean  and  well  ventilated  apartments,  baths  of 
various  descriptions,  abundant  supplies  of  nourishing  food,  and  a  better 
system  of  classification ;  the  furious  and  the  depressed  being  no  longer 
subjected  to  each  other's  influence  and  society :  and  the  result  has  been, 
that  in  so  far  as  these  important  conditions  arc  favourable  to  the  general 
health,  and  to  that  of  the  nervous  system  in  particular,  recovery  has  been 
promoted,  and  personal  comfort  secured.  But  in  so  far  as  regards  the 
systematic  employment  of  what  is  called  active  moral  treatment,  and  its 
adaptation  to  particular  cases,  a  great  deal  more  remains  to  be  done  than 
has  hitherto  been  considered  necessary.  This  will  be  apparent  on  reflect- 
ing how  extremely  influential  the  regular  employment  of  the  various  feel- 
ings, affections,  and  intellectual  powers  is  on  the  health  of  the  brain,  and 
how  few  asylums  possess  any  adequate  provision  for  effecting  this  most 
desirable  object.  If  want  of  occupation,  and  the  absence  oi  objects  of 
interest,  be,  as  we  have  seen,  suflicient  to  destroy  the  health  of  a  soimd 
organ,  the  same  causes  must  be  not  less  influential  in  retarding  the  re- 
covery of  one  already  diseased.  Hence  it  becomes  an  object  of  extreme 
importance  in  establishments  for  the  insane,  to  provide  the  necessary 
means  for  encouraging  the  healthy  and  regular  exercise  of  the  various 
bodily  and  mental  powers ;  and  for  drawing  out  as  it  were,  and  directing 
the  various  affections,  feelings,  and  intellectual  faculties  to  their  proper 


Lardmr's  Cabinet  CfchpseOa.  197 

^bjeets,  tills  being  a  condition  essential,  in  a  higher  degree,  than  any  other 
to  the  success  of  our  curative  measures. 

**  As  nuttters  now  stand,  the  higher  classes  of  lunatics  are  in  one  sense 
the  most  unfortunate  of  all.  Accustomed  at  home  to  the  reSnement  of 
educated  and  intelligent  society,  to  the  enjoyments  arising  from  change 
of  scene,  to  horse  and  carriage  exercise,  and  to  the  command  of  numerous 
sources  of  interest,  they  find  themselves  transported  to  an  asylum  where 
they  may  no  doubt  be  treated  with  kindness,  but  where  they  are  necessa- 
rily cut  off  from  many  of  the  comforts  to  which  they  have  been  accus- 
tomed, and  must  encounter  prejudices,  feelings,  and  modes  of  thinking 
and  acting,  to  which  they  are  strangers,  and  with  which  they  can  have  no 
sympathy.  Being  there  restricted  almost  exclusively  to  the  society  of 
keepers,  who,  from  their  rank,  education,  and  manners,  cannot  be  consi 
dered  qualified  to  gain  their  confidence  or  elicit  friendly  interchange  of 
sentimeijit,  the  patients  are,  in  a  great  measure,  deprived  of  that  beneficial 
intercourse  with  sound  minds  which  is  indispensable  to  health  and  of  the 
numerous  opportunities  which  such  intercourse  presents  for  gradually 
stirring  up  new  interests,  and  leading  to  new  trains  of  thought.  The 
medical  attendant,  indeed,  is  often  the  only  being  to  whom  patients  of  this 
class  can  freely  unburden  their  minds,  and  from  whom  they  can  seek 
comfort;  but  unfortunately  m  most  establishments  his  visits  arc  so  few 
and  short,  that  they  can  scarcely  be  reckoned  as  part  of  an  efficient  moral 
regimen.** — pp.  374 — 6. 

Who  does  not  see  from  these  quotations  the  value  of  Dr.  Combe's 
views  and  suggestions^  and  that  the  higher  classes  are  in  a  remark- 
able degree  interested  in  the  latter  branch  of  his  work?  The 
regimen  and  ameliorations  he  points  out  as  respects  the  insane 
speak  home  to  the  conviction  of  the  mind^  as  soon  as  they  are 
known.  We  hope  he  will  continue  his  exertions  in  the  work  of  en- 
lightened love,  which  he  has  so  well  commenced ;  nor  can  it  be 
that  his  labour  shall  be  in  vain.  Philanthropists  are  not  rare  in 
this  country ;  it  is  only  the  clear  headed,  the  sound  thinking,  that 
are  scarce.  Upon  the  whole^  it  must  be  said,  that  the  wonderful 
and  fearfiil  construction  of  man's  constitution  is  with  vast  effect 
tanght  by  the  unassuming  volume  that  we  now  bid  God  speed  to. 


AaT.  V. — Lardn€r*9  Cabinet  Cyclopadia — Europe  during  the  Middle  Ages, 

Vol.  IV.     Longman  and  Co.   1884. 

The  race  of  popular  and  cheap  publications,  such  as  Libraries, 
Cyclopaedias,  and  the  like,  which  of  late  years  have  been  so  nume- 
rous and  excellent,  forming  a  prominent  feature  in  our  times  in  the 
history  of  literature,  probably  have  not  presented  any  one  family 
more  worthy  of  fevour  than  that  fostered  by  Dr.  Lardner.  But 
the  same  symmetry  of  form  and  worth  of  character  do  not  belong  to 
every  member  of  a  family ;  and  seldom  is  it  found,  when  the  chil- 
dren are  many,  that  there  is  not  at  least  one  so  unlike  the  parents 
and  the  sisters  and  t^e  brothers,  as  to  lead  to  doubts  of  legitimacy, 
or  to  marvel  by  what  freak  of  nature  such  distortion  and  dissimi- 
larity arose.     In  Dr.  Lardner's  household,  the  specimen  now  before 


198  Larduer*s  CtAmet  Cyvhpadia* 

as  bas  saggeeted  these  obsetvationB,  and  shews  us,  that  he  wiH 

have,  among  his  feir  and  valuaUe  offtpring,  one  iH-favoiired,  fraif , 
and  faulty  individual  to  weep  over  so  long  as  he  lives. 

We  have  observed  the  feebleness,  the  inaccuracies  of  matter  and 
style,  and  the  bad  arrangements,  that  the  three  previous  volumes  of 
this  history  exhibited,  and  fondly,  but  vainly,  expected  that  some 
redeeming  change  might,  ere  it  was  closed,  appear,  to  turn  aside  or 
soften  this  censure,  so  richly  deserved.  But  the  thing  has  grown 
worse  and  worse,  and  no  virtuous  indulgence  can  longer  permit  it  to 
escape  exposure.  One  thing  we  are  <}uite  sure  of,  that  the  learned 
conductor  of  the  Cabinet  Cydc^idedia  never  perused  the  present  vo- 
lume  before  it  went  to  the  press,  and  never  after  it  was  printed,  be- 
fore being  published.  Let  Dr.  Lardner  not  be  bo  negligent  in 
future,  if  not  for  the  sake  of  the  public,  at  least  for  his  own.  He 
cannot  yet  afford  to  do  nothing,  or  worse  than  nothing.  That  this 
which  we  have  now  before  us  is  not  a  whit  better  than  what  we  have 
called  it,  must  be  felt  by  every  one  who  examines  it. 

Th3  history  of  Europe  during  the  Middle  Ages  one  is  apt  to 
consider  as  a  fine  field  for  an  energetic  and  tastefiil  compiler,  where 
the  materials,  not  merely  aflforded  by  those  times  themfielves,  but 
the  labours  of  historians,  are  now-a-days  so  rich,  that  boys  gene- 
rally hurry  to  it,  in  their  lighter  readings,  as  to  a  land  of  romance. 
Ana  is  it  not  such  a  land  r  Think  of  one  of  its  boundaries — we 
mean  the  subversion  of  the  Western  Roman  Empire !  Again,  in 
its  course  it  presents  the  progress  of  ecclesiastical  power,  wes^th, 
and  ambition,  as  exhibited  in  the  primacy  of  the  see  of  Rome;  and 
the  ingenuities  and  beauties  of  the  Canon  Law.  A  still  more 
attractive  and  stirring  order  of  events  belong  to  the  feudal  charac- 
ter of  those  ages ;  such  as  the  establishment  of  tenures,  the  cere* 
monies  of  homage  and  investiture,  the  military  services,  and  the 
gallantries,  that  to  this  hour  colour  and  control  many  of  our  habits 
and  institutions.  The  Crusades,  the  tilts,  and  tournaments,  of 
feudal  times,  are  the  theme  of  every  young  and  chivahrous  spirit. 
Nor  is  the  other  limit  less  worthy  of  extraordinary  notice,  when  the 
principal  states  of  Europe,  upon  the  invasion  of  Naples  by  Charles 
VIII.,  engaged  in  relations  of  alliance  or  hostility,  that  may  be  de- 
uced to  the  present  day,  and  form  a  point  at  wludi  every  man  who 
traces  backward  its  political  history  will  be  obliged  to  pause.  But 
even  the  darkness  of  the  middle  ages  is  pregnant  with  lessons  of 
great  moment.  If  during  a  golden  era  we  behold  how  high  man 
may  rise  as  an  intellectual  being,  living,  as  it  were,  in  the  past  and 
in  the  future ;  at  other  times  and  eras,  we  cannot  but  exclaim  how 
irrational,  prostrated,  and  obscured  are  all  his  doings  and  powers  ! 
Nor  can  the  contemplatioa  of  him  in  all  his  honours  be  approached 
by  any  other  view  so  awakening  as  that  of  his  degradation »  In  this 
sense  the  middle  ages  are  of  immense  concern,  presenting  volumes 
of  arresting  facts,  and  suggesting  doctrines  of  surpassing  \  aluc. 


Lwfdt^'s  Caifmet  C^^ksmtiv.  199 

But  to  oooae  to  tkd  Cabinet  CydopaBcUa;  we  had  set  ourselves  to 
^yEBgame  the  table  at  the  beginning  of  the  volume  before  us,  called 
anmlytical  and  chronological y  that,  through  its  aid,  we  might  be 
enabled  speedily  to  close  an  attempt  of  our  own  at  a  graphic  history 
of  the  miadle  ages,  as  they  were  f^Qed  up  by  European  events.  But 
finding  this  table  a  mass  of  confusion,  ana  the  matters  noted  to  be 
singularly  uninteresting  for  a  volume  purporting  to  be  exclusivelv 
devoted  to  England  in  the  dawn  of  her  greatness  (which,  although 
for  a  long  time  dreary,  was  continually  by  degrees  opening  and  ap- 
jproaching  the  glorv  of  her  mid-day  light),  we  travelled  into  the 
volume  itself.  If,  however,  the  contents,  as  indicated  by  this  analy- 
tical tabk,  were  poor  and  sadly  jumbled,  a  direct  perusal  of  them 
conviiiced>us  that  they  had  therein  been  treated  with  ample  justice. 
.So  that,  with  a  strong  persuasion  that  our  preface  and  sketch  de- 
served a  better  union,  and  even  in  despair  of  making  any  thing  of 
the  materials  <rf  this  volume  by  itself,  in  the  way  of  compiling  a 
^x>ngruous  or  int^esting  article  for  our  readers,  notiung  was  left  for 
ua  but  to  level  against  it  our  indiscriminate  blame;  or,  at  least,  if 
tiioe  be  a  single  feature  in  the  volume  deserving  of  praise,  it  is  not 
attributable  to  the  author,  but  in  spite  ci  him. 

It  is  not  possible  that  a  volume  made  up  of  extmcts  and  quota^ 
lions  ficom  Hnnie,  Hallam,  Lingord,  Tomer,  Conybeave,  &c.,  ean 
be  destitute  of  good  things.  But,  in  so  far  as  the  compiler  is  ocm- 
earned,  we  have  found  nothing  tolerable ;  for  every  one  must  per- 
ceive how  bad  judgment  may  ii^ure  exceUeoee  by  certain  juxta-posi- 
tiona  and  dove-tailings,  mamng,  diajointiQg,  and  obscuring,  by 
turns,  whatever  is  handled  or  amnroached.  When  the  author  does 
speak  Ibr  himself  it  ia  in  a  turgid,  or  abrupt,  or  ungrammatical  style, 
that  qpoils  to  the  reader  that  which  is  meant  to  be  said.  We  have 
no  occasion  to  travel  through  the  volume,  anxiously  in  search  of 
faults,  but  may  .take  it  ad  aperhiram^  We  begin  at  the  beginning, 
however,  as  the  most  natural  and  obvious  point,  to  note  a  few,  and 
it  is  only  a  few,  that  we  purpose  to  notice,  of  clumsy,  blundering, 
-and  tasteless  passages.  The  volume  opens  with  a  cbai^  on  the 
inteUeotual  history  of  the  Anglo-Saxcms,  which  is  di^idea  into  three 
Ibrms — ^the  arts  of  life,  literature,  and  science.  The  author  is  mar- 
vellously succinct  with  hid  philosophy  on  the  arts  of  life,  and  we  put 
in. italics  some  of  his  happy  terms.  **  The  first  inventions  of  man 
will  regard  his  actual  wants ;  nor,  until  these  are  satisfied,  will  he 
have  leisure  or  inclination  for  comfinrts,  still  less  for  elegancies.  Of 
these,  the  first  concern  his  food,  and  the  skill  necessary  to  procure 
it.  On  the  cultivation  of  the  ground,  and  the  breeding  of  cattle, 
must  every  social  edifice  be  reared.  That  agriculture  and  rural 
economy  were  much  esteemed  by  the  Saxons  is  evident  from  the 
very  names  of  their  months."  This  is  the  theory—^tbe  first  of  the 
first,  the  simple  and  unique  edifice ^  atid  thai  which  was  much  es- 
teemed by  the  Saxons.    Discerning  men !  Now  for  the  practice  :'^ 


200  Lardiier*s  Cabinet  CyclopmHa. 

"  As  matiual  labour  was  still  exercised,  in  conformity  with  the  rule  of 
St.  Benedict,  by  the  religious,  they  vigorously  commenced  their  herculeaD 
task,  doubly  inspired  by  the  prospect  of  a  comfortable  support,  and  by  the 
motives  of  charity.  In  a  short  time  the  forests  were  felled,  marshes 
drained,  waste  lands  reclaimed,  bridges  erected,  roads  constructed;  plen- 
tiful harvests  started  even  from  the  fens  of  Lincolnshire,  and  waved  even 
on  the  desert  coast  of  Northumberland.  Their  example  stimulated  the 
industry  of  the  lay  proprietors;  and  whatever  improvements  they  intro- 
duced, were  soon  adopted  throughout  the  island. 

"The  produce  of  the  earth  and  the  flesh  of  their"  domestic  animals, 
especiaUy  of  their  brethren  the  swine,  appear  to  have  continued  the  only 
diet  of  the  Saxons,  until  the  time  of  St.  Wilfrid,  who  is  said  to  have  first 
taught  the  natives  of  Sussex  the  art  of  catching  and  cooking  fish.  Tbougii 
this  seems  improbable,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  fish  was  not  a  general 
article  of  food  before  this  time.  Afterwards  it  was  plentiful  enough. 
Of  eels,  especially,  we  read  in  abundance." — ^p.  6, 

How  very  curious  the  starting  even  of  these  plentiful  harvests 
from  the  fens  of  Lincolnshire,  and  waving  even  on  the  desert  coast 
of  Northumberland!  Our  interesting  ancestry^  the  Saxons^  are 
made  too,  to  have  been  honoured  by  a  distinguished  alliance,  wliich 
we  believe  heraldry  has  hitherto  neglected  to  name.  What  an  ia- 
tellectuid  fraternity  must  they  with  the  :swine  have  been  1  for  it  is 
the  intellectual  history  of  the  Anglo-Saxons  that  the  author  is  dia* 
cussing  and  elucidating.  Perhaps  the  eek  had  some  influence  ou 
4iieir  blood ;  since^  as. regarded  their  food,  he  says,  '^  of  eet3,  esper 
cially,  we  read  in  abundance ;"  in  abundance,  what  ?  we  are  not 
told ;  for  though  we  have  not  given  the  latter  part  of  the  sentence, 
it  in  no  way  afiects  the  construction  or  meaning  of  that  quoted. 

We  open  at  the  eighth  page,  and  find  it  said,  that  ^'  the  houses 
even  of  nobles  were  of  wood,'^  and  that  **  those  of  the  rich  appear 
to  have  been  extensive  enough ;  but  they  tong  were  rude^  low,  and 
uncomfortable  All  these  have  long  been  swept  away."  No 
schoolboy  would  long  write  in  this  fashion. 

Here  is  a  piece  of  criticism  on  an  Anglo-Saxon  poem. 

**  Nothing  can  equal  the  poverty  of  this  description, — ^if  that  may  be 
called  description  which  consists  only  of  vain  repetition  or  paraphrastic 
amplifications  of  scripture  language.  Such  repetitions,  such  paraphrastic 
amplifications,  must  have  been  peculiarly  acceptable  to  one  who  was  not 
animated  by  a  single  spark  of  invention.  The  subject  was  enough  to  call 
forth  a  flame,  wherever  genius  glowed." — p.  19. 

Our  author  is  now  upon  the  subject  of  literature,  and  is  severe  in 
his  strictures  on  repetitions  and  amplifications.  He  learnedly  uses 
the  expressions,  sparks  of  invention,  and  call  forth,  a  flame ;  yea, 
this  flame  is  to  come  from  a  genius  that  only  gloves.  But  there  is 
more  to  be  said  to  the  disparagement  of  poor  Caednion,  which 
happens  to  be  the  unlucky  poet's  name. 

''  Rude  as  was  the  age,  we  were  prepared  to  expect  something  better 
.than  this.  If  the  learned  reader  will  compare  the  paraphrase  of  Caed- 
mon  with  the  poems  of  St.  Avitus  of  Vienne,  who  lived  a  century  and 


a  halC  before  the  Saxon;  he  will  be  surprised  at  the  contrast :  the  one  is  all 
n^k^ness,  rude,  sterile,  unimpressive;  the  other  often  catches  a  gleam 
of  the  fire  which  glowed  in  the  breast  of  Virgil." — pp.  19,  20. 

Oar  readers  have  here  a  good  illustration  of  nakedpess  and  ste- 
rility^ notwithstanding  the  attempt  to  lend  them  a  peep  into  Virgil- a 
breast,  which  glowed  with  Jire  that  gleamed. 

The  second  chapter  in  the  volume,  on  the  ReUgious  and  Intellec- 
taal  History  of  England,  from  the  Norman  Conquest  to  the  acces- 
sion of  Henry  VII.,  begins  with  these  precise  terms: — 

.  "  For  the  sake  of  clearness,  no  less  than  the  natural  connection  of  the 
subject,  we  shall  divide  the  present  chapter  into  three  parts.  We  shall 
consider,  I.  The  Chnrch,  and  the  writers  who  are  purely  ecclesiastical. 
II.  Literature.  III.  Philosophy  and  Science.  But  these  subjects  are 
identical,  and  capable  of  classification  not  under  three  heads  but  one.*' — 
p.  135. 

And  yet  the  author  treats  them  under  three  heads. 

We  declare  that  no  part  of  the  volume  is  free  of  such  blunders, 
carelessness,  and  confusion,  as  those  we  have  at  perfect  random  now 
pointed  out.  There  is  a  display  of  notes,  many  of  which  talk  widely 
of  research  and  labour ;  but  what  satis&ction  can  be  obtained  in  a 
work  which  abounds  with  such  stuff  as  these  extracts  present? 
Besides,  the  undue  space  allowed  to  old  poems  and  fragments,  that 
not  one  of  a  thousand  cares  about,  to  the  neglect  of  more  valuable 
materials,  to  which  there  is  easy  access,  or  of  a  tasteful  and  judicious 
condensation  of  that  which  in  detail  is  repulsive,  cannot  be  excused. 

We  shall  relieve  oursdves  and  our  readers  of  the  author's  labours, 
by  quoting  two  long  extracts  which  he  himself  has  transcribed, 
respecting  two  celebrated  men  that  figured  many  centuries  ago  in 
England.  The  first  regards  the  death  of  Bede,  emphatically  called 
the  Venerable,  who  died  in  the  year  735,  and  is  by  his  disciple 
Cuthbert,  who  was  present  at  the  scene. 

'VHe  was  attacked  with  great  difficulty  of  breathing,  yet  without  pain, 
about  two  weeks  before  Easter.  Yet  af^rwards  he  was  joyful  and  merry, 
giving  thanks  imto  God  day  and  night,  nay  hourly,  until  Ascension  day 
arrived.  Daily  did  he  give  lessons  to  us  lus  disciples,  and  the  residue  of 
each  day  he  passed  in  the  singing  of  psalms.  The  whole  night,  except 
when  a  little  slnmber  intervened,  he  watched,  always  joyful,  always  prais- 
ing God.  If  sleep  for  a  moment  overtook  him,  he  did  not  fail,  on  rousing, 
to  resume  his  wonted  devotions,  and  with  outstretched  hands  to  utter  hts 
gratitude  to  heaven.  O  blessed  man  I  Often  did  he  repeat  that  saying 
of  the  apostle  Paul,  It  is  a  fearful  tiung  to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  living 
God!  and  many  other  passages  of  Scripture,  all  fitted  to  rouse  iis  from 
the  sleep  of  our  minds,  and  to  impress  us  with  our  last  end.  And  some 
things  also  he  spoke  in  our  own,  the  English  language,  for  he  was  well 
versed  in  our  songs:  and  putting  his  thoughts  into  English  verse  he  feel- 
ingly said :  For  so  necessary  a  journey,  no  man  can  be  tooprtuient;  none 
can  reflect  too  much  on  the  good  or  evil  he  has  done;  none  can  be  too 
solicitous  about  the  judgment  which  after  his  death  his  spirit  must 
receive.    According  to  our  custom  and  his  he  sang  the  Antiphonies,  of 


202  ImHrmr'^  CMtmi  O^wUfmih. 

wMcb  one  is,  O  kimg  of  flory,  Lord  of  wiriuei^  who  em  tkii  d^  didit 
triwnpftanify  aseend  to  keaven^Jeame  us  not  orpkani,.bui  samd  Mr  tks 
promise  of  ike  Foiher  the  Spirit  of  Truth!  Alielujal  And  wbcnlke 
eaine  to  the  worda,  leave  w  not  orphans^  he  buist  into  tears  and  wept 
tpucby  and  seeing  this  we  wept  with  him.  Again  we  readt  a^in  we 
wept;  indeed  we  always  wept.  In  such  |(4)dly  employment  we  passed 
the  qninquagesizoal  days  until  the  day  before  mentioned  (Ascension),  he 
rejoicing  and  thanking  God  that  he  was  thus  afflicted.  For  he  often 
repeated :  God  scour geth  every  son  whom  he  receiveth  I  with  many  other 
passages  from  Scripture.  Ana  he  repeated  the  saying  of  St.  Ambrose, 
Non  sie  vixi  ut  me  pudeat  inier  vas  vivere^  ted  nee  mori  Umeo^  quia 
bonum  Dominum  habemm/s.  And  daring  this  time  be  was  oceufied  not 
only  in  teaching  us,  but  on  two  wofks  which  weli  deserve  to  be  remMD- 
bered :  the  first  was  die  Gospel  of  6t.  John,  which  he  had  tnmslated  into 
English  for  the  benefit  of  the  church,  as  far  as  that  passage,  but  what  are 
they  among  so  many?  the  other  consisted  of  extracts  from  the  books  of 
Bishop  Isidore.  *I  do  not  wish  my  disciples  to  read  lies,  that  after  my 
death  they  should  labour  in  vain.'  On  the  arrival  of  the  third  feria  before 
the  Ascension,  his  breathinff  became  more  painful,  and  a  little  swelling 
appeared  in  his  feet.  Yet,  tor  all  that,  he  taught  and  dictated  with  cheer- 
fulness, sometimes  observing,  •^Leam  quickly,  for  I  know  not  how  long  I 
may  live;  how  soon  my  Maker  may  call  mer  To  usf  it  seemed  as  if  he 
well  knew  his  approaching  end.  The  next  night  he  posMd  waMldnf^oad 
giving  thanks.  And  on  the  momnig,  which  was  the  fourth  fcria,  be  told 
us  diligently  to  continue  what  we  had  begun.  Aad  this  being  done^  we 
walked,  as  the  custom  of  the  day  required,  until  the  third  hour,  with  tbe 
relica  of  the  saints.  But  one  of  va  remained  with  him,  and  said  to  him 
*  Dear  Master,  one  little  chapter  yet  remaina:  will  it  not  pain  you  to  be 
aaked  any  more  questiixiB?'— 'Nol  take  thy  pen,  prepare  it,  and  write 
quickly] '  And  this  he  did.  And  at  the  ninthliour  the  master  said  unto 
me,  'I  have  some  precious  things  in  my  little  chest,  some  pepper,  orarias, 
and  incense;  run  quickly  and  bring  the  presbyters  of  our  monastexv,  and 
I  will  distribute  among  them  what  God  has  given  to  me.  The  rich  men 
of  this  world  delight  to  make  presents  of  gold,  silver,  and  other  precious 
things:  I  also  with  much  affection  and  joy  wiU  give  to  my  brethren  the 
gifts  which  I  have  received  from  Heaven/  And  he  addressed  every  one 
by  name,  beseeching  and  admonishing  them  to  say  nasseaaad  to  ]iray  ior 
him,  which  they  willingly  promised.  And  they  all  mourned  and  wept, 
when  he  said  that  they  should  see  his  faoe  no  more  in  this  worid;  U^ttbey 
rejoiced  in  that  he  said,  *  The  time  is  come  when  I  vnusi  return  to  Han 
who  created  me  out  of  nothing!  Long  have  Ilived ;  well  my  merciftil 
Judge  foresaw  the  tenour  of  my  life.  The  time  of  my  departure  iset 
Imnd;  1  long  to  be  dibsolved  and  to  be  with  Christ'  Those  and  tmay 
other  words  he  spoke  with  much  cheerfulness.  And  when  it  drew  to- 
wards evening  the  youth  before  mentioned  said,  *Dear  Master,  one  sen- 
tence yet  remains!' — 'Write  it  quickly  I*  was  the  reply.  Immediately 
afterwards  the  youth  observed,  *  It  is  now  finnshed.'  He  rejoined,  '  Well 
and  truly  hast  thon  spoke;  it  <>  finished  1  Now  tske  my  head  in  thine 
hands,  and  turn  me  towards  the  holy  place  where  I  was  wont  to  franr,  tbatt 
sitting  I  may  call  on  my  Father ! '  Wherefore,  being  hiid  on  the  ftoor  of 
the  cell,  he  chaunted  Gloria  Patri,  et  FUto^  et  Spititw  Sanoto!  And  no 
sooner  had  he  repeated  the  concluding  words  S^ritui  Sanelo^  than  his 


soul  wmged  its  fKglit  to  the  celestial  kingdom.  All  who  witnessed  the 
deHth  of  this  blessed'fkther,  said  that  they  had  never  seen  any  other  man 
end  life  with  such  dcTotion  and  tranquillity.'' — pp.  95 — 97. 

The  second  of  our  extracts  refers  to  Thomas  A  Becket,  and  the 
yeaj  1165.  It  is  well  known  that  Henry  II.  raised  him  from  the 
chancellorship  to  the  primacy  of  Exigland^  calculating  on  his  com- 
pliance in  certain  designs,  that  the  king  cherished,  to  check  the 
usurpations  of  the  clergy ;  but  that  Beoket  withstood  his  coyTd  mas* 
ter,  and  even  intimated  that  it  did  not  become  him  to  intermeddle  in 
the  aiiairs  of  the  church.  The  mptare  between  them  at  last  grew  to 
such  a  vnagnitude  as  to  obliterate  every  thing  like  friendship :  the 
primate^s  dignity  and  haughtiness,  and  the  king's  anger  and  re- 
venge, were  measureless.  Heavy  sums  of  money  were  demanded 
of  the  churchman,  which  he  had  received  from  the  vacant  ecclesias- 
tical dignities  during  his  chancellorship;  the  other  prelates  were 
courtiers,  and  counseled  him  to  submit ;  but  he  braved  the  utmost 
efibrts  of  royal  indignation.  The  following  passage  is  from  Dr. 
Southey's  Book  of  the  Church. 

**  As  soon  as  tiie  bishops  left  faim,  he  went  into  the  churchy  and  there  at 
Bt.  Stephen's  aHar  performed  the  mass  appointed  for  that  martyr's  day, 
bcgimiiiig  with  t^se  words:  Princes  s€Bte  and  spake  against  me:  and  as 
if-thia  did  not. sufficiently  maaifest  his  readiness  to  endure  martyrdcKn,  he 
cansed  a  verse  of  the  psalms  to  he.  snag,  which  could  hot  be  mistaken  as 
to  its  intended  application:  The  kings  of  the  earth  stand  up^  and  the 
riders  take  ctnmsel  together  agatnst  the  Lord  and  against  his  emointed. 
Then,  having  secretly  provided  himself  with  a  consecrated  wafer,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  the  great  council,  and  at  the  door  took  the  silver  cross  from  the 
ehaplaio,  who  according  to  custom  was  bearing  it  before  him.  Then 
pay^ing  OB  he  entered  the  assembly  and  took  his  seat  m  silenca,  holding 
the  cross  before  him.  If  Becket  at  this  time  afitually- thought  his  life 
in  danger,' the  hie  which  he  afterwards  met  may  prove  that  the  appre* 
henaion  was  not  so  unreasonable  as  it  might  otherwise  be  deoned. 
Whether  he  entectained  such  fear  or  not,  it  was  plainly  his  intention  to  aet 
as  if  he  did :  ahoukl  he  provoke  the  blow -which  he  seemed  to  expect,  he  was 
steady  to  meet  it  with  becoiaing  dignity  and  characteristic  conraget  in  the 
more  likely  case  that  the  unusnal  manner  of  his  ai^aranoe  could  confuae 
the  king's  counsels,  something  might  occur  of  which  he  nught  take 
advantage.  Ccnudering,  therefore,  Becket's  teaiper  and  opiitionft,  tibe 
meaaitre  was  as  judicious  as  it  was  bold.  Henry  was  no  sooner  hiformed 
in  what  attitude  the  priest  was  approaching,  then  he  rose  hastily  fn>m  fads 
seat  and  retired  into  an  inaer  room,  whither  he  summoned  ail  the  other 
lords,  spiritual  and  temporal,  and  com^ained  to  them  of  this  aet  ^i  defi- 
ance. The  great  council,  as  well  as  the  king,  regarded  it  as  a  deiibenle 
inanity  studied  lor  the  purpose  oi  throwing  upon  them  the  imputation  of 
some  treacherous  purpose.  Henry's  violent  temper  was  eitasperated  tQ 
such  a  pitch,  that  iJie  Archbosfaopof  York  tnembled  far  Beeket's  life,  and 
departed,  wkh  his  chaplain,  dreading  what  might  ensue.  The  Bishop  c^ 
Exeter  hastened  fesjrfuUy  to  the  primate,  and  besought  him  to  have  pi^ 
on  himself  and  his  brethren,  who  were  all  in  danger  of  perishing  on  his 
acoouut.    Becket,  eyeing  him  with  stern  contempt,  repUed,  '  Fly  then! 


i04  Lardner*9CabiMet  Cyckpaiia. 

thou  canst  not  understand  the  things  which  are  of  God.'  And  tie  re- 
mained unmoved,  holding  the  cross,  and  awaiting  what  might  befal.  His 
part  was  not  difficult  after  it  had  once  been  taken:  the  straight  path  is 
always  easy.  But  Henry  was  thoroughly  perplexed.  The  general  sense 
of  the  great  council  was,  that  the  primate's  present  conduct  was  an 
affront  to  the  king  and  the  peers;  that  Henry  had  drawn  it  on  himself  by 
elevating  such  a  person  to  that  high  and  unmerited  station ;  and  that,  for 
ingratitude  and  breach  of  fealty,  Becket  ought  to  be  impeached  of  perjury 
and  high  treason.  Not  from  moderation,  but  with  the  hope  of  avoiding 
the  embarrassments  which  he  foresaw  in  that  mode  of  proceeding,  Henry 
rejected  their  opinion,  and  reverting  to  his  ])ecuniary  chaises,  sent  to 
demand  of  the  primate  whether  upon  that  matter  he  would  stand  to  the 
judgment  of  the  court.  Becket  peremptorily  refused,  and  it  was  then 
agam  proposed  to  attaint  him.  But  the  bishops  dared  not  proceed  to  this, 
because  he  had  appealed  to  the  pope ;  and  they  knew  the  power  of  the 
Roman  see  too  well  not  to  be  fearful  of  offending  it.  They  besought  the 
king  that  he  would  let  them  appeal  to  Rome  against  the  primate,  on  the 
score  of  his  perjury;  promising,  that  if  they  might  be  excused  from  con- 
curring with  the  temporal  lords  in  the  sentence  which  was  to  bo  past, 
they  would  use  their  utmost  endeavours  for  persuading  the  pope  to  depose 
him  from  the  primacy.  The  king  unwillingly  consented :  upon  which 
they  repaired  to  Becket,  and  pronouncing  him  guilty  of  perjury  at  having 
broken  his  fealty,  they  renounced  their  obeilience  to  him,  placed  them- 
selves under  the  pope's  protection  against  him,  and  cited  him  before  the 
pope  to  answer  the  accusation.  His  only  reply  was,  *  I  hear  what  you 
say  I '  He  could  not  have  had  any  thing  more  conformable  to  his  own 
views  and  wishes.  The  prelates  then  took  their  seats  in  the  opposite  side 
of  the  hall.  Meantime  the  temporal  peers  pronounced  him  guilty  of  per- 
jurv  and  treason;  and  leaving  the  inner  chamber,  where  their  resolution 
had  been  passed,  came  to  notify  it  to  the  accused.  The  alternative,  how- 
ever, of  rendering  his  accounts  and  dischai^ing  the  balance,  was  still  to 
be  allowed  him;  and  Leicester,  as  chief  justiciary,  called  upon  him  to 
come  before  the  king  and  do  this. — 'otherwise,'  said  he,  'hear  yonr 
sentence.'  '  My  sentence,'  exclaimed  Becket,  rising  from  his  seat:  '  Nay, 
sir  earl,  hear  me  first !  You  are  not  ignorant  how  ^tthfully,  according 
to  the  things  of  this  world,  I  served  my  k)rd  the  king,  in  consideration  ^ 
which  service  it  pleased  him  to  raise  me  to  the  primacy, — God  knows, 
against  my  will,  for  I  knew  my  own  unfitness,  and  rather  for  love  of  him 
than  of  God,  consented ;  which  is  this  day  sufficiently  made  evident,  see- 
ing that  God  withdraws  from  me  both  himself  and  the  king  also.  It  was 
asked  at  my  election,  in  presence  of  Prince  Henry,  unto  whom  that 
charge  had  been  committed,  in  what  manner  [  was  g^ven  to  the  church: 
and  the  answer,  free  and  discharged  from  all  bonds  of  the  court.  Being 
therefore  thus  free  and  discharged,  I  am  not  bound  to  answer  concerning 
these  things,  nor  will  L'  The  earl  here  observed,  that  this  reply  was  very 
diiiferimt  from  what  had  before  been  given.  '  Listen,  my  son ! '  Becket 
pursued.  *•  Inasmuch  as  the  soul  is  of  more  worth  Uion  the  body,  by  so 
muchinore  are  you  bound  to  obey  God  and  me,  rather  than  an  earthly 
king.  Neither  by  law  nor  reason,  is  it  allowed  that  cfaiidren  should  judge 
or  condemn  their  father.  Wherefore,  I  disdain  the  king's  judgment  and 
yours,  and  that  of  all  the  other  peers, — ^being  only  to  be  jutted,  under 
God,  by  our  lord  the  pope,  to  whom  I  here  appeal  before  you  all,  com- 


Godunn*s  Lives  of  the  Necromancers.  205 

nritting  thexhurch  of  Canterbury,  my  order  and  dignity,  with  all  there- 
unto appertaining,  to  God's  protection  and  to  his.  In  like  manner,  my 
brethren  and  fellow-bishops,  you  who  have  chosen  to  obey  man  rather 
than  God,  I  cite  you  before  the  presence  of  our  lord  the  pope !  And, 
thus  relying  on  the  authority  of  the  catholic  church,  and  of  the  apostolic 
see,  I  depart  hence  I '  As  he  was  leaving  the  hall,  a  clamour  was  raised 
against  him,  and  some  there  were  reproached  him  as  a  perjured  traitor; 
upon  which  he  looked  fiercely  round,  and  said  with  a  loud  voice,  that 
were  it  not  forbidden  by  his  holy  orders,  he  would  defend  himself  by  arms 
against  those  who  dared  thus  to  accuse  him." — pp.  194 — 196. 

We  have  not  attempted  to  give  any  particular  account  of  this  vo- 
lume of  the  Cabinet  Cyclopaedia,  for  the  reasons  before  stated.  It 
seems  to  us  so  badly  composed^  imperfect,  and  nnsatis&ctory,  that 
we  conld  only  relieve  its  character  by  some  of  the  quotations  the 
author  has  availed  himself  of. 


Art.  VI.    Lives  of  the  Necromancers.     By  Wilujlm  Godwin. 

London :  J.  Mason.  1834. 

Necromancy  is  the  art  of  revealing  future  events  by  a  pretended 
communication  with  the  dead.  There  is  a  theory  that  this  im- 
pious superstition  and  imposture  had  its  origin  at  a  very  early 
period  in  the  land  of  Egypt,  and  had  been  thence  propagated  like 
many  other  arts  in  every  nation  which  ancient  history  has  made  us 
acquainted  with.  Of  its  early  existence  we  have  complete  evidence 
from  the  writings  of  Moses,  where  it  is  severely  condemned  as  an 
abomination  to  the  Lord.  It  appears  to  be  one  of  the  whoredoms 
to  which  Ezekiel  represents  his  countrymen  as  having  brought 
with  them  from  Egypt,  and  continued  to  practise  till  they  were  car- 
ried captives  into  Babylon. 

Phcsnicia,  Greece,  and  Rome,  of  course  e&sily  derived  whatever 
doctrines  and  articles  of  belief  distinguished  the  Egyptians.  In 
these  countries  and  others.  Necromancy  took  such  deep  root  as  to 
be  long  retained  after  the  establishment  of  Christianity,  which  is  so 
directly  calculated  to  dispel  such  a  delusion.  But  we  are  by  no 
means  satisfied  that  it  was  at  first  confined  to  Egypt,  or  that  it 
took  its  rise  in  any  one  country,  and  came  only  to  be  general,  from 
being  conveyed,  like  many  other  arts  and  sciences,  from  that  coun- 
try. Necromancy  seems  a  very  natural  delusion  amongst  an  ignor- 
ant people.  The  awfiil  circumstances  attendant  on  death,  the  silence, 
the  solemnities,  the  darkness,  which  necessarily  surround  the  dead, 
are  such  as  to  awaken  the  most  fancifiil  imaginings.  In  one  shape 
or  other,  we  believe  every  people  yet  discovered  have  believed  in 
some  supernatural  and  malignant  agencies,  that  not  only  con- 
trol the  destinies  of  man,  but  with  whom  certain  of  their  brethren 
held  a  more  than  ordinary  influence  and  connection.  "  No  sooner, " 
as  Mr.  Godwin  says,  '^  do  we  imagine  human  beings  invested  with 
these  wonderful  powers,  and  conceive  them  as  called  into  action  for 
the  most  malignant  purposes,  than  we  become  the  passive  and 


206  Godmih's  Ltoei  of  th%  Nwromancen. 

tenified  slav^B  of  the  creatnres  of  our  own  imaginations^  and  fear  to 
be  assailed  at  every  moment  by  beings  to  whose  power  we  dan  set 
no  limits^  and  whose  modes  of  hostility  no  human  sagacity  can  an* 
ticipate  and  provide  against." 

Still  we  think,  that  the  Egyptians  carried  their  belief  in  Necro- 
mancy to  a  more  elaborate  length,  surroimding  it  with  more  impos- 
ing and  learned  associations  than  any  other  people  of  great  antiquity. 
Tneir  burying  places  were  caves  and  immense  vaults  in  the  bowels 
of  the  earth,  which  were  well  suited  to  the  solemn  sadness  of  the 
survivinff  friends,  and  proper  receptacles  for  those  that  were  never 
more  to  behold  the  light.  It  was  no  doubt  firomthis  practice  that  the 
opinion  sprung  which  concluded  that  the  infernal  mansions  were  situ- 
ated somewhere  near  the  centre  of  the  earth,  which  the  Egyptians  be- 
lieved were  not  very  distant  from  its  surface.  In  those  dreary  caverns 
it  was  very  easy  for  such  adepts  as  the  Priests  of  Egypt  to  fabricate 
marvellous  scenes  which  were  displayed  before  the  initiated,  and  by 
them  described  to  the  million  of  the  people.  And  it  was  thas  and 
there  very  probably  that  the  magicians  withstood  Moses,  and  im- 

E)sed  upon  the  people.  Such  at  least,  if  we  remember  rightly,  is 
riant*s  conjecture.  It  is  no  hard  matter  to  understand  how  mir- 
rors might  be  introduced  and  illuminated,  or  how  prepared  objects 
and  responses  should  astonish  all,  not  in  the  secret  of  the  machina* 
tions.  For  it  appears  from  the  book  of  Exodus,  that  the  Israelitish 
women  were  in  the  wilderness  acquainted  with  the  use  of  mirrofs, 
and  therefore  undoubtedly  so  were  the  Egyptians. 

At  the  same  time,  though  much  imposture  was  practised  by  these 
adepts,  it  is  a  no  less  important  fact,  whilst  it  displays  human  nature 
in  a  striking  contrast,  that  '^the  human  creatures  who  pretend  to 
these  powers  have  often  been  found  as  completely  the  dupes  of  thii 
supernatural  machinery,  as  the  most  timia  wreteh  that  stands  in 
terror  at  lis  expected  operation;  and  no  phenomenon  has  been  more 
common  than  the  confession  of  these  allies  of  hell,  that  they  have 
verily  and  indeed  hold  commerce  and  formed  plots  and  conspiracies 
with  Satan : "  even  when  the  confession  brought  these  professors  to 
the  most  appalling  of  deaths.  So  that  there  is  a  great  ignoraiioe 
of  human  nature  discovered  on  the  part  of  those,  who  unifonnly 
impute  pure  hypocrisy  to  the  persons  tliat  practised  the  dark  art. 
The  mind  is  so  ductile,  that  whilst  ''we  trifle  with  the  sacredness 
of  truth,"  we.are  apt  at  length  to  believe  our  own  lie. 

Amongst  the  Israelites,  and  indeed  in  other  and  modem  nations, 
the  Necromancers  evocated  the  ghosts  of  the  dead  by  a  demon  on 
femihar  spirit,  which  they  had  at  their  command,  to  employ  spo&  an 
emergency ;  and  th^efore  Saul  desires  his  servants  to  (hid  a  wdmaii 
who  was  mistress  of  such  a  demon.  Mr.  Gk>dwin  ha»  m  a  lucid 
manner  given  an  account  of  the  various  orders  of  these  praditioners 
in  ancient  and  later  times,  brfore  knowledge  had  scattered  ita  dis« 
coveries  over  the  moral  and  natural  world.     Events  were  constantly 


OodiM»  Lives  of  th$  Neeromcmcmrs,  207 

oaemtrng,  for  wUeb  no  saglkcatiy  was  able  to  assign  a  saliisfiictavy 
eansd. 

«*  Hence  flien  &lt  thenseires  faabitutlly  dispospd  to  rdfer  nimy  of 
the  appeannces  witli  which  they  were  CGnrersant  to  the  agency  of  mvt- 
aible  hatelligences ;  sometimes  under  the  influence  of  a  benignant  ditf^ 
position,  aometimes  cf  malice,  and  sometimeB  perhaps  from  an  inclination 
to  make  themselves  sport  of  the  wonder  and  astonishment  of  ignorant 
mortals.  Omens  and  portents  told  these  men  of  some  piece  of  good  or 
ill  fortune  speedily  to  befal  them.  The  flight  of  birds  was  watched  by 
them,  as  foretokening  somewhat  important.  Thunder  excited  in  them 
a  feeling  of  supernatural  terror.  Eclipses  with  fear  of  change  per- 
plexed the  nations.  The  phenomena  of  the  heaven^,  regular  and  irregu- 
lar, were  anxiously  remarked  from  the  same  princi^e.  During  the 
hours  of  darkness  men  were  apt  to  see  a  supernatural  b^ing  in  every 
bush ;  and  they  could  not  cross  a  receptacle  for  the  dead,  without  ex- 
pecting to  encounter  some  one  of  the  departed  uneasily  wandering  among 
graves,  or  commissioned  to  reveal  somewhat  momentous  and  deeply 
affecting  to  the  survivors.  Fairies  danced  in  the  moonlight  glade ;  and 
something  preternatural  perpetually  occurred  to  fill  the  living  with'  ad- 
miration and  awe. 

'^  All  this  gradually  reduced  itself  into  a  system.  Mankind,  particu*- 
larly  in  the  dark  and  ignorant  ages,  were  divided  into  the  strong  and  the 
weak ;  the  strong  and  weak  of  animal  frame,  when  corporeal  strength 
more  decidedly  bore  sway  than  in  a  period  of  greater  cultivation ;  and 
the  strong  and  weak  in  reference  to  intellect;  those  who  were  bold, 
audacious  and  enterprising  in  acquiring  an  ascendancy  over  their  fellow 
men,  and  those  who  truckled,  submitted,  and  were  acted  lipon,  from  an 
innate  consciousness  of  inferiority,  and  a  superstitious  looking  up  to 
such  as  were  of  greater  natural  or  acquired  endowments  than  themselves. 
The  strong  in  intellect  were  eager  to  avail  themselves  of  their  superi- 
ority, by  means  that  escaped  the  penetration  of  the  multitude,  and  had 
recourse  to  various  artifices  to  effect  their  ends.  Beside  this,  they  be- 
came the  dupes  of  their  own  practices.  They  set  out  at  first  in  their 
conception  of  things  from  the  level  of  the  vulgar,  'they  applied  them- 
selves diligently  to  the  unravelling  of  what  was  unknown;  wonder 
mingled  with  their  contemplation;  they  abstracted  their  tninds  from 
things  of  ordinary  occurrence,  and,  as  we  may  denominate  it,  of  real 
life,  till  at  length  they  lost  their  true  balance  amidst  the  astonishment 
they  sought  to  produce  in  their  inferiors.  They  felt  a  vocation  to  things 
extraordinary ;  and  they  willingly  gave  scope  and  line  without  limit  to 
that  which  engendered  in  themselves  the  most  gratifying  sensations,  at 
the  same  time  that  it  answered  the  purposes  of  their  ambition." — ^pp.  2,  3. 

Man's  ambition  is  boundless^  so  are  his  anxieties ;  and  the  arts 
by  which  he  has  laboured  to  penetrate  into  the  future,  and  to  com- 
mand eventa,  have  been  endless.  Divination  has  been  dextrous  in 
drawing  omens  from  the  entrails  of  beasts  offered  for  sacrifice; 
augury  ill  obaerving4be  flights  of  birds  and  the  sounds  they  utter; 
diuoraanoy  in  inspecting  the  lines  of  the  hand;  physiognomy  in 
exfimnng  the  inher^it  qualities  of  a  man^  and  hence  reading  the 
sort  of  proceedings  he  was  likely  to  engage  in ;  whilst  the  interpre- 
tation of  dreams  seems  to  have  been  the  most  gen^al^  because  the 


3Q8  Godwm*8  Lwes  of  the  NecronlaiKffrs, 

most  natural  mode  of  seeing  into  the  fatttre.  The  casting  of  late; 
astrology  which  flattered  a  man,  inasmuch  as  it  taught  that  the 
heavenly  bodies  were  concerned  in  his  destiny;  and  the  ooBSult&^ion 
of  oracles  deUvered  in  some  place  sacred  to  heavenly  powers,  were 
all  prevailing  practices  in  ancient  times.  A  priestess  delivered  the 
responses  of  the  oracle  at  Delphi,  who  could  only  be  consulted  one 
day  in  every  month. 

"Great  ingenuity  and  contrivance  were  no  doubt  required  to  uphold 
the  credit  of  the  oracle ;  and  no  less  boldness  and  self-collected ness  on  the 
part  of  those  by  whom  the  machinery  was  conducted.     Like  the  conju- 
rors of  nu)dem  times,  they  took  care  to  be  extensively  informed  as  to  all 
such  matters  respecting  which  the  oracle  was  likely  to  be  consulted. 
They  listened  probably  to  the  Pythia  with  a  superstitious  reverence  for 
the  incoherent  sentences  she  uttered.     She,  like  them,  spent  her  life  in 
being;  trained  for  the  office  to  which  she  was  devoted.     All  that  was 
rambling  and  inapplicable  in  her  wild  declamation  they  consigned  to 
oblivion.     Whatever  seemed  to  bear  on  the  question  proposed   they 
preserved.      The  persons  by  whom  the  responses  were  digested  into 
hexameter  verse,  had  of  course  a  commission  attended  with  great  discre- 
tionary  power.     They,  as  Horace  ■  remarks  on  another  occasion,  divided 
what  it  was  judicious  to  say,  from  what  it  was  prudent  to  omit,  dwelt 
upon  one  thing,  and  slurred  over  and  accommodated  another,  just  as 
would  best  suit  the  purpose  they  had  in  hand.     Beside  this,  for  the  most 
part  they  clothed  the  apparent  meaning  of  the  oracle  in  obscurity,  and 
often  devised  sentences  of  ambiguous  interpretation,  that  might  suit  with 
opposite  issues,  whichever  might  happen  to  fall  out.     This  was  perfectly 
consistent  with  a  high  degree  of  enthusiasm  on  the  part  of  the  priest. 
However  confident  he  might  be  in  some  things,  he  could  not  but  of  ne- 
cessity feel  that   his   prognostics  were  surrounded  with  uncertainty. 
Whatever  decisions  of  the  oracle  were  frustrated  by  the  event,  and  we 
know  that  there  were  many  of  this  sort,  were  speedily  forgotten ;  while 
those  which  succeeded,  were  conveyed  from  shore  to  shore,  and  repeated 
hy  every  echo.    Nor  is  it  surprising  that  the  transmitters  of  the  sentences 
of  the  God  should  in  time  arrive  at  an  extraordinary  degree  of  sagacity 
and  skill.     The  oracles  accordingly  reached  to  so  high  a  degree  of  repu- 
tation, that,  as  Cicero  observes,  no  expedition  for  a  long  time  was  under- 
taken, no  colony  sent  out,  and  often  no  aifair  of  any  distinguished  family 
or  individual  entered  on,  without  the  previously  obtaining  their  judgment 
and  sanction.     Their  authority  in  a  word  was  so  high,  that  the  first 
fathers  of  the  Christian  church  could  no  otherwise  account  for  a  reputa- 
tion thus  universally  received,  than  by  supposing  that  the  devils  were 
permitted  by  God  Almighty  to  inform  the  oracles  with  a  more  than  hu- 
man prescience,  that  all  the  world  might  be  concluded  in  idolatry  and 
unbelief,  and  the  necessity  of  a  Saviour  be  made  more  apparent.     The 
gullibility  of  man  is  one  of  the  most  prominent  features  of  our  nature. 
Various  periods  and  times,  when  whole  nations  have  as  it  were  with  one 
consent  run  into  the  most  incredible  and  the  grossest  absurdities,  perpe- 
tually offer  themselves  in  the  page  of  liistory;  and  in  the  records  of 
remote  antiquity  it  plainly  appears  that  such  delusions  continued  through 
successive  centuries." — pp.  18 — 20. 

But  to  dive  into  the  secrets  of  futurity  has  not  been  the  only 
daring  attempt  of  mortal  man^  they  have  even  been  ambitious  to 


Qodwin*»  Lives  of  the  Necromancers,  909 

aymmand  future  events.  This  was  sought  through  a  commerce 
vith  the  invisible  world.  And  as  in  Asia  the  Gods  were  divided 
into  the  benevolent  and  malignant^  each  party  had  their  votaries. 
Persons  actuated  -by  benevolence  besought  from  the  benevolent 
powers  blessings  upon  their  fellow-creatures;  while  such  unhappy 
beings^  with  whom  spite  had  the  predominance,  invoked  the  malig- 
nant spirits,  who  it  would  appear  waited  in  eager  hope  till  some 
mortal  reprobate  called  out  their  dormant  agency,  ere  it  could  inflict 
mischief.  Various  enchantments  of  terrific  character  were  therefore 
employed  by  unhappy  mortals  to  obtain  their  aid.  Sorcery  and 
witchcraft  were  the  modes  chiefly  resorted  to  for  controlling  future 
events.  The  sorcerer  was  generally  a  man  of  learning  and  talent, 
and  not  unfrequently  of  respectable  station  in  society;  the  witch  or 
wizard  was  almost  uniformly  old,  decrepid,  and  poor.  In  modem 
times  the  league  assumed  a  more  direful  character,  which  was 
formed  between  the  super-terrestrial  power  aud  the  votary,  than 
belonged  to  it  formerly.  The  witch  or  sorcerer  in  modern  times 
(we  are  compiling  from  the  work  we  have  in  hand)  could  not  secure 
the  assistance  of  the  demon  but  by  a  sure  and  faithftil  compact,  by 
which  the  human  party  purchased  the  vigilant  service  of  his  familiar 
fojr.a  certain  term  of  years,  only  on  condition  when  the  term  was 
expired  that  the  demon  was  to  obtain  possession  of  the  indentured 
party,  and  to  convey  him  irremissibly  and  for  ever  to  the  regions  of 
the  damned.  The  contract  was  drawn  out  in  authentic  form,  signed 
by  the  sorcerer,  and  attested  with  his  blood,  and  was  then  carried 
away  by  the  demon,  to  be  produced  again  at  the  appointed  time. 

'^  These  familiar  spirits  often  assumed  the  form  of  animab,  and  a  black 
dog  or  cat  was  considered  as  a  figure  in  which  the  attendant  devil  was 
secretly  hidden.  These  subordinate  devils  were  called  Imps.  Impure 
and  carnal  ideas  were  mingled  with  these  theories.  The  witches  were 
said  to  have  preternatural  teats  from  which  their  familiars  sucked  their 
blood.  The  devil  also  engaged  in  sexual  intercourse  with  the  witch  or 
wizard,  being  denominated  incubus ,  if  his  favourite  were  a  woman,  and 
succtUfitSy  if  a  man.  In  short,  every  frightful  and  loathsome  idea  was 
carefully  heaped  up  together,  to  render  the  unfortunate  beings  to  whom 
the  crime  of  witchcraft  was  imputed  the  horror  and  execration  of  their 
species." — ^pp.  26,  27. 

The  doctrine  of  witchcraft  taught  that  there  were  certain  com- 
pounds prepared  by  rules  of  art,  that  proved  baneful  to  the  persons 
against  whom  their  activity  was  directed  ;  there  were  also  preser- 
vatives; talismans,  amulets,  and  charms,  which  rendered  a  man 
i^operior  to  injury  from  witchcraft,  and  sometimes  even .  from  any 
mortal  weapon : — 

"  Last  of  all  we  may  speak  of  necromancy,  which  has  something  in  it 
that  so  strongly  takes  hold  of  the  imagination,  that,  though  it  is  one  only 
o£  the  various  modes  which  have  been  enumerated  for  the  exercise  of 
magical  power,  we  have  selected  it  to  give  a  title  to  the  present  volume. 

^*  There  is  something  satored  to  common  apprehension  in  the  repose  of 
the  dead.  They  seem  placed  beyond  our  power  to  disturb.  '  There  is 
BO  wmAi,  nor  device,  nor  knowledge,  nor  wisdom  in  the  grave.* 

VOL.  irt.  (1834.)  NO.  ii.  Q 


210  Godwin* s  Lives  of  the  Necromancers. 

'  After  life's  fitful  fever  they  sleep  veil : 
Nor  steel,  nor  poison, 
Malice  domestic,  foreign  levy,  nothing, 
Can  touch  them  further.* 

"  Their  remains  moulder  in  the  earth.  Neither  form  nor  feature  is 
long  continued  to  them.  We  shrink  from  their  touch,  and  their  sight. 
To  violate  the  sepulchre  therefore  for  the  purpose  of  unholy  spells  and 
operations,  as  we  read  of  in  the  annals  of  witchcraft,  cannot  fail  to  be 
exceedingly  shocking.  To  call  up  the  spirits  of  the  departed,  after  they 
have  fulfilled  the  task  of  life,  and  are  consigned  to  their  final  sleep,  is  sacri- 
legious. Well  may  they  exclaim,  like  the  ghost  of  Samuel  in  the  sacred 
story,  '  Why  hast  thou  diaquieted  me  ?' 

"  There  is  a  further  circumstance  in  the  caae,  which  causes  us  addi- 
tionally to  revolt  from  the  very  idea  of  necromancy,  strictly  so  called. 
Man  is  a  mortal,  or  an  immortal  hoing.  His  frame  either  wholly  '  return» 
to  the  earth  as  it  was,  or  his  sjHrit^'  the  thinking  principle  within  him, 
'  to  God  who  gave  it.'  The  latter  is  the  prevailing  sentiment  of  mankind 
in  modern  times.  Man  is  placed  upon  earth  in  a  state  of  probation,  to 
be  dealt  with  hereafter  according  to  the  deeds  done  in  the  flesh.  *  Some 
shall  go  away  into  everlasting  punishment ;  and  others  into  life  eternal/ 
In  this  case  there  is  something  blasphemous  in  the  idea  of  intermeddling^ 
with  the  state  of  the  dead.  We  must  leave  them  in  the  hands  of  God. 
Even  on  the  idea  of  an  interval,  the  '  sleep  of  the  soul'  from  death  to  the 
general  resurrection,  which  is  the  creed  of  no  contemptible  sect  of 
Christians,  it  is  surely  a  terrific  notion  that  we  should  disturb  the  pause, 
which,  upon  that  hypothesis,  the  laws  of  nature  have  assigned  to  the  de> 
parted  soul,  and  com.e  to  awake,  or  to  '  torment  him  before  the  time.* " — 
pp.  27— 2&. 

Before  Mir^  Qodwin  goes  to  the  examples,  and  to  consider  the 
ease  of  particular  individuab,  who^  in  difl^ent  ages  of  the  world, 
have  practised  witchcraft  or  neeromancy,  he  refers  to  the  craft  so 
eagerly  cultivated  in  successive  ages,  which  laboured  to  convert  the 
inferior  metals  into  gold,  and  to  renew  the  youth  of  mortals.  Every 
thing  of  this  kind  tends  to  prove  the  lawless  imaginations  and 
ton^ngs  of  man : — 

"  Men  of  the  most  wonderful  talents  devoted  their  lives  to  the  investi- 
gation ;  and  in  multiplied  instances  the  discovery  was  said  to  have  been 
completed.  Vast  sums  of  money  were  consumed  in  the  fruitless,  endea- 
vour ;  and  in  a  later  period  it  seems  to  have  furnished  an  excellent 
handle  to  vain  and  specious  projectors,  to  extort  money  from  those  more 
amply  jH-ovided  with  the  goods  of  fortune  than  themselves. 

^'  The  art  no  doubt  is  in  itself  sufficiently  mystical,  having  been  pur- 
sued by  multitudes,  who  seemed  to  themselves  ever  on  the  eve  of  con- 
summation, but  as  constantly  baffled  when  to  their  own  apprehension 
most  on  the  verge  of  success.  The  discovery  indeed  appears  upon  the 
lace  of  it  to  be  of  the  most  delicate  nature,  as  the  benefit  must  wholly 
depend  upon  its  being  reserved  to  one  or  a  very  few,  the  object  being 
unbounded  wealth,  which  is  nodiing  unless  confined.  If  the  power  of 
creating  gold  is  diffused,  wealth  by  such  diffusion  becomes  poverty,  and 
every  thing  after  a  short  time  would  but  return  to  what  it  had  been. 
Add  to  which,  that  the  nature  of  discovery  has  ordinarily  been,  that. 


Godunk's  Lives  of  the  NccromaRcers.  211 

when  onoe  the  clue  has  been  found,  it  reveals  itself  to  several  about  the 
same  period  of  time. 

*'  The  art,  as  we  have  said,  is  in  its  own  nature  sufficiently  mystical^ 
depending  on  nice  combinations  and  proportions  of  ingredients,  and  upon 
the  addition  of  each  ingredient  being  made  exactly  in  the  critical  moment, 
and  in  the  precise  degree  of  heat,  indicated  by  the  colour  of  the  vapour 
arising  from  the  crucible  or  retort.  This  was  watched  by  the  operator 
with  inexhaustible  patience ;  and  it  was  often  found  or  supposed,  that  the 
minutest  error  in  this  respect  caused  the  most  promising  appearances  to 
fail  of  the  expected  success.  This  circumstance  no  doubt  occasionally 
gave  an  opportunity  to  an  artful  impostor  to  account  for  his  miscarriage, 
and  thus  to  prevail  upon  his  credulous  dupe  to  enable  him  to  begin  his 
tedious  experiment  again. 

**  But,  beside  this,  it  appears  that  those  whose  object  was  the  transmu- 
tation of  metals,  very  frequently  joined  to  this  pursuit  the  study  of  astro* 
logy,  and  even  the  practice  of  sorcery.  So  much  delicacy  and  nicety 
were  supposed  to  be  required  in  the  process  for  the  transmutation  of 
metals,  tnat  it  could  not  hope  to  succeed  but  under  a  favourable  conjunc- 
tion of  the  planets ;  and  the  most  flourishing  pretenders  to  the  art  boasted 
that  they  had  also  a  familiar  intercourse  with  certain  spirits  of  superna- 
tural power,  which  assisted  them  in  their  undertakings,  and  enabled  them 
to  pcnetr.ite  into  things  undiscoverable  to  mere  human  sagacity,  and  to 
predict  future  events.'* — pp.  30 — 32. 

Mr.  Godwin  first  takes  up  the  examples  of  necromancy  and 
witchcraft  from  the  Bible^  with  which  it  is  presomed  all  our  readers 
are  oonyorsant,  and  therefore  we  proceed  to  Greece  for  iUastrations, 
leaving  behind  a  great  deal  of  interesting  matter  respecting  Egypt 
and  Cbaldea.  Under  this  head  th^e  is  no  lack  of  materials^  for 
not  only  were  the  wonderfiil  things  of  early  Greece  more  frequent 
than  the  sober  iacts;  but  the  poets  and  annalists  of  that  land  have 
handed  down  to  us  the  memory  of  their  tastes^  manners,  and  su- 
perstitions^ their  strength  and  weakness.  We  have  never  met  with 
6o  clear  and  satisfactory  a  sketch  of  the  genius,  accomplishments, 
and  conduct  of  Pythagoras  as  is  now  before  us,  who  was  the  first 
person  that  assumed  the  name  of  philosopher,  or  a  lover  of  wis- 
dom, instead  of  sophibt  or  professor  of  wisdom,  which  had  pre- 
viously been  in  vogue  amongst  the  instructors  in  Greece.  Yet  with^ 
all  this  modesty,  and  all  his  real  wisdom  and  acquirements,  he  was 
weak  or  wicked  enough  to  be  a  quack,  and  a  pretei^er  to  super- 
natural endowments : — ' 

''To  give  the  greater  authority  and  effect  to  his  communications, 
Pythagoras  hid  himself  during  the  day  at  least  from  the  great  body  of 
his  pupils,  and  was  only  seen  by  them  at  night.  Indeed  there  is  no  reason 
to  suppose  that  any  one  was  admitted  into  his  entire  familiarity.  When 
he  came  forth,  he  appeared  in  a  long  garment  of  the  purest  white,  with  a 
flowing  beard,  and  a  garland  upon  his  head.  He  is  said  to  have  been  of 
the  finest  symmetrical  form,  with  a  majestic  carriage,  and  a  grave  and 
awful  countenance.  He  suffered  his  followers  to  beheve  that  he  was  one 
of  the  Gods,  the  Hyperborean  Apollo,  and  is  said  to  have  told  Abaris  that 
he  assumed  the  human  form,  that  he  might  the  better  invite  men  to  an 

q2 


212  Godwin* 8  Lives  of  the  Necromancers. 

easiness  of  appronch  and  to  confidence  in  him.  What  howeyer  seems  to 
be  agreed  in  by  all  his  biog^raphers  is,  that  he  professed  to  have  already  in 
different  ages  appeared  in  the  likeness  of  man :  first  as  JBthalides,  the  son 
of  Mercury;  and,  when  his  father  expressed  himself  ready  to  invest  him 
with  any  gift  short  of  immortality,  he  prayed  that,  as  the  buman  soul  is 
destined  successively  to  dwell  in  various  forms,  he  might  have  the  pri- 
vilege in  each  to  remember  his  former  state  of  being,  which  was  granted 
him.  From  iEthalides  he  became  Euphorbus,  who  slew  Patroclus  at  the 
siege  of  Troy.  He  then  appeared  as  Hermotimus,  then  Pyrrhus,  a  fisher- 
man of  Delos,  and  finally  Pythagoras.  He  said  that  a  period  of  time  was 
interposed  between  each  transmigration,  during  which  he  visited  the  seat 
of  departed  souls ;  and  he  professed  to  relate  a  part  of  the  wonders  he  had 
seen.  He  is  said  to  have  eaten  sparingly  and  in  secret,  and  in  all  respects 
to  have  given  himself  out  for  a  being  not  subject  to  the  ordinajy  laws  of 
nature.*' — pp.  83,  84. 

He  pretended  to  miraculous  powers;  delusion  and  falsehood 
M'ere  main  features  of  his  instruction^  which  tended  to  make  his 
valuable  efforts  perishable : — 

**  It  is  difRcult  to  imagine  any  thing  more  instructive,  and  fhore  preg* 
nant  with  matter  for  salutary  reflection,  than  the  c<mtrast  presented  to 
us  by  the  character  and  system  of  action  of  Pythagoras  on  the  one  hand, 
and  those  of  the  great  enquirers  of  the  last  two  centuries,  for  example. 
Bacon,  Newton,  and  Locke,  on  the  other.  Pythagoras  probably  does  not 
yield  to  any  one  of  these  in  the  evidences  of  true  intellectual  greatness. 
In  his  school,  in  the  followers  he  trained  resembling  himself,  and  in  the 
salutary  effects  he  produced  on  the  institutions  of  the  various  republics 
of  Magna  Graecia  and  Sicily,  he  must  be  allowed  greatly  to  have  excelled 
them.  His  discoveries  of  various  propositions  in  geometiy,  of  the  earth 
as  a  planet,  and  of  the  solar  system  as  now  universally  recognised,  clearly 
stamp  him  a  genius  of  the  highest  order. 

'*  He  was  probably  much  under  the  influence  of  a  contemptible  jealousy, 
and  must  be  considered  as  desirous  that  none  of  his  contemporaries  or 
followers  should  eclipse  their  master.  All  was  oracular  and  dogmatic  in 
the  school  of  Pythagoras.  He  prized  and  justly  prized  the  greatness  of 
his  attainments  and  discoveries,  and  had  no  conception  that  any  thing 
could  go  beyond  them.  He  did  not  encourage,  nay,  he  resolutely  opposed, 
all  true  independence  of  mind,  and  that  undaunted  spirit  of  enterprise 
which  is  the  atmosphere  in  which  the  sublimest  thoughts  are  most  na- 
turally generated.  He  therefore  did  not  throw  open  the  gates  of  science 
and  wisdom,  and  invite  every  comer ;  but  on  the  contrary  narrowed  the 
entrance,  and  carefully  reduced  the  number  of  aspirants.  He  thought 
not  of  the  most  likely  methods  to  give  strength  and  permanence  and  an 
extensive  sphere  to  the  progress  of  the  human  mind.  For  these  reasons 
he  wrote  nothing;  but  consigned  all  to  the  frail  and  uncertain  custody  of 
tradition.  And  distant  posterity  has  amply  avenged  itself  upon  the  nar- 
rowness of  his  policy ;  and  the  name  of  Pythagoras,  which  would  other- 
wise have  been  ranked  with  the  first  luminaries  of  mankind,  and  consigned 
to  everlasting  gratitude,  has  in  consequence  of  a  few  radical  and  fatal 
mistakes,  been  often  loaded  with  obloquy,  and  the  hero  who  bore  it  been 
indiscriminately  classed  among  the  votaries  of  imposture  and  artifice.'* — 
^p.  89—92. 


Godwin's  Lives  of  the  Necromancers.  213 

Socrates,  the  theme  of  modem  panegyric,  of  youthful  admiration 
in  ac^emies^  had  his  weaknesses  and  absurdities. 

^*  He  said  that  he  repeatedly  received  a  divine  premonition  of  dangera 
impending  over  himself  and  others ;  and  considerable  pains  have  been 
taken  to  ascertain  the  cause  and  author  of  these  premonitions*  Several 
persons,  among  whom  we  may  include  Plato,  have  conceived  that  So- 
crates regarded  himself  as  attended  by  a  supernatural  guardian  who  at 
all  times  watched  over  his  welfare  and  concerns. 

"  But  the  solution  is  probably  of  a  simpler  nature.  Socrates,  with  all 
his  incomparable  excellencies  and  perfections,  was  not  exempt  from  the 
superstitions  of  his  &ge  and  country.  He  had  been  bred  up  among  the 
absurdities  of  polytheism.  In  them  were  included,  as  we  have  seen,  a 
profound  deference  for  the  responses  of  oracles,  and  a  vigilant  attention 
to  portents  and  cmens.  Socrates  appears  to  have  been  exceedingly  re- 
gardful of  omens.  Plato  tells  us  that  this  intimation,  which  he  spoke  of 
as  his  demon,  never  prompted  him  to  any  act,  but  occasionally  inter- 
fered to  prevent  him  or  his  friends  from  proceeding  in  any  thing  that 
woidd  have  been  attended  with  injurious  consequences.  Sometiipes  he 
described  it  as  a  voice,  which  no  one  however  heard  but  himself;  and 
sometimes  it  showed  itself  in  the  act  of  sneezing.  If  the  sneezing  came, 
when  he  was  in  doubt  to  do  a  thing  oi  not  to  do  it,  it  confirmed  him ; 
but  if,  being  already  engaged  in  any  act,  he  sneezed,  this  he  con- 
sidered as  a  warning  to  desist.  If  any  of  his  friends  sneezed  on  his  right 
hand,  he  interpreted  this  8S  a  favourable  omen ;  but,  if  on  his  left,  he 
immediately  relinquished  his  purpose.  Socrates  vindicated  his  mode  of 
expressing  himself  on  the  subject,  by  saying  that  others,  when  they  si)okG 
of  omens,  for  example,  by  the  voice  of  a  bird,  said  the  bird  told  me  this, 
but  that  he,  knowing  that  the  omen  was  purely  instrumental  to  a  higher 
power,  deemed  it  more  religious  and  respectful  to  have  regard  only  to. 
the  higher  power^  and  to  say  that  God  had  graciously  warned  him."' — 

pp.  114r-116. 

The  Roman  poets  and  historians  give  many  examples  of  Sorcery, 
and  when  we  come  down  to  the  era  of  the  Christian  religion,  there  is 
irrefragable  testimony  of  the  existence  of  the  art.  Our  Saviour  to 
the  charge  that  he  did  '^not  cast  out  devils,  but  by  Belzebub,  the 
prince  of  the  devils/'  asks  the  Pharisees  in  return  '^  by  whom  do  your: 
children  oast  them  out?"  Then  we  have  an  account  of  Simon 
Magus  and  Elymas,  as  spoken  of  in  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles.  We 
wish  that  the  author  had  made  some  observation  on  the  subject  of 
casting  out  Devils^  between  the  achievements  of  our  Saviour  and  the 
Sorcerers  of  hia  time.  What  those  devils  were,  and  how  they  pos- 
sessed mankind^  Mr.  Godwin^  so  far  as  we  have  seen,  does  not 
attempt  to  describe;  and  herein  doubtless  he  does  wisely.  Any 
account  or  solution  upon  human  and  ordinary  principles,  such  as 
modem  science  has  discovered,  is  much  better  left  out ;  for  whilst  as 
we  are  no  advocates  for  imposture  and  superstition^  we  think  there  are 
many  things  which  human  philosophy  has  not  and  cannot  reach. 
The  whole  history  of  our  Saviour  and  of  Christianity  is  clearly 
beyond  and  above  any  discovery  by  the  mere  power  of  reason. 


214  Godwin* 8  Lives  of  the  Necromaners, 

Necromancy  as  an  art  cannot  be  characterized  aa  more  impious 
than  it  is.  Still  the  intercourse  said  to  exist  between  earthly  and 
unearthly  beings,  though  it  has  in  most  cases  that  have  been  care- 
felly  investigated  turned  out  to  be  but  imposture  or  delusion  on  the 
part  of  wicked  or  weak  mortals,  may  for  any  thing  we  know 
have  been  permitted  by  the  Almighty  at  times  in  a  manner,  and 
for  purposes  of  which  we  cannot  be  cognizant.  Nor  do  we  think  it 
argues  superior  wisdom  to  make  one  sweeping  declaration  to  the 
contrary.  One  thing  however  is  manifest,  that,  as  knowledge  in- 
creases, a  belief  in  supernatural  agencies,  such  as  witchcraft  sup- 
poses, decreases :  nay,  not  to  ask  for  high  philosophical  attain- 
ments, where  the  Bible  is  the  record  chiefly  admired  and  consulted, 
every  dark  and  wicked  belief  or  practice  wUl  have  the  slightest  hold 
on  the  mind.  In  perfect  accordance  with  this  view  is  the  fact 
mentioned  by  our  author,  that  the  establishment  of  Christianity  in 
the  Roman  empire  produced  a  new  era  in  the  history  of  Necroman- 
cy.  IJnder  the  reign  of  Polytheism  devotion  was  wholly  unre- 
strained in  every  direction  it  might  chance  to  assume.  God's  known 
and  unknown,  the  spirits  of  departed  heroes,  the  gods  of  heaven 
and  hell,  abstractions  of  virtue  and  vice,  might  unblamed  be  made 
the  objects  of  religious  worship.  Witchcraft  therefore,  and  the  invo- 
cation of  the  spirits  of  the  dead,  might  be  practised  with  toleration. 
But  under  the  creed  of  the  unity  of  the  divine  nature  the  case  was 
exceedingly  different. 

"  There  was  no  medium  between  the  worship  of  heaven  and  hell.  All 
adoration  was  to  be  directed  to  God  the  Creator  through  the  mediation 
of  his  only  begotten  Son ;  or,  if  prayers  were  addressed  to  inferior  beings, 
and  the  glorified  spirits  of  his  saints,  at  least  they  terminated  in  the  Most 
High,  were  a  deprecation  of  his  wrath,  a  soliciting  his  favour,  and  a 
homage  to  his  omnipotence.  On  the  other  hand  sorcery  and  witchcraft 
were  sins  of  the  blackest  dye.  In  opposition  to  the  one  only  God,  the 
creator  of  heaven  and  earth,  was  the  '  prince  of  darkness/  the  •  prince  of 
the  power  of  the  air,*  who  contended  perpetually  against  the  Almighty, 
and  sought  to  seduce  his  creatures  and  his  subjects  from  their  due  allegi- 
ance. Sorcerei*9  and  witches  were  supposed  to  do  homage  and  sell 
themselves  to  the  devil,  than  which  it  was  not  in  the  mind  of  man  to 
conceive  a  greater  enormity,  or  a  crime  more  worthy  to  cause  its  perpe- 
trators to  be  exterminated  from  the  face  of  the  earth.  The  thought  of  it 
was  of  power  to  cause  the  flesh  of  man  to  creep  and  tingle  with  horror : 
and  such  as  were  prone  to  indulge  their  imaginations  to  the  utmcat  ex- 
tent of  the  terrible,  found  a  perverse  delight  in  conceiving  this  depravity, 
and  were  but  too  much  disposed  to  fasten  it  upon  their  fellow  creatures," 
—pp.  172,  173. 

After  tracing  necromancy  in  the  eastern  parts  of  the  world, 
and  comparing  the  resemblance  of  the  tales  there  invented  witU 
those  of  Europe,  he  comes  to  the  dark  ages  that  were  so  remark- 
able in  the  latter  quarter,  when  reigned  "  the  sabbath  of  magic  €md 
sorcery,"  and  gloom  enveloped  the  minds  of  men.  Doubtless  that 
was  the  grand  season  of  superstition  and  mystery,  especially  from 


Godwin's  Lives  of  the  Necromancers.  S15 

the  clos«  of  the  fourth  century  to  that  of  the  eleventh,  though  of 
that  period,such  was  the  degree  of  its  ignorance  and  barbarism,  that 
we  have  only  the  scantiest  records  to  go  by.  Merlin,  near  the  com- 
mencement of  this  era,  and  St.  Dunstan  towards  its  close,  were 
the  most  celebrated  magicians  in  England.  Many  other  well 
known  names  point  out  men  who  were  eminent  professors  of  the 
same  art  before  the  revival  of  letters  j  nor  did  the  dawn  of  intellect- 
tual  freedom  and  literature  for  a  long  time  produce  their  foil  efiect. 
'^  And  then,  as  is  apt  to  occur  in  such  cases,  the  expiring  folly  oc- 
casionally gave  tokens  of  its  existence,  with  a  convulsive  vehe- 
mence, and  became  only  the  more  picturesque  and  impressive 
through  the  strong  contrast  of  lights  and  shadows  that  attended 
its  manifestations."  Many  of  the  professors  and  practitioners  in 
the  unholy  art  of  magic  and  sorcery  were  singularly  eminent  either 
as  respected  talents  or  accomplishments.  Joan  of  Arc,  whose  case 
is  familiar  to  every  reader  of  history,  seems  to  have  been  one  of 
the  most  remarkable  persons  during  the  fifteenth  century  in  all 
Europe,  and  to  have  firmly  believed  that  she  saw  visions  and  held 
communications  with  the  saints ;  whilst  her  enemies  believed  that 
she  was  in  league  with  the  devil  against  them. 

Our  author  proceeds  to  consider  the  frightfully  sanguinary  pro- 
ceedings that  were  followed  out  against  witchcraft,  which  consti- 
tutes one  of  the  most  instructive  parts  of  the  work,  and  an  essen- 
tial branch  in  the  science  of  human  nature.  For  in  the  fifteenth 
century  things  took  a  new  turn.  The  ecclesiastical  authorities  be- 
lieved that  the  sin  of  heretical  pravity  was  **  as  the  sin  of  witch- 
craft ;"  they  regarded  them  alike  with  horror,  and  were  persuaded 
that  there  was  a  natural  consent  and  alliance  between  them.  So 
that  the  precise  passage  from  ill  to  better  was  more  calamitous  and 
fiill  of  enormities,  "  than  the  period  when  the  understanding  was 
completely  hoodwinked,  and  men  digested  absurdities  and  impossi- 
bilities with  as  much  ease  as  their  every  day  food.'*  A  few  more 
cases  are  cited  of  persons  who  seem  to  have  been,  in  part  at  least, 
the  victims  of  their  own  delusions.  And  not  the  lightest  name  is 
that  of  Luther,  although  he  is  not  mentioned  as  at  all  implicated 
in  the  question  of  necromancv ;  but  to  shew  the  delusions  that 
heated  imaginations  in  those  times  were  subject  to.  But  the  in- 
stance is  especially  wonderful,  belonging  as  it  docs  to  a  person 
of  so  masculine  a  mind  as  that  illustrious  reformer  assuredly 
possessed : — 

'*  It  appears  from  his  Treatise  on  the  Abuses  attendant  on  Private 
Masses,  th.it  he  had  a  conference  with  the  devil  on  the  subject.  He  says, 
that  this  supernatural  personage  caused  him  by  his  visits  *  many  bitter 
nights  and  much  restless  and  wearisome  repose.'  Once  in  particular  he 
came  to  Luther,  *  in  the  dead  of  the  night,  when  he  was  just  awaked  out  of 
sleep.  The  devil,'  he  goes  on  to  say, '  knows  well  how  to  construct  his 
arguments,  and  to  urge  them  with  the  skill  of  a  master.  He  delivers 
himself  with  a  grave,  and  yet  a  shrill  voice.     Nor  does  he  use  circumlo- 


216  Godwin* 9  Lives  of  the  Necromancers. 

xutions,  find'  beat  about  the  bush,  but  excels  in  forcible  statements  and 
quick  rejoinders.  I  no  longer  wonder/  he  adds, '  that  the  persons  whom  he 
assails  in  this  way,  are  occasionally  found  dead  in|their  beds.  He  is  able 
to  compress  and  throttle,  and  more  than  once  he  has  so  assaulted  me  and 
driven  my  soul  into  a  comer,  that  I  felt  as  if  the  next  moment  it  must 
leave  my  body.  I  am  of  opinion  that  Gesner  and  Oecolampadius  and 
others  in  that  manner  came  by  their  deaths.  The  deviPs  manner  of 
opening  a  debate  is  pleasant  enough ;  but  he  urges  things  so  peremp- 
torily, that  the  respondent  in  a  short  time  knows  not  how  to  acquit 
himself.*  He  elsewhere  says,  *  The  reasons  why  the  sacrameutarians 
understood  so  little  of  the  Scriptures  is,  that  they  do  not  encounter  the 
true  opponent,  that  is,  thedeviU  who  presently  drives  one  up  in  a  comer, 
and  thus  makes  one  perceive  the  just  interpretation.  For  my  part  I  am 
thoroughly  acquainted  with  him,  and  have  eaten  a  bushel  of  salt  with 
him.  He  sleeps  with  me  more  frequently,  and  lies  nearer  to  me  in  bed, 
than  my  own  wife  does." — pp. — 321 — 322 

Our  author  next  proceeds  to  the  consideration  of  such  examples, 
who  with  minds  perfectly  disengaged  and  free,  have  applied 
themselves  to  concert  the  means  of  over-reaching  the  simplicity, 
or  baiQing  the  penetration  of  those^  who  ^  were  merely  spectators, 
and  uninitiated  in  the  mystery  of  the  arts  that  was  practised  upon 
them.  The  ma^c  lantern,  which  is  now  the  amusement  only  of  school- 
boys or  servant-maids,  and  other  ingenious  contrivances,  which  are 
now  not  more  than  the  tricks  of  the  most  ordinary  conjuror,  were 
the  means  by  which  these  quack  magicians  astonished  the  specta* 
tors.  It  is  worthy  of  notice,  that  though  James  the  First  of 
England  in  his  younger  years,  wrote  a  work  on  demonology,  he 
lived  to  alter  his  mind  greatly  on  the  question,  and  at  last  flatly  to 
declare  the  working  of  witches  and  devils  to  be  but  falsehoods  and 
delusions. 

Yet  such  was  the  credulity  of  the  people  in  England,  as  late  as 
the  year  1647,  that  Matthew  Hopkins  published  a  pamphlet,  as- 
suming to  himself  the  surname  of  the  witchfinder.  Upon  whose  in- 
formation many  unhappy  persons  were  subjected  to  torture  and  to 
horrible  modes  of  death.  He  ultimately,  however,  met  with  de- 
served punishment: — 

"  The  fate  of  Hopkins  was  such  as  might  be  expected  in  similar  cases. 
The  multitude  are  at  first  impressed  with  horror  at  the  monstrous  charges 
that  are  advanced.  Thejr  are  seized,  as  by  contagion,  with  terror  at  the 
mischief?  which  seem  to  impend  over  them,  and  from  which  no  innocence 
and  no  precaution  appear  to  afford  them  sufficient  protection.  They 
hasten,  as  with  an  unanimous  effort,  to  avenge  themselves  upon  these 
malignant  enemies,  whom  God  and  man  alike  combine  to  expel  from 
society.  But  after  a  time,  they  begin  to  reflect,  and  to  apprehend  that 
they  have  acted  with  too  much  precipitation,  that  they  have  been  led  on 
with  uncertain  appearances.  They  see  one  victim  led  to  the  gallows  after 
another,  without  stint  or  limitation.  They  see  one  dying  with  the  mogt 
solemn  asseverations  of  innocence,  and  another  confessing  apparently  she 
knows  not  what,  what  is  put  into  her  mouth  by  her  relentless  perbccutors 


GodmkC$  Lh>e9  of  the  Necromancers.  217 

They  see  these  victims^  old,  crazy  and  impotent,  hanassed  beyond  endn* 
rance  by  the  iogehius  cruelties  that  are  practised  against  them.  •  They 
were  first  urgc3  on  by  implacable  hostility  and  fury,  to  be  satisfied  with 
nothing  but  blood.  But  humanity  and  remorse  also  have  their  turn. 
JDissatisfied  with  themselves,  they  are  glad  to  point  their  resentment 
against  another.  The  man  that  at  first  they  hailed  as  a  public  bene&ctor, 
they  presently  come  to  regard  with  jealous  eyes,  and  beg^n  to  consider  as 
a  cunning  impostor,  dealing  in  cool  blood  with  the  lives  of  his  fellow- 
creatures  for  a  paltry  g^in,  and,  still  more  horrible,  for  the  lure  of  a 
perishable  and  short-lived  feune.  .  The  multitude,  we  are  told,  after  a  few 
seasons,  rose  upon  Hopkins,  and  resolved  to  subject  him  to  one  of  his  own 
criterions.  They  dragged  him  to  a  pond,  and  threw  him  into  the  water 
for  a  witch.  It  seems  he  floated  on  the  surfeice,  as  a  witch  ought  to-do. 
They  then  pursued  him  with  hootings  and  revilings,  and  drove  him  for 
ever  into  that  obscurity  and  ignominy  which  he  had  amply  merited." 

The  last  story  we  shall  quote  from  Mr.  Godwin's  work  respects 
a  very  remarkable  personage,  which  strikingly  displays  the  cre- 
dulity of  the  period  it  belongs  to : — 

"  It  takes  its  date  from  the  morning  of  the  third  of  September,  1651, 
when  Cromwel  g^ned  the  battle  of  Worcester  against  Charles  the  Second, 
which  he  was  accustomed  to  call  by  a  name  sufficiently  significant,  his 

*  crowning  victory.'  It  is  told  on  the  authority  of  a  Colonel  Lindsey, 
who  is  said  to  have  been  an  intimate  friend  of  the  usurper,  and  to  have 
been  commonly  known  by  that  name,  as  being  in  reality  the  senior  cap- 
tain in  Cromwei's  own  regiment.  '  On  this  memorable  morning,  the  gen- 
eral,' it  seems,  '  took  this  officer  with  him  to  a  woodside  not  far  from 
the  army,  and  bade  him  alight,  and  follow  him  into  that  wood,  and  to  take 
particular  notice  of  what  he  saw  and  heard.  After  having  alighted,  and 
secured  their  horses,  and  walked  some  little  way  into  the  wood,  Lindsey 
began  to  turn  pale,  and  to  be  seized  with  horror  from  some  unknown 
cause.  Upon  which  Cromwel  asked  him  how  he  did,  or  how  he  felt  him^o 
self.  He  answered,  that  he  was  in  such  a  trembling  and  consternation, 
that  he  had  never  felt  the  like  in  all  the  conflicts  and  battles  he  hiid  ever 
been  eng^ed  in  :  but  whether  it  proceeded  from  the  gloominess  of  the 
place,  or  the  temperature  of  his  body,  he  knew  not.  '  How  now  ?*  said 
Cromwel,  *  What,  troubled  with  the  vapours  ?  Come  forward,  man.' 
They  had  not  gone  above  twenty  yards  further,  before  lindsey  on  a  sud- 
den stood  still,  and  cried  out,  '  By  all  that  is  good  I  am  seized  with  such 
unaccountable  terror  and  astonishment,  that  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  stir 
one  step  further.'  Upon  which  Cromwel  called  him, '  Faint-hearted  fool  I' 
and  bade  him,  '  stand  there,  and  observe,  or  be  witness.'  And  then  the 
general,  advancing  to  some  distance  from  him,  met  a  grave  elderly  man, 
with  a  roll  of  parchment  in  his  hand,  who  delivered  it  to  Cromwel,  and  he 
eagerly  perused  it.  Lindsey,  a  little  recovered  from  his  fear,  heard  seve- 
ral loud  words  between  them :  particularly  Cromwel  said,  *  This  is  but 
for  seven  years ;  I  was  to  have  had  it  for  one-and-twenty ;  and  it  must, 
and  shall  be  so.'  The  other  told  him  positively,  it  could  not  be  for  more 
than  seven.  Upon  which  Cromwel  cried  with  great  fierceness,  *  It  shall 
however  be  for  fourteen  years.'      But  the  other  peremptorily  declared, 

*  It  could  not  possibly  be  for  any  longer  time  ;  and,  if  he  would  not  take 
it  so,  there  were  others  that  would.'     Upon  which  Cromwel  at  last  took 


218  Godwin* 8  Lives  of  the  Necromancer^. 

the  parchment :  and  returning  to  Lindsey,  with  great  joy  in  his  ooiinte- 
nGince,  he  cried,  ^  Now,  Lindsey,  the  hattle  is  our  own  I  1  long  to  be  en« 
gaged/  Returning  out  of  the  wood,  they  rode  to  the  army,  Cromwel 
with  a  resolution  to  engage  as  soon  as  possible,  and  the  other  with  a  design 
to  leave  the  army  as  soon.  After  the  first  charge,  Lindsey  deserted  his  post, 
and  rode  away  with  all  possible  speed  day  and  night,  till  he  came  into  the 
county  of  Norfolk,  to  the  house  of  ah  intimate  friend,  one  Mr.  Thorough- 
good,  minister  of  the  parish  of  Grimstone.  Cromwel,  as  soon  as  he 
missed  him,  sent  all  ways  after  him,  with  a  promise  of  a  great  reward  to 
any  that  should  bring  him  alive  or  dead.  When  Mr.  Thoroughgood  saw 
his  friiend  Lindsey  come  into  his  yard,  his  horse  and  himself  much  tired, 
in  a  sort  of  a  maze,  he  said,  *  How  now,  colonel  ?  We  hear  there  is  likely 
to  be  a  battle  shortly :  what,  fled  from  your  colours  ?'  *  A  battle^'  said 
the  other ;  '  yes  there  has  been  a  battle,  and  I  am  sure  the  king  is  beaten. 
But,  if  ever  I  strike  a  stroke  for  Cromwel  again,  may  I  perish  eternally  I 
For  I  am  sure  he  has  made  a  league  with  the  devil,  and  the  devil  will 
have  him  in  due  time.'  Then,  desiring  his  protection  from  Cromwel's 
inquisitors,  he  went  in,  and  related  to  him  the  story  in  all  its  circum- 
stances.' It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  remind  the  reader,  that  Cromwel 
died  on  that  day  seven  years,  September  the  third,  1658. 

"Echard  adds,  to  prove  his  impartiality  as  an  historian,  *How  far 
Lindsey  is  to  be  believed,  and  how  far  the  story  is  to  be  accounted  incre- 
dible, is  left  to  the  reader's  faith  and  judgment,  and  not  to  any  determina- 
tion of  our  own.' "  pp.  436 — 440. 

It  is  a  reflection  upon  the  progress  of  knowledge  and  illumina- 
tion in  England^  that  it  was  not  till  the  year  1786,  that  a  statute 
was  passed^  repealing  the  law  made  in  the  first  year  of  James  I, 
which  had  made  sorcery  or  enchantment  a  capital  offence^  and  sub- 
stituting a  punishment  such  as  appertained  to  a  misdemeanor :  a 
law  which  by  many  years  had  been  preceded  by  an  order  of  the 
council  of  state  in  France,  forbidding  tribunals  from  proceeding  to 
judgment  in  cases  where  the  accusation  was  of  sorcery  only.  Mr. 
Godwin  therefore  quits  this  subject  at  a  period  when  the  more  en*^ 
lightened  governments  of  Europe  obUterated  the  sanguinary  laws 
that  pursued  this  imaginary  crime.  And  from  the  outline  of  the 
work,  our  readers  will  perceive  that  he  has  executed  his  task  with 
singular  clearness,  lending  it  the  great  attraction  of  a  mind  fully 
versant  on  the  subject,  and  of  a  tciste  and  style  admirably  suited  to 
it.  Nor  is  the*sunplicity  and  comprehensiveness  of  his  philosophy 
more  apparent,  than  tne  spirit  of  humanity  that  pervades  the 
whole.  He  rejoices  at  the  light  that  has  in  the  latter  days  be^n  shed 
abroad  over  our  land,  while  he  weeps  at  the  thought  of  our  fore* 
fathers,  besides  the  iUs  of  this  sublunary  state,  having  been  ha<* 
xassed  with  imaginary  terrors.  Mr.  DalyeU,  whose  elaborate  work  on 
the  darker  superstitions  of  Scotland  we  lately  took  up,  conjoined  with 
the  one  before  us,  must  greatly  add  to  a  proper  knowledge  of  past 
history,  and  therefore  we  recommend  them  to  be  studied  together. 


219 

Abt.  VII.— -^  The  Bridgewater  Treatises^  on  the  Powei\  Wisdom^  and  Goodness 
of  God,  as  manifested  in  the  Creation.  By  Pxter  Mabk  Rogst,  M.D. 
London.     Pickering.     1834. 

Many  are  the  occasions  on  which  a  right-minded  man  has  to  stand 
up  in  the  support  and  defence  of  divine  truth;  and  in  so  far  as  our 
journal  is  concerned,  it  will  be  found  we  have  never  been  backward 
in  vindicating  its  strictest  principles.  Nor  are  the  weapons  few  or 
weak  that  are  ever  ready  and  even  enlarging  for  the  use  of  any  one 
that  is  willing  to  be  an  advocate  in  the  great  and  good  cause. 
Every  discovery  that  is  made  in  nature  (and  in  modem  times 
science  is  daily  extending  its  reign,  by  splendid,  marvellous  instances 
of  new  light,)  strengthens  the  sacred  doctrines  which  the  best  and 
most  iUustrious  men  have  handed  down  to  us  respecting  the  being 
and  perfections  of  Deity.  And  posterity  will  have  no  cause  to  com- 
plain of  the  present  generation  being  slack  or  impotent  in  coming 
forward  to  enforce  the  claims  of  truth,  thus  evidenced.  The  authors 
of  the  Bridgewater  Treatises,  are  particularly  eminent  in  the  field, 
and  are  no  less  distinguished  for  their  zeal  than  their  enligthened 
philosophy.  Nor  hereafter  need  a  stripling  in  learning  or  know- 
ledge be  at  a  loss,  when  encountered  by  any  champion  of  scepticism, 
to  find  arguments  to  silence  the  most  subtle  disputant,  when  the 
question  at  issue  belongs  to  Natural  I'heology.  And  this  is  no  mean 
advantage ;  for  although  Revelation  alone  points  out  the  way  un- 
erringly to  everlasting  life,  yet  a  beUef  in  the  truths  taught  by  the 
light  of  nature  is  the  ground  work  and  starting  point  of  all 
rdigion. 

Dr.  Roget's  Treatise  now  before  us,  on  animal  and  vegetable 
Physiology,  will  be  found  one  of  the  fiillest,  as  well  as  one  of  the 
latest,  works  on  the  evidences  of  the  power,  the  wisdom  and  good- 
ness of  God,  as  manifested  in  the  living  creation.  It  appears  to  us 
to  contain  not  only  a  careful  collection  of  an  immense  number  of 
facts,  scientifically  arranged,  but  narrated  and  explained  in  a  sin- 
gularly plain  and  attractive  form,  level  to  the  apprehension  of  an 
ordinary  reader,  which,  while  it  is  fitted  to  be  a  valuable  intro- 
duction to  the  study  of  natural  history,  presents  to  the  devotional 
mind  a  rich  fountain  of  religious  instruction.  We  shall  endeavour 
to  gratify  our  readers  with  an  outline  of  the  author's  leading  doc- 
trines, and  to  select  some  of  the  most  important  or  striking  facts 
collected  by  him.  But  it  must  be  borne  in  mind,  that  verbal  de- 
scription can  never  convey  distinct  ideas  of  many  things  contained 
in  this  treatise  unless  aided  by  figures,  which  are  there  inserted 
very  numerously.  The  work  itself  must  therefore  be  resorted  to  by 
all  who  desire  to  reap  great  benefit  from  it. 

Physiology  is  a  science  of  almost  boundless  extent.  As  the 
term  miports,  it  regards  a  knowledge  of  the  phenomena  of  nature, 
as  they  are  exhibited  in  organized  forms.  Comprehending  there- 
fore all  the  animal  and  vegetable  beings  on  earth.  This  knowledge 
is  attainable  by  man,  through  which  no  doubt  he  is  appointed  to 


220  Roget*8  Bridgewater  Treatise. 

gather  many  notions  of  the  Supreme  Being,  and  to  devote  his  sen- 
timents on  the  same  great  theme.  For,  from  the  marks  of  design 
and  skilftd  contrivance  which  we  perceive  in  the  works  of  creation, 
it  is  a  necessary  conclusion  according  to  the  construction  of  oar 
minds,  that  there  was  a  wise  contriver  engaged  in  their  formation. 
In  things  which  are  subject  to  our  vision  and  judgment,  we  find 
mechanism  and  ends  served  by  certain  means,  so  beautifully  simple 
and  efficacious,  that  when,  compared  with  human  ingenuity  as  ap- 
plied to  the  invention  of  machinery,  inevitably  leads  us  to  believe 
that  the  artificer  was  possessed  of  the  most  admirable  powers.  'The 
maker  of  an  hydraulic  eneine  places  valves  in  particular  parts  of 
its  pipes  and  cisterns,  with  a  view  to  prevent  the  retrograde  motion 
of  the  fluids  which  are  to  pass  through  them.  Can  the  valves  of 
the  veins,  or  of  the  lymphatics,  or  of  the  heart,  have  a  different 
object;  and  are  they  not  the  result  of  deliberate  and  express  con- 
trivance in  the.great  Mechanist  of  the  living  frame  ?  The  know- 
ledge of  the  laws  of  electricity  in  its  different  forms  is  one  of  the 
latest  results  which  science  has  revealed  to  man.  Ck)uld  these 
laws  and  their  various  combinations  have  been  unknown  to  the 
Power  who  created  the  torpedo,  and  who  armed  it  with  an  jenergetic 
galvanic  battery,  constructed  upon  the  most  refined  scientific  prin- 
ciples, for  the  manifest  purpose  of  enabling  the  animal  to  strike 
terror  into  its  enemies,  and  paralyse  their  efforts  to  assail  it?* 
Questions  of  a  like  tendency  might  be  put  respecting  every  de- 
partment of  nature,  to  which  the  observations  of  man  have  yet 
reached.  This  sort  of  argument  is  cumulative  ;  the  evidence  ob- 
tained from  one  source  being  uniformly  and  consistently  strength- 
ened by  that  derived  from  another : — 

"  The  more  we  extend  our  kuowledge  of  the  operatious  of  creative  power, 
as  manifested  in  the  structure  and  economy  of  organized  beings,  the  better 
we  become  qualified  to  appreciate  the  intentions  uith  which  the  several 
arrangements  and  constructions  have  been  devised,  the  art  with  which 
they  have  been  accomplished,  and  the  grand  comprehensive  plan  of  which 
they  form  a  part.  By  knowing  the  general  tendencies  of  analogous  forma- 
tions, we  can  sometimes  recognise  designs  that  are  but  faintly  indicated, 
and  trace  the  links  which  connect  them  with  more  general  laws.  By  ren- 
dering ourselves  familiar  with  the  hand-writing  where  the  characters  are 
clearly  legible,  we  gradually  learn  to  decypher  the  more  obscure  passages, 
and  are  enabled  to  follow  the  continuity  of  the  narrative  through  chapters 
Vi  hich  would  otherwise  appear  mutilated  and  defaced.  Hence  the  utility 
of  comprehending  in  our  studies  the  whole  range  of  the  organized  crea- 
tion, with  a  view  to  the  discovery  cf  final  causes,  and  obtaining  adequate 
ideas  of  the  power,  the  wisdom,  and  the  goodness  of  God." — ^vol.  i.  pp.  33, 34. 

These  are  the  words,  which  in  a  fine  spirit  close  the  first  in- 
troductory chapter  of  this  treatise.  The  author  has  been  consider- 
ing the  subject  of  final  causes,  and  next  proceeds  to  a  general  view 
of  thejunctions  of  life,  according  to  the  following  statement: — 

"  The  intentions  of  the  Deity  in  the  creation  of  the  animal  kingdom,  as 
far  as  we  are  competent  to  discern  or  comprehend  them,  are  referable  to 


Regei'i  Bridgewaier  Treatise.  221 

the  following  classes  i>f  objects,  llie  first  relates  to  the  indiTidual  wel- 
fare of  the  animal,  embracing  the  whole  sphere  of  its  sensitive  existence, 
and  the  means  of  maintaining  the  vitality  upon  which  that  existence  is 
dependent.  The  second  comprises  the  provisions  which  have  been  mad^ 
for  repairing  the  chasms  resulting,  in  the  present  circumstances  of  the 
globe,  from  the  continual  destruction  of  life,  by  ensuring  the  multiplication 
of  the  species,  and  the  continuity  of  the  race  to  which  each  animal  belongs. 
The  third  includes  all  those  arrangements  which  have  been  resorted  to  in 
order  to  accommodate  the  system  to  the  consequences  that  follow  from^an 
indefinite  increase  in  the  numbers  of  each  species.  The  fourth  class  re- 
lates to  that  systematic  economy  in  the  plans  of  organization  by  which  all 
the  former  objects  are  most  effectually  secured.  I  shall  offer  some  obser- 
vations on  each  of  these  general  heads  of  enquiry." — vol.  i.  pp.  34,  35. 

With  reference  to  the  welfare  of  the  individual  animal,  he  goes 
on  to  say,  the  great  end  to  be  answered  in  the  brute  creation  is  the 
attainment  of  sensitive  enjoyment.  This  we  ascribe  to  them  by 
reasoning  analogically  from  our  own  experience,  and  from  the  phe- 
nomena which  they  present.  These  indications  of  feeling  are  the 
Tesvilt  ai  SL  nervous  organization.  By  this  organization,  the  im- 
pression made  on  particular  parts  of  the  body,  and  conveyed  to 
the  brain,  are  the  means  by  which  communications  between  the 
sentient  principle  and  external  objects  are  kept  up.  But  the  iacul-  ., 
ties  of  sensation  and  perception  are  not  the  only  paxticalars  that 
distinguish  animal  existence.  Voluntary  motion  has  also  been 
conjoined,  without  which  the  former,  being  nearly  passive,  would 
often  have  been  baneful  endowments.  The  organs  of  voluntary 
motion  comprise  a  certain  mechanism  requisite  for  the  different 
actions  which  the  animal  is  to  ]?erform,  and  the  provision  of  a 
power  capable  of  setting  the  machine  agoing.  For  these  and  other 
purposes  new  materials  are  perpetually  wanted  of  a  nutritive 
kind:-^ 

"  There  is  another,  and  a  most  important  consequence  flowing  from  the 
peculiar  chemical  condition  of  the  materials  of  which  animal  structures 
are  composed.  The  mode  in  which  their  elements  are  combined  is  so 
complex  as  to  require  a  long  and  elaborate  process  to  accomplish  that 
combination ;  and  neither  the  organs  with  which  animals  are  furnished, 
nor  the  powers  with  which  those  organs  are  endowed,  are  adequate  to  the 
conversion  of  the  materials  furnished  by  the  inorganic  world  into  the  sub- 
stances required  for  the  construction  of  their  bodies,  and  the  maintenance 
of  their  powers.  These  inorganic  elements  must  have  passed  through 
intermediate  stages  of  combinatibn,  and  must  have  been  previously  elabo- 
rated by  other  organized  beings.  This  important  oflke  is  consigned  to 
the  vegetable  kingdom.  Receiving  the  simple  food  furnished  by  nature, 
which  consists  chiefly  of  water,  air,  and  carbonic  acid,  together  with  .^ 
a  sm«ll  portion  of  other  substances,  plants  convert  these  aliments 
into  products,  which  not  only  maintain  their  own  vitality,  but  serve  the 
further  purpose  of  supporting  the  life  of  animals.  Thus  was  the  creation 
and  continuance  of  the  vegetable  kingdom  a  necessary  step  towards  the 
existence  of  the  amimal  world ;  as  well  as  a  link  in  the  great  chain  of  be- 
ino-  formed  and  sustained  by  Almighty  power.    The  Physiology  of  Vege- 


222  Roget^s  BridgeunUer  TVeaHse. 

tables  present  many  topics  of  great  interest  with  relation  to  final  causes^ 
and  will  in  this  Treatise  be  reviewed  with  special  reference  to  this  impor- 
tant object. 

"  Nutrition,  both  in  the  vegetable  and  animal  systems,  comprises  a  very 
extended  series  of  operations.  In  the  former  it  includes  the  absorption  of 
the  crude  materials  from  the  siurounding  elements, — their  transmission  to 
organs  where  they  are  aerated,  that  is,  subjected  to  the  chemical  action  of 
th^air; — their  circulation  in  the  different  parts  of  the  plant, — their  further 
elaboration  in  particular  vessels  and  receptacles — their  deposition  of  solid 
materials — and  their  conversion  into  peculiar  products,  as  well  as  into  the 
substances  which  compose  the  several  organs ; — and  finally,  the  growth 
and  developement  of  the  whole  plant. 

"  Still  more  various  and  complicated  are  the  corresponding  functions  in 
animals.  Their  objects  may  be  arranged  under  the  following  general 
heads ;  each,  again,  admitting  of  further  subdivision.  The  first  end  to  be 
accomplished  is  to  animalize  the  food ;  that  is,  to  convert  it  into  a  matter 
having  the  chemical  properties  of  the  animal  substances  with  which  it  is 
to  be  afterwards  incorporated,  llie  entire  change  thus  effected  is  termed 
Assimilation,  of  which  Digestion  forms  a  principal  part.  The  second  ob^ 
ject  is  to  collect  and  distribute  this  prepared  nutriment,  which  is  the 
blood,  to  the  different  organs,  or  wherever  it  may  be  wanted.  The  neces- 
sary motions  for  these  purposes  are  given  to  the  blood  by  the  organs  of 
CircuUUioti,  consisting  of  the  Hearty  which  impels  it  through  a  system  of 
pi^a  called  Arteries,  and  receives  it  back  again  by  means  of  another  set 
of  tubes  called  Veins.  In  the  third  place  it  is  necessary  that  the  circula- 
ting blood  should  continually  undergo  purification  by  the  chemical  action 
of  oxygen  :  a  purpose  which  is  answered  by  the  function  of  Respiration. 
llie  fourth  stage  of  nutrition  relates  to  the  more  immediate  application  of 
this  purified  material  to  the  wants  of  the  system,  to  the  extension  of  the 
organs,  to  the  reparation  oi  their  losses,  and  to  the  restoration  of  their  ex- 
hausecF  powers." — pp.  S9— 42, 

Perpetual  mutation  seems  therefore  to  be  a  fundamental  law  of 
liviDg  nature.  Mortality  is  a  necessary  consequence  from  such  an 
Cftder  of  things ;  and  life  again  19  propagated  through  death.  The 
process  itself^  by  which  the  germs  of  living  beings  originate,  is  veiled 
in  the  most  impenetrable  mystery.  A  portion  of  the  vital  power  of 
the  parent  is  doubtless  employed  in  the  continuance  and  multipli- 
cation of  each  species>  which  our  author  considers  as  the  secona  of 
the  great  ends  to  be  accomplished  in  the  system  of  living  nature. 
Many  of  the  subsequent  steps  in  the  gradual  developement  of  vege- 
table and  animal  organization  may  be  traced,  all  of  which  impress 
us  with  the  noost  exalted  ideas  of  Providence. 

One  v^  remarkable  tendency  belongs  to  every  part  of  living 
nature,  "Much  is  to  be  observed  ia  the  great  soUcitude  to  perpetuate 
its  individual  race  shown  by  each  species ;  as  is  also  the  ample 
scope  aiferded  by  many  provisions,  that  each  may  be  diflhsed  to 
the  greatest  possible  extent,  consistent  with  the  existence  and 
^dl-being  of  every  class.  The  consequences  that  flow  from  this 
law  of  indefinite  production  are  highly  important  and  curious : — 


Roll's  Bridfewater  TreoHse.  i^ 

"  As  animalft  are  oHiinately  d^endcnt  on  the  vegetable  kingdom  for  the 
nuiterials  of  their  sabaistence^  and  aa  the  quantity  of  these  materials  is»  in 
a  state  of  nature*  necessarily  limited  by  tiie  extent  of  surface  over  which* 
vegetation  is  spread,  a  time  must  arrive  when  the  number  of  animab  thQ» 
oontinuaUy  increasing  is  exactly  such  as  the  amount  of  food  produced  by 
the  earth  will  maintain.  When  this  limit  has  been  attained,  no  further 
increase  can  take  place  in  their  number,  except  by  resorting  to  the  ejq>e- 
dient  which  we  find  actually  adopted,  namely,  that  of  employing  ^e  sub- 
stance of  one  animal  for  the  nourishment  of  others.  Thus  the  identical 
combinations  of  elements,  effeeted  by  the  powers  of  vegetation,  are  trans- 
ferred in  succession  from  one  living  being  to  another,  and  become  subser- 
vient to  the  maintenance  of  a  great  number  of  different  animals  before 
they  finally,  by  the  process  of  decomposition,  revert  to  their  original  inor- 
ganic state." — ^vol.  i.  pp.  44,  45. 

The  ordinance  has  therefore  been  issued  to  a  large  portion  of 
the  animal  kingdom,  that  they  are  to  maintain  themselves  by  prey- 
ing upon  other  animals^  which  leads  us  to  the  consideration  of 
new  conditions  of  organization  and  of  functions,  and  new  relations 
among  the  different  races  of  animals.  Marvellous  variety  is  the 
result  of  these  laws,  which,  however,  is  not  blindly  or  indiscrimi- 
nately arrived  at,  as  is  apparent  from  its  being  controlled  by  the 
law  of  conformity  to  a  definite  type,  so  striking  in  certain  general 
resemblances  among  great  multitudes  of  species,  which  lead  to 
classifications  more  or  less  comprehensive.  There  is,  therefore,  a 
systematic  economy  in  the  plans  of  organization,  which,  whilst  it 
admits  of  the  finest  displays  of  variety,  tends  consistently  to  the 
same  general  purpose,  wherein  goodness  and  wisdom  are  trans- 
cendantly  conspicuous,  and  made  the  more  gloriously  to  appear  by 
ervery  discovery  of  anatomy  and  physiology. 

The  author  in  his  preliminary  chi4>ter  on  the  funciions  of  life^ 
after  a  general  consideration  of  the  intentions  of  the  Deity  in  the 
Creadon  of  living  nature,  which  we  have  cursorily  gleaned  from, 
and  after  glancing  at  certain  theories  which  we  pass  over,  has  this 
coDcktding  paragraph  as  to  the  farther  progress  and  plan  of  this 
treatise : — 

**  lu  treating  of  the  particular  functions  of  the  animal  and  vegetable 
economy  I  shd^  follow  a  different  order  from  that  in  which  I  have  pre- 
sented them  in  the  preceding  sketch.  As  the  Mechanical  fimctions  depend 
upon  the  simnler  properties  of  matter  and  the  well  known  laws  di  me- 
danism,  1  think  it  best  to  commence  with  the  examination  of  these. 
Our  attention  will  next  be  directed  to  the  highly  interesting  aukjects  whick 
relate  to  the  Nutritive  or  Vital  lanctiona  boCk  of  vegetable  and  aninal 
struetures ;  kir  as  they  involve  the  chemical  properties  of  organized  sub- 
stances, and  are,  therefore,  of  a  more  refined  and  intricate  nature  than  the 
preceding,  I  conceive  they  will  be  best  understood  after  the  general  me* 
chanism  of  the  frame  has  been  explained.  These  studies  will  prepare  ua 
for  the  consideration  of  living  animals  as  sentient  and  active  beings^ 
endowed  by  their  bounteous  Creator  with  the  exalted  faculties  of  perception 
and  of  volition,  which  alone  give  value  to  existence,  and  which  raise  them 


404  Roget*8  Bridgewater  Tt^Ue. 

so  fur  above  the  level  of  the  vegetable  world.  I  shall  lastly  give  a  very 
brief  account  of  the  reproductive  functions,  and  of  the  phenomena  of  animal 
developement,  in  which  the  discoveries  of  modem  times,  have  revealed  to 
us  80  considerable  a  portion  of  those  extensive  plans  which  an  all- wise 
Providence  has  beneficently  devised  for  the  general  welfture  of  animated, 
beings." — ^vol  i.  p.  58. 

The  first  part  of  this  work  treats,  according  to  the  author's 
plan,  of  the  mechanical  functions,  in  which  he  begins  with  organic 
mechanism.  And  here  on  the  subject  of  organization  in  general^  we 
have  the  following  amazing  facts  stated: — 

"  Life,  which  consists  of  a  continued  series  of  actions  directed  to  parti- 
Qular  purposes,  cannot  be  carried  on  but  by  the  instrumentality  of  those 
peculiar  and  elaborate  structures  and  combinations  of  material  particles 
which  constitute  organizcUion,  .  All  these  arrangements,  both  as  respects 
the  mechanical  configuration  ^d  the  chemical  constitution  of  the  elements 
of  which  the  organized  body  is  composed,  even  when  apparently  most 
simple,  are,  in  reality,  complex  and  artificial  in  the  highest  possible  degree. 
Let  us  take  as  a  specimen  the  crystalline  lens,  or  hard  central  part,  of  the 
e\  e  of  a  cod  fish,  which  is  a  perfectly  transparent,  and  to  all  appearance 
homogeneous,  spherule.  No  one,  unaccustomed  to  explore  the  wondeis 
of  nature,  would  suspect  that  so  simple  a  body,  which  he  tnight  suppose 
to  be  formed  of  a  uniform  material  cast  in  a  mould,  would  disclose,  when 
examined  under  a  powerful  microscope,  and  with  the  skill  of  a  Brewster, 
the  most  refined  and  exquisite  conformation.  Yet,  as  I  shall  have  occa- 
sion to  specify  more  in  detail  in  its  proper  place,  this  little  spherical  body, 
scarcely  larger  than  a  pea,  is  composed  of  upwards  of  five  millions  of  fibres, 
which  lock  into  one  another  by  means  of  more  than  sixty-two  thousand 
ftve  hundred  millions  of  teeth.  If  such  be  the  complication  of  a  portion 
only  of  the  eye  of  that  animal,  how  intricate  must  be  the  structure  of  the 
other  parts  of  the  same  organ,  having  equally  important  ofiices  !  What 
exquisite  elaboration  must  those  textures  have  received*  whose  functions 
are  stiU  more  refined !  What  marvellous  workmanship  must  have  been 
exercised  in  the  organization  of  the  nerves  and  of  the  brain,  whose  subtle 
instruments  of  the  higher  animal  faculties,  and  of  which  even  the  modes 
of  action  are  to  us  not  merely  inscrutable,  but  surpassing  all  our  powers 
of  conception." — vol.  i.  pp.  59,  60. 

.  What  fabric  framed  by  man  ever  approached  in  refinement  this 
specimen  ?  The  author  goes  on  to  state,  that  all  organic  and  living 
structures,  must  be  composed  of  solid  as  well  as  fluid  partfl, 
although  the  proportion  between  these  is  in  different  cases  aknost 
infinitely  varied.  A  dormant  vitality  may,  indeed,  exist  in  a  sys- 
tem of  organs  which  have  been  brought  into  a  perfectly  dry  state, 
as  in  the  case  of  vegetable  seed,  and  many  species  of  animalcules, 
and  even  of  some  frorms,  which  after  an  indefinite  length'  of  time, 
having  been  kept  dry,  resume  their  activity  when  moistened,  as  if 
restored  to  life.  Such  as  the  tDheel  animalcule.  This  atom  of  dust, 
as  it  only  amounts  to  in  size,  may  remain  for  years  as  such  in  a 
dry  state,  and  yet  may  be  revived  in  a  few  minutes  by  being  again 
supplied  with  water.  The  same  thing  holds  true  of  an  animalcule, 
resembling  an  eel  in  its  shape,  when  viewed  through  a  miseroscope. 


RugeVs  Bridgemater  Treatise,  2*25 

which  infects  difleased  wheat :  when  dried^  it  appears  in  the  form  of 
a  fine  powder^  but  when  moistened  it  resumes  its  living^  state.  But 
how  can  one  hear  of  these  things  without  being  lost  in  a  wonder^ 
only  to  be  equalled  by  the  knowledge  which  the  telescope  has 
opened  up!— ^for  if  the  heavenly  bodies  be  to  our  apprehension 
infinitely  numerocls  and  great,  the  animals  that  teem  in  every  mi- 
nute fragment  of  the  globe  are  infinitely  small,  and  no  less  count- 
less in  number. 

What  seems  to  be  the  simplest  form  of  organization  is  to  be 
found  in  vegetables ;  they  are  limited  in  their  economy  to  the 
fiinotions  of  nutrition  and  reproduction,  and  are  very  different  from 
sentient,  active;  and  locomotive  animals.  We  cannot  find  room 
for  any  part  of  the  curious  facts  which  the  author  has  well  arranged 
respecting  the  wonderfully  minute  and  skilfiil  structure  of  vegetable 
substances.  But  without  this  physiological  knowledge,  every  one 
tnnst  be  astonished  when  he  contemplates  the  mann^  in  which  a 
large  tree  is  chained  to  the  earthy  or,  when  he  considers  the  stems 
of  the  grasses,  which  are  hollow  tubes,  and  demonstrably  the  most 
effective  construction  of  a  column  for  obtaining  the  greatest  possi- 
ble degree  of  strength.  So  that  Galileo,  when  interrogated  by  the 
inquisition  as  to  his  belief  in  a  Supreme  Being,  replied,  pointing  to 
a  straw  on  the  floor  of  his  dungeon,  that,  from  the  structure  of  that 
object  alone^  he  would  infer  with  certainty  the  existence  of  an  in- 
telligent Creator : — : 

'  "  The  graceful  continuous  curve  with  which  the  stem  of  a  tree  rises 
from  the  ground,  is  the  form  which  is  best  calculated  to  give  stability  to 
fh<^  trunk.  Evidence  of  express  mechanical  design  is  likewise  afforded  by 
tiie  manner  in  which  the  truuk  is  subdivided  into  its  branches,  spreading 
out  in  all  directions,  manifestly  with  a  view  to  procure  for  the  leaves  the 
greatest  extent  of  surface,  and  thus  enable  them  to  receive  the  fullest 
action  of  both  light  and  air.  The  branches,  also,  are  so  constructed  as  to 
yield  to  the  irregular  impulses  of  the  wind,  and' again,  by  their  elasticity, 
to  return  to  their  natural  positions,  and  by  these  alternate  inflexions  on 
opposite  aides,  to  promote  the  motion  of  the  sap  in  the  vessels  and  cellular 
texture  of  the  liber  and  alburnum.  Nothing  can  exceed  the  elegance  of 
those  forms  which  are  presented  in  every  part  of  the  vegetable  kingdom, 
whether  they  be  considered  with  reference  to  their  direct  utility  for  the 
support  of  individual  life,  and  the  continua^nce  of  the  species,  or  whether 
they  be  viewed'  as  component  parts  of  that  beauty  which  is  spread  over 
the  scenery  of  nature,  and  is  so  delightfully  refreshing  to  the  eye  of  every 
beholder  dive  to  its  fascinating  charms*  How. enchanting  are  all  the 
varieties  of  flowers,  that  decorate-  in  gay  profusion  every  part  of  the  gar- 
den of  creation ;  and  into  which  the  faither  we  carry  our  philosophic 
scrutiny,  the  more  forcibly  will  pur  hearts  be  impressed  with  the  truth  of 
the  divine  appeal,  that  '  Even  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  was  not  arrayed 
like  one  of  these.'  " — vol.  i.  pp.  81,  82. 

But  the  organization  of  animcds  rises  much  above  that  of  vege^ 
tables  in  point  of  complexity,  and  yet  its  simplicity  when  taken  in 
connexion  with  what  it  can  accomplish,  is  not  the  least  testimony 

VOL.  III.    (1834.)    NO.  If.  R 


226  Rogei's  BrUgewaier  Treatise. 

to  the  master-skill  of  the  Artificer.  Bat  to  pMtt  over  the  mholm 
of  the  disquisition  afforded  by  the  author  on  this  subject^  let  ua  ibf 
a  moment  advert  to  the  fact,  that^  anUke  every  piece  of  machinery 
made  by  man^  a  living  body  contains  vithin  itself  a  principle  ^ 
motion,  quite  distinct,  from  the  force  which  keeps  a  watch  in  ae- 
tion;  for  this  may  be  traced  to  the  hand  which  coiled  the  spring ; 
or  in  the  steam-engine  to  the  fire,  which  has  imparted  elasticity' 
to  the  vapour.  We  can  only  give  part  of  the  author*s  summing 
up  of  a  section  of  his  work,  which,  were  it  before  our  readers,  as  it 
at  this  moment  is  c^n  to  our  eyes,  would  appear  to  them  by  no 
means  the  most  valuable  passage;  it  is,  however,  one  that  can  be 
most  easily  understood,  in  the  shape  of  an  extract : 

'*  The  infinite  mechanicaL  skill,  with  which  the  moving  power  has  been 
applied  to  the  purposes  to  be  accomplished,  is  displayed  not  only  in  the 
larger  organs,  where  great  force  is  to  be  exerted,  but  also,  in  a  still  more 
ooospicuous  manner,  in  the  execution  of  the  amaller  motions,  requiring 
the  most  accurate  regulation,  tai^  the  nicest  adjustments.  We  cannot  but 
be  struck  with  tibe  acoordanoe  which  saay  often,  in  these  instances,  be 
traced  with  hnsian  contrivances^  where  tjbe  greater  motions  are  rapidly 
executed  by  one  set  of  agents,  actiag  with  considerable  power  and  ve- 
locity, while  the  minuter  approximations  to  the  exact  positions  are  effected 
by  a  distinct  part  of  the  apparatus,  capable  of  more  delicate  action,  though 
with  a  smaller  force.  Thus,  while  the  astronomer  brings  his  telescope 
round  by  powerful  machinery,  so  as  to  direct  it  to  that  part  of  the  hoi- 
vens,  where  the  object  he  wishes  to  view  is  situated,  a  more  nice  mocka- 
nism  is  employed  to  direct  the  instrument  accurately  to  the  exact  point : 
and^  again,  another  is  provided  for  making  the  proper  focal  adjuatoienta. 
Many  paraHel  cases  occur  in  the  mechanism  of  the  aDimal  frame ;  eite  aet 
of  powerful  muscles  being  employed  for  the  larger  movements*  aad  an- 
other set  provided  for  the  accurate  regukttion  of  the  more  delicate  inflex* 
ions  and  nicer  positions.  This  we  shall  find  exemplified  in  the  movoneals 
of  the  fingers,  and  of  many  of  the  <Mrgans  of  the  finer  senses.  "-^-voL  i.  pp. 
139—140. 

The  author  next  proceeds  to  discuss  in  distinct  chapteva,  the 
mechanical  functions  of  several  different  grades  of  animals,  begin- 
ning with  Zoophytes,  that  is,  animated  plants,  or  what  has  been 
more  properly  designated  Phytozoa,  that  is,  plant*like  animals. 
These  form,  the  lowest  stations  in  the  scale  of  organizationj  b^jinning 
with  the  various  species  of  sponge,  which  are  met  witih  in  multi* 
tildes  an  every  locky  coast  of  the  oceai^  from  the  shores  of  Gxeen- 
kMid  to  those  of  Australia.  The  series  which  he  nex^t  arrives  at  is 
the  MoUusea,  which  embraces  the  oyster>  the  muscle,  the  oodde, 
animals  very  imperfectly  furnished  with  organs  of  k«oraotioii,'at 
l^ast  after  having  arrived  at  a  c«i;ain  pwied  of  their  growth;  fior 
immediately  after  they  are  hatched,  they  are  free  to  move  in  tlie 
water,  in  search  of  a  habitation.  In  this  chapter,  the  ybrota^ton  cf 
shells  affords  much  interesting  discussion.  AriHulated  ommats 
«  general,  the  lowest  division  of  which  have  a  vermi-fcorm  shape^ 


Rogtfg  Bridjfewater  TreatUd  227 

8Qch  as  tbe  eaarth^wotm,  follour  the  Mollusca.    Spiders  are  anoiheif 
of  the  divisions  in  this  section. 

"  In  oonmon  -wich  all  Mrticiiktod  animals,  dpiders,  in  the  progress  of 
their  growth,  cast  their  outer  skm  sererai  times,  and  at  regolaf  periodi. 
In  the  eartier  stages  of  their  existence,  althoun^h  they  have  the  geneial' 
Ibtm  of  the  ntaenie  insei^«  yet  they  ha^e  a  soudler  nnmber  of  lege  j  the 
kst  fMdr  not  ntakhiff  their  appsaianpe  till  after  the  spider  baa  attained  a 
certain  site.  We  nnjr  here  ttace  ^e  consmeqoesient  of  that  system  of 
natamorphosis,  wbieh«  as  we  lAiall  itfterwards  find,  is  carried  to  so  great  a 
length  in  winged  insects. 

''  Seders  are  endowed  widi  evtepsive  powen  of  progressive  motion, 
and  display  great  activity  and  energy  in  aU  their  movements.  The  long 
and  daatic  lunhs  on  which  the  body  is  suspended^  being  firmly  braced  by 
Asir  articalationsf  liable  tiie  muscles  to  act  with  great  mechanical  advan^ 
ttie  in  accelerating  the  progresrion  of  the  body.  Hence  these  animals^ 
aye  enabled  to  nm  with  great  swtftness,  and  to  spring  ftom  considerable' 
dhtaacason  their  prey ;  powers  whidi  were  necessary  to  those  tribes  that 
five  aMegetiier  by  the  eluise.  The  greater  number  of  species,  however, 
as  is  yfm  known,  are  provided  with  a  c«rk>OB  apparatus  for  spinning 
threads,  oad  for  constructing  webs  to  entente  flies  amd  other  saoall  insects. 
Bvery  species  Hi  spider  weaves  its  web  in  a  manner  pecvhar  to  itself :  and, 
besides  the  prine^  web,  they  often  constmct  in  the  neighbourhood  a 
flssoller  one,  in  the  form  of  a  ceU,  in  whidi  they  eonoeal  themselves,  and 
fie  in  orabash  for  their  prey.  Between  this  cell  aad  Ite  principal  weir 
they  extend  a  thread  of  communication,  and  by  the  vibrations  faito  which: 
it  is  Arowi!^,  on  the  contact  of  any  solid  body,  the  q[»derk  immediately 
Bcqnainted  with  the  events  and  puMies  ^cUy  1»  the  spot,  by  the  sesist-' 
asce  ef  Ac  same  thread. 

"  Some  species  have  the  power  ef  conveying  tfMmsslves  to  considerable 
distances  dnrough  the  air  by  means  of  thteads  which  tbey  dart  ont,  and 
wliieli  are- borne  onwards  by  the  iifind,  while  the  ^der  isdhiging  to  the' 
end  of  the  thread  which  n  next  to  it.  In  Ihis  manner  these  ifiders  are 
often  carried  up  to  a  great  height  in  the  air :  add  it  has  been  supposed 
that  during  their  flight  they  often  seiae  upon  gnats  and  other  flies ;  be<-' 
canoe  the  mutilated  remains  of  these  insects  are  often  seen  adhering  to  the 
^^r^'^y :  this  point,  however,  is  open  to  much  doubt." — ^vol.  i.  pp.  283 — 5. 

Crwsiaeea  are  also  arranged  under  the  bead  of  articulated  ani- 
mala,  whose  calcareous  coverings  are  analogous  to  shell  both  in 
stmciaze  and  eompositian.  But  this  solid  structure  does  not  admit 
of  inesease  by  the  extenaioii  of  its  own  parts. 

**  The  tendency  ia  the  body  and  in  the  limbs  to  expand  during  growth 
in  lesfaiiiiid  by  tbe  liauited  dimensions  of  the  shell,  which  resists  tiie  ef- 
forts to  enlarge  its  diameter.  But  this  force  of  expansion  goee  on  in- 
creasiog»  till  at  length  it  is  productive  of  much  uneasiness  to  the  ani- 
mal, which  is»  in  consequence^  prompted  to  make  a  violent  effort  to  re- 
lieve itself :  by  this  means  it  generally  succeeds  in  bursting  the  shell ; 
and  then,  by  dint  of  repeated  struggles,  extricates  its  body'  and  its  limbs. 
The  lobster  first  withdraws  its  claws,  and  then  its  feet,  as  if  it  were  pull- 
ing' them  out  of  a  pair  of  boots :  the  head  next  throws  oiF  its  case,  toge- 
Aer  with  its  antennee ;  and  the  two  eyes  are  disengaged  from  tbeir  homy 
pedicles.     In  this  operaticvi,  not  only  the  complex  spparatm  of  the  jaws, 

r2 


228  Roget^s  Bridgewater  Treatise. 

but  even  the  homy  cuticle  and  teeth  of  the  stomach,  are  all  cast  oflP  along 
with  the  shell :  and,  last  of  all,  the  tail  is  extricated.  But  the  whole  pro- 
cess is  not  accomplished  without  long  continued  efforts.  Sometimes  the 
legs  are  lacerated  or  torn  off,  in  the  attempt  to  withdraw  them  from  the 
shell ;  and  in  the  younger  Crustacea  the  operation  is  not  unfrequently  fatal. 
£ven  when  successfully  accomplished  it  leaves  the  animal  in  a  most  lan- 
guid state  :  the  limbs,  being  soft  and  pliant,  are  scarcely  able  to  drag  the 
body  along.  They  are  not,  however,  left  altogether  without  defence. 
For  some  time  before  the  old  shell  was  cast  off,  preparations  had  been 
making  for  forming  a  new  one.  The  membrane  which  lined  the  shell 
bad  been  acquiring  greater  density ,^and  had  already  collected  a  quantity 
of  liquid  materials  proper  for  the  consolidation  of  the  new  shell.  These 
materials  are  mixed  with  a  large  proportion  of  colouring  matter,  of  a 
bright  scarlet  hue,  giving  it  the  appearance  of  red  blood,  though  it  differs 
totally  from  blood  in  all.  its  other  properties.  As  sOon  as  the  shell  is  cast 
off,  this  membrane,  by  the  pressure  from  within,  is  suddenly  expanded, 
and,  by  the  rapid  growtli  of  the  soft  parts,  soon  acquires  a  much  larger  size 
than  the  former  shell.  Then  the  process  of  hardening  the  calcareous  in- 
gredient commences,  and  is  rapidly  completed ;  while  an  abundant  supply 
of  fresh  matter  is  added  to  increase  the  strength  of  the  solid  walls  which 
are  thus  constructing  for  the  support  of  the  animal.  Reaumur  estimates 
that  the  lobster  gains,  during  each  change  of  its  covering,  an  increase  of 
one-fifth  of  its  former  dimensions.  When  the  animal  has  attained  its  full 
size,  no  operation  pi  thijs  kind  is.  required,  ^nd  the  same  shell  is  perma- 
nently retained. 

'*  A  provision  appears  to  be  made,  in  the  anterior  of  the  animal,  for  the 
supply  of  the  laige  quantity  of  calcareous  majbter  required  for  the  con- 
struction of  the  shell  at  the  proper  time.  A  magazine  of  carbonate  of 
lime  is  collected,  previous  to  each  change  of  shell,  in  the  form  of  two 
rounded  masses,  one  on  each  side  of  the  stomach.  In  the  Crab  these  balls 
have  received  the  absurd  ni^me  of  crab^s  eyes ;  and  during  the  formation 
of  the  shell  they  disappear." — vol.  i.  pp.  292—4. 

Another  most  amazing  provision  is  made  for  animals  of  this  class: 
it  is  well  known  when  deprived  of  a  claw^  that  that  part  is  soon  re- 
placed by  one  which  grows  from  the  stump  of  the  one  lost.  But 
we  have  only  got  to  the  middle  of  the  first  volume,  by  the  foregoing 
notices;  and  every  succeeding  page  is  as  interesting  and  full  of 
wonder  as  those  which  have  preceded  it.  0/ insects,  the  metamor- 
phoses that  many  of  them  undergo,  their  flight,  their  number, 
beauty  and  variety,  we  therefore  must  extract  nothing.  But,  as  the 
author  says,  if  it  be  pleasing  to  trace  the  footsteps  of  nature  in  con- 
structions so  infinitely  varied  as  those  of  the  lower  animals',  and  to 
follow  the  gradations  of  ascent  from  the  Zoophyte  to  the  winged 
insect,  still  more  interesting  must  be  the  study  of  those  more  elabo- 
rate efforts  of  creative  power  which  are  displayed  on  a  wider  field  in 
the  higher  orders  of  the  animal  kingdom.  The  result  of  these  con- 
structions is  seen  in  vast  series  of  Vertebrated  Animals,  which 
comprehends  all  the  larger  species  on  the  globe,  including  man  him- 
self, at  the  summit  of  the  scale.  In  this  extended  series  thei^  is  at 
first  sight  a  most  remarkable  distinction  when  compared  with  those 


Roget*8  Bridgewater. Treatise.  229 

that  have  gone  before.  For  whilst  in  this  the  solid  frame  work  is 
in  general  internal,  surrounded  by  the  softer  organs,  in  thai  the 
softer  parts  are  internal,  and  enclosed  in  a  crust.  The  uses  which 
sach  an  airangement  serves  are  many  and  mighty,  as  the  mind  at 
once  perceives;  but  a  perusal  df  the  treatise  before  us  will  astonish 
the  reader  with  an  immense  number  more,  which  we  cannot  eVen 
glance  at  in  this  notice.  The  formation  and  developement  of  bone, 
the  construction  of  the  vertebral  column,  and  many  other  processes 
connected  with  ossification  as  here  detailed,  overwhelm  the  contem- 
plative mind  with  an  admiring  wonder,  that  can  only  find  any  thing 
Uke  adequate  expression  in  an  act  of  adoration. 

"  The  purposes  to  be  answered  by  the  skeleton,  in  vertebrated  animals, 
resolve  themselves  into  the  three  following ;  first,  the  affording  mechanical 
support  to  the  body  generally,  and  also  to  different  portions  of  the  body ; 
secondly,  the  providing  a  sohd  baeis  for  the  attachments  of  the  muscles 
which  are  to  effect  their  movements ;  and  thirdly,  the  giving  protection  to. 
the  vital  organs,  and  more  particularly  to  the  central  parts  of  the  nervous 
system.  Of  these  the  last  is  the  circumstance  that  has  the  greatest  influ- 
ence in  determining  the  principles  on  which  the  osseous  frame  ^work  has 
been  constructed.  In  the  nervous  system  of  all  the  animals  coming  under 
the  denomination  of  vertebrata,  the  spinal  marrow,  together  with  the 
brain,  (which  may,  indeed,  be  considered  as  the  anterior  extremity  of  ^e 
spinal  mairow,  only  much  enlarged  by  an  additional  mass  of  nervous 
substance,)  are  the  most  important  parts  of  that  system,  and  the  organs 
which  stand  most  in  need  of  protection  from  every  kind  of  injury.  These 
two  portions  of  the  nervous  system,  when  viewed  as  composing  a  single 
organ,  have  been  denominated  the  spino-cerebrcU  axis^  in  contradistinc- 
tion to  the  analogous  parts  of  the  nervous  system  of  articulated  animals : 
for  amidst  great  differences  of  structure  and  of  functions,  an  analogy  is 
still  retained  among  the  several  forms  of  the  nervous  system,  character- 
ising these  two  great  divisions  of  the  animal  kingdom.  In  the  embryo 
state  of  the  vertebrata  the  central  parts  of  that  system  consist  of  two 
separate  filaments,  running  parallel  to  each  other  the  whole  length  of  the 
body :  but  in  process  of  time  these  two  filcuoaents  unite,  and  constitute  a' 
single  spinal  cord :  and  the  primary  type  of  the  skeleton  is  determined  by 
the  peculiar  fc»m  of  this,  the  central  organ  of  the  nervous  system. 

"  In  laying  the  foundations  of  the  skeleton,  then,  the  first  object  is  to 
provide  for  the  security  of  the  spinal  cord;  and  this  is  accomplished  by 
enclosing  it  within  a  series  of  cartilaginous  rings,  which  are  destined  to 
shield  it  during  its  growth,  and,  by  their  subsequent  ossification,  to  protect 
it  most  effectually  from  all  injurious  pressure.  It  is  this  part  of  the  ske- 
leton, accordingly,  of  which  the  rudiments  appear  the  earliest  in  the  embryo 
animal.  These  rings  form  a  column,  extending  in  a  longitudinal  direction 
along  the  trunk ;  retracing  to  us  the  series  of  homy  rings,  in  which  the 
bodies  of  worms,  of  insects,  and  indeed  of  all  the  Articulata^  are  encased. 
When  ossified,  these  several  rings  are  termed  veriebrce ;  and  the  entire 
column  which  they  compose  is  the  Spine, 

*'  Nor  is  the  spine  of  less  importance  when  viewed  in  its  mechanical 
relaticms  to  the  rest  of  the  skeleton.  It  is  the  great  central  beam  of  the 
fiabric,  establishing  points  of  union  between  all  its  parts,  and  combining- 


280  BogeiU  BrUfewMier  Tveati^fe^ 

them  into  one  continaous  frame<>work :  it  is  thegeqend  axis  of  all  thdf 
motions,  or  the  common  fulcrum  on  wfaieh  the  pnncipal  bones  of  the  ex-* 
tremities  are  made  to  turn  i  it  fumiahes  fixed  points  of  attachment  to  all 
the  large  muscles  which  act  upon  these  bones  aa  levers,  and  also  to  thoae 
which  move  the  trunk  itself. 

"  If  this  Qolmnp  bad  been  perfectly  rigid^  the  whole  frame-irork  would 
hc^ye  been  exposed  to  inconvenience^  and  #ven  danger,  amidst  the  ahocka 
it  must  encounter  during  all  the  quick  and  sudden  rnqyements  of  the  body. 
Not  only  must  its  mechanism  be  framed  to  sustain  these  shocks,  but  also 
to  accommodate  itself  to  various  kinds  of  flexionsi  and  twistings  of  the 
trunk.  While  these  objects  are  provided  for,  care  must  at  the  same  time 
be  tfJcen  that  the  spinal  marrow  it  encloses  shall,  amidst  all  these  motions, 
remain  secure  &om  pressure ;  lor  so  delicate  is  its  structure  that  the  least 
degree  of  compression  would  at  once  interrupt  its  functions,  and  lead  to 
the  most  fatal  consequences.  A  safe  passage  is  likewise  to  be  afforded  to 
the  nerves,  which  issue  from  the  spinal  marrow,  at  certain  intervale,  on 
each  side,  throughout  its  whole  length. 

"  No  where  ha&  mechanieal  art  been  more  conspicuously  displayed  thaa 
in  the  construction  oi  a  fiabric  capable  of  fulfilling  these  opposite,  and  wp^ 
parently  incompatible  functions,  llie  principal  difficulty  was  to  combine 
great  strength  with  sufficient  flexibility.  This  we  find  acoompliahed,  first, 
by  the  division  of  the  column  into  a  great  number  of  pieces,  each  of  whidi 
being  locked  in  with  the  two  adjoining  pieces,  and,  tightly  bmeed  by  oon- 
necting  ligaments,  is  allowed  but  a  very  small  degree  ^f  jlexicm  at  the 
point  of  junction.  This  slight  flexion  at  each  single  joint,  however,  by 
becoming  multiplied  along  the  series,  amounts  to  a  eonsidenible  degree  ot 
motion  in  the  whole  eolumn." — ^vol.  i.  pp*  889 — 390. 

Fishes  occupy  the  lowest  rank-  (rf  vertebrated  animals;  of  ter* 
retrial  tribesi  reptiles  and  those  that  are  amphibious  are  the  next 
in  ascent.  Mammalia  is  the  highest  division,  and  presenting  a 
9iigbty  class  of  animals;  comprebendiiuB;  all  those  which  possess  a 
spinal  column,  breathy  air  by  means  of  lungs,  and  are  also  warm- 
blooded and  viviparous;  conditions  which  render  it  necessary  that 
tiivy  should  possess  orgaaa,  called  mammig,  endowed  with  the  pow^ 
of  pre|)aring  milk  fior  the  nourishment  of  their  young.  These  are 
not  exclusively  land  animals;  some  are  amphibious,  and  some 
aquatic;  but  as  they  all  possess  in  common  the  essential  eharaoters 
of  internal  structure  and  of  fiincticms  above  enumamted,  which  also 
belong  to  the  human  species,  they  claim  to  be  ranked  together,  and 
our  deepest  interest  belongs  to  them.  Let  it  be  remarked,  however, 
that  the  law  of  uniformity  in  the  plan  of  construction  of  all  th^ 
animals  belonging  to  the  same  class,  is  strikingly  shown  in  various 

SiTts  of  the  animals  therein  included.  Fox  instance,  although  in 
e  anterior  extremities  of  the  C^acea,  which  ii|plude  the  whole, 
they  present  ei^temally  no  resemblance  (o  the  leg  and  foot  of  a  qqia* 
druped,  yet  behig  fashioned  into  fin-like  members,  and  wh^a  the 
hones  are  stripp^  of  the  thick  integument  which  covers  them,  we 
find  that  they  exhibit  the  same  divisions  as  exist  in  the  most  higlily 
developed  organization.     But  it  is  man  who  is  both  {physically  airf 


RffM'g  BridffewUer  Treaiite.  331 

physiblegically  Ipkoed  lacoiitestably  at  the  sununit  of  the  scale  of 
tenrestvifld  beiikgs.  It  i»  aot^  however^  on  a  pe-eminence  in  any 
single  quality  that  this  superiority  can  be  founaed,  but  in  a  general 
adaptation  to  an  incomparably  greater  variety  of  objects,  and  our 
infinitely  moire  expanded  sphere  of  action,  than  any  other  animal. 
Destined  to  piossess  an  intellectual,  a  social,  and  a  moral  existence, 
man  has  had  every  part  of  his  organization  modified  with  an  express 
relation  to  these  great  objects  of  his  formation:  for  instance,  it  is 
impossible  to  doubt  that  nature  intended  man  to  assume  the  erect 
attitude. 

"  The  space  cpmpreliended  by  the  two  feet  is  extremely  narrow,  when 
compared  with  the  extended  base  on  which  the  quadruped  is  supported : 
kenee  the  stability  of  the  body  must  be  considerably  less.     The  statue  of 
an  elephant  placed  upon  a  level  surface,  would  stand  without  danger  of 
oversetting ;  but  the  statue  of  a  man  resting  on  the  feet,  in  the  usual  at- 
titude of  standing,  would  be  thrown  down  by  a  very  small  impulse.  •  It  is 
errident,  indeed,  that  in  the  living  body,  if  the  centre  of  gmvity  were 
at  any  moment  to  pass  beyond  the  base,  no  muscular  effort  which  could 
then  be  made  would  avail  to  prevent  the  body  from  falling.    But  the  ac- 
tions of  the  muscles  are  continually  exerted  to  prevent  the  yielding  of  the 
joints  under  the  weight  of  the  body,  which  tends  to  bend  them.    In  qua- 
drupeds less  exertion  is  requisite  for  that  purpose ;  and  standing  is  in  them, 
as  we  have  seen,  a  posture  of  comparative  repose  :  in  man  it  requires  nearly 
as  great  an  expenditure  of  muscular  power  as  the  act  of  walldng.     Sol- 
diers on  parade  experience  more  fatigue  by  remaining  in  the  attitude  of 
standing,  than  they  would  by  marching  during  an  equal  time.     Strictly 
speaking,  indeed,  it  is  impossible  for  even  the  strongest  man  to  remain  on 
his  legSi  in  precisely  the  same  position,  for  any  considerable  length  of 
time.     The  muscle  in  action  soon  become  fatigued,  and  require  to  be  re- 
lieved by  varying  the  points  of  support,  so  as  to  bring  other  muscles  into 
play.     Hence  the  weight  of  the  body  is  transferred  sJternately  from  one 
foot  to  the  other.     The  action  of  standing  consists,  in  fact,  of  a  series  of 
small  and  imperceptible  motions,  by  which  the  centre  of  gravity  is  perpe- 
tually sbifteo  from  one  part  of  the  base  to  another ;  the  tendency  to  fiJl 
to  any  one  aide  being  quickly  counteracted  by  an  insensible  movement  in 
a  contrary  direction.     Long  habit  has  rendered  us  unconscious  of  these 
exertions,  which  we  are,  nevertheless,   continiially  making ;  but  a  child 
leanuog  to  walk  finds  it  difficult  to  accomplish  them  successfully.    It  is 
one  BSfioag  those  arts  which  he  has  to  acquire,  and  which  costs  him  in  the 
apprentioeship  many  painfiil  efforts,  and  many  discouraging  falls.     But 
whenever  tiature  is  the  teacher,  the  scholar  makes  rapid  progress  in  learn- 
ing.; and  no  sooner  have  the  muscles  acquired  the  necessary  strength,  than 
the  child  beeomes  an  adept  in  balancing  its  body  in  various  attitudes,  and, 
in  a  very  short  time  is  unconscious  that  these  actions  require  exertion.'* 
— ^voL  i.  pp.  541, 54€. 

The  seccmd  volume  commaices  with  the  vital  functions ,  and  of 
course  we  take  up  the  offices  of  nutrition  of  the  same  grades  of 
beings  whose  mechanical  functions  have  been  treated  of  in  the 
first  volume.  The  animal  machine,  in  common  with  every  other 
mechanical  contrivance,  is  subject  to  wear  by  constant  use.     There- 


232  Rogei's  Bridgewater  Treatise, 

fore  it  requires  to  be  forwarded  in  its  growth,  and  upheld  in  ite 
vigour.  The  processes  by  which  all  this  is  accomjdished  comprise 
the  reparation  of  the  waste  of  the  substance  of  the  organs,  their 
maintenance,  and  their  application.  The  food  of  plants  and  the 
mode  by  which  they  are  nourished,  furnish  astonishing  proofSs  of 
design  and  wisdom.  But  we  go  on  to  the  food  of  animals;  not  as 
being  more  admirable,  but  as  being  a  subject  more  affecting  in  re- 
ference to  us.  And  here  we  shall  just  take  by  random  a  statement 
or  two  from  the  work  now  before  us.  I'hus  every  class  has  its 
carnivorous  tribes  in  the  animal  kingdom,  which  consume  livings 
prey  of  every  denomination.     For  instance  : — 

"  No  sooner  is  the  signal  given,  on  the  death  of  any  large  animal,  than 
multitudes  of  every  class  hasten  to  the  spot,  eager  to  partake  of  the  repast 
which  nature  has  prepared.  If  the  carcass  be  not  rapidly  devoured  by 
rapacious  birds,  or  carnivorous  quadrupeds,  it  never  fails  to  be  soon  at- 
tacked by  swarms  of  insects,  which  speedily  consume  its  softer  textures, 
leaving  only  the  bones.  These,  again,  are  the  favourite  repast  of  the 
Hyaena,  whose  powerful  jaws  are  peculiarly  formed  for  grinding  them  into 
powder,  and  whose  stomach  can  extract  from  them  an  abunthuit  portion 
of  nutriment.  No  less  speedy  is  the  work  of  demolition  among  the  inha- 
bitants of  the  waters,  where  innumerable  fishes,  Crustacea,  annelida,  and 
moUusca  are  on  the  watch  to  devour  all  dead  animal  matter  which  may 
come  within  their  reach.  The  consumption  of  decayed  vegetables  is  not 
quite  so  speedily  accomplished ;  yet  these  also  afford  an  ample  store  of 
nourishment  to  hosts  of  minuter  beings,  less  conspicuous,  perhaps,  but 
performing  a  no  less  important  part  in  the  economy  of  the  creation.  It 
may  be  observed  that  most  of  the  insects  which  feed  on  decomposing  ma* 
terials,  whether  animal  or  vegetable,  consume  a  much  larger  quantity  than 
they  appear  to  require  for  the  purposes  of  nutrition.  We'  may  hence  infer 
that  in  their  formation  other  ends  were  contemplated,  besides  their  own 
individual  existence.  They  seem  as  if  commissioned  to  act  as  the  scaven- 
gers of  organic  matter,  destined  to  clear  away  all  those  particles,  of  which 
the  continued  accumulation  would  have  tainted  the  atmosphere  or  the 
waters  with  infection,  and  spread  a  wide  extent  of  desolation  and  of  death, 

"  But  we  may  carry  these  views  still  farther ;  and,  following  the  ulterior 
destination  of  the  minuter  and  unheeded  fragments  of  decomposed  oi^gani- 
zations,  which  we  might  conceive  had  been  cast  away,  and  lost  to  all 
useful  purposes,  we  may  trace  them  as  they  are  swept  down  by  the  rains, 
and  deposited  in  pools  and  lakes,  amidst  waters  collected  from  the  soO  on 
every  side.  Here  we  find  them,  under  favourable  circumstances,  again 
partaking  of  animation,  and  invested  with  various  forms  of  infusory  ani- 
malcules, which  sport  in  countless  myriads  their  ephemeral  existence 
within  the  ample  regions  of  every  drop.  Yet  even  these  are  still  qualified 
to  fulfil  other  objects  in  a  more  distant  and  far  wider  sphere ;  for,  borne 
along,  in  the  course  of  time,  by  the  rivers  into  which  they  pass,  they  are 
at  length  conveyed  into  the  sea,  the  great  receptacle  of  all  the  particles 
that  are  detached  from  the  objects  on  land.  Here  also  they  float  not  use-, 
lessly  in  the  vast  abyss;  but  contribute  to  maintain  in  existence  incal- 
culable hosts  of  animal  beings,  which  people  every  portion  of  the  wide 
expanse  of  ocean,  and  which  rise  in  regular  gradation  from  the  microscopic 


lU^ei's  Brklgewaier  TrHUm.  233 


ovomid,  and  ecaroely  vinble  medusa*  tfanmgh  endleae  tribes  (^  moUuaca* 
and  of  fishes*  up  to  the  huge  Leviathan  ctf  ^e  deep. 

"  Even  those  porti<Hi8  of  organic  matter,  which,  in  the  coiuse  of  decom- 
position escape  in  the  form  of  gases,  and  are  widely  diffused  through  the 
atmosphere,  are  not  wholly  lost  for  the  uses  of  living  nature ;  for,  in  course 
of  time,  they  also,  as  we  have  seen,  re-enter  into  the  vegetable  system, 
resuming  the  solid  form,  and  reappearing  as  organic  products,  destined 
again  to  run  through  the  same  never-endiDg  chyle  of  vicissitudes  and 
transmutation 8." — ^vol.  ii.  pp.  60 — 64.  • 

The  call  of  hunger  produces  on  the  herbivorous  and  carnivorous 
animals  the  most  opposite  efiects  : — 

'*  The  calls  of  hunger  produce  on  each  of  these  classes  of  animals  the 
most  opposite  effects.  Herbivorous  animals  are  rendered  weak  and  faint 
by  the  want  of  food,  but  the  tiger  is  roused  to  the  full  energy  of  his  powers 
by  the  cravings  of  appetite ;  his  strength  and  courage  are  never  so  great  as 
when  he  is  nearly  famibhed,  and  he  rushes  to  the  attack,  reckless  of  con-* 
sequences,  and  undismayed  by  the  number  or  force  of  his  opponents.  From 
the  time  he  has  tasted  blood,  no  education  can  soften  the  native  ferocity 
of  his  disposition :  he  is  neither  to  be  reclaimed  by  kindness,  nor  subdued 
by  the  fear  of  punishment.  On  the  other  hand,  the  elephant,  subsisting 
upon  the  vegetable  productions  of  the  forest,  superior  in  size  and  even  in 
strength  to  the  tiger,  and  armed  with  as  powerful  weapons  of  defence, 
which  it  wants  not  the  courage  to  employ  when  necessary,  is  capable  of 
being  tamed  with  the  greatest  ease,  is  readily  brought  to  submit  to  the 
authority  of  man,  and  requites  with  affection  the  benefits  he  receives. 

"  On  first  contemplating  this  extensive  destruction  of  animal  life  by 
modes  the  most  cruel  and  revolting  to  all  our  feelings,  we  naturally  recoil 
with  horror  from  the  sanguinary  scene ;  and  cannot  refrain  from  asking 
how  aU  this  is  consistent  with  the  wisdom  and  benevolence  so  conspicu- 
ously manifested  in  all  other  parts  of  the  creation.  The  best  theologians 
have  been  obliged  to  confess  that  a  difficulty  does  here  exist,  and  that  the 
only  plausible  solution  which  it  admits  of,  is  to  consider  the  pain  and  suf- 
fering thus  created,  as  one  of  the  necessary  consequences  of  those  general 
laws  which  secure,  on  the  whole,  the  greatest  and  most  permanent  good. 
There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  scheme,  by  which  one  animal  is  made 
directly  conducive  to  the  subsistence  of  another,  leads  to  the  extension  of 
the  benefits  of  existence  to  an  infinitely  greater  number  of  beings  than 
could  otherwise  have  enjoyed  them." — vol.  ii.  pp.  66 — 68. 

Magnificent  is  now  the  field  that  opens  up  to  us  in  this  treatise. 
There  is  the  preparation  of  food  treated  of,  liquid  and  solid,  mas- 
tication, deglutition,  and  the  receptacles  ;  there  is  digestion ^  chyli- 
ficaiian^  lacteal  absorption y  circulation,  respiration,  secretion, 
absorption,  and  at  last  nervous  power,  which  leads  to  the  sensorial 
functions.  Each  of  these  terms  admits  of  the  most  curious  instruc- 
tion  and  scientific  explication  ;  but  we  must  confine  ourselves  to  a 
notice  of  the  functions  of  the  senses.  Indeed  the  system  of  me* 
chanical  and  vital  operations,  or  rather  fimctions  which  we  have 
merely  touched,  is  only  a  foundation  for  the  endowment  of  higher 
faculties,  which  constitute  the  great  objects  of  animal  existence.  It 
is  in  the  study  of  these  final  purposes  that  the  scheme  of  nature  in 


284  Rd99^9  Bridgmtttir  Tr§ati9^ 

the  fbrmation  of  the  aninial  irorld  displnys  tt9ctf  ia  «U  its  grandeur. 

The  Divine  Architect  has  employed  all  the  powers  of  matter  whidi 
science  has  yet  revealed  to  man  to  concur  in  the  great  work  that 
was  to  be  performed.  On  the  organized  ftibric  there  has  been  con- 
ferred a  vital  force ;  with  the  powers  of  mechanism  have  been  con- 
joined those  of  chemistry :  and  to  these  have  been  superadded  the 
still  more  subtle  and  potent  agencies  of  caloric  and  d  electricity: 
every  resource  has  been  employed^  every  refinement  practised,  every 
combination  exhausted,  that  could  ensure  the  stability  and  prolong 
the  duration  of  the  system,  amidst  the  multifarious  causes  which 
continually  menace  it  with  destruction. 

But  can  this,  continues  the  author,  which  is  mere  physical  exist- 
ence, be  the  sole  end  of  life  ?  Must  we  not  even  associate  the  power 
of  feeling  with  the  idea  of  animal  existence  ?  There  is  a  peculiar 
substance  called  the  medullary,  which  composes  the  greater  part  of 
the  texture  of  the  brain,  assipal  marrow,  and  nerves,  that  is  to  man 
totally  inexplicable,  connected  with  afiections  of  the  sentient  and  in- 
telligent  principle:  a  principle  which  we  cannot  any  otherwise  believe 
than  as  being  distinct  from  matter;  although  we  know  that  it  is  capa- 
ble of  being  affected  by  matter  operating  through  the  medium  of  uiis 
nervous  substance,  and  that  it  is  capable  of  reacting  upon  matter 
through  the  same  medium.  The  brain  is  the  essential  organ  of 
sensation ;  the  inquiry,  therefore,  arises  respecting  the  scheme  that 
has  been  devised  for  enabling  it  to  receive  impressions  from  suck 
external  objects  as  it  is  intended  that  this  sentient  being  shall  be 
capable  of  perceiving: — 

"As  these  objects  can,  in  the  first  instance,  make  impressions  only  on 
the  organs  situated  at  the  surface  of  the  body,  it  is  evidently  necessary 
that  some  medium  of  communication  should  be  provided  between  the  ex- 
ternal organ  and  the  bn&in.  Such  a  medium  is  found  in  the  nerves,  which 
are  white  cords,  oonsisting  of  bundles  of  thteads  or  filaments  of  medullary 
matter,  enveloped  in  sheaths  of  membrane*  and  extending  continuously 
.  from  the  external  organ  of  the  brain,  where  they  all  terminate.  It  is  also 
indispensably  requisite  that  those  notices  of  the  presence  of  objects 
should  be  transmitted  .instandy  to  the  brain ;  for  the  slightest  delay  would 
be  attended  with  serious  evU,  and  might  even  lead  to  fatal  consequences. . 
The  nervous  power,  of  which,  in  our  review  of  the  vital  functions,  we 
notice  some  of  the  operations,  is  the  agent  employed  by  nature  for  this 
important  office  of  a  rapid  communication  of  impressions.  The  Velocity 
with  which  the  nerves  subservient  to  sensation  transmit  the  impressions 
they  receive  at  one  extremity,  along  their  whole  course,  to  their  termina- 
tion in  the  brain,  exceeds  all  measurement,  and  can  be  compared  only  to 
tbat  of  electricity  passing  along  a  conducting  wire. 

**  It  is  evident,  therefore,  that  the  brain  requires  to  be  furnished  wi^  a 
great  number  of  these  nerves,  which  perform  the  offlce  of  conductors  of. 
the  subtle  influence  in  question ;  and  that  these  nerves  must  extend  from 
all  those  parts  of  the  body  whidi  are  to  be  rendered  sensible,  and  muat 
unite  at  their  other  extremiUes  in  that  central  organ.  It  is  of  specisdjm* 
portance  that  the  surface  of  the  body,  in  particular,  should  commumcate 


lUg^9  BrUfrnM^tr  TrmH^e.  te5 

iJl  IhB  iaiproMiOM  reccfaad  from  the  odntaet  of  external  bodieB;  and  that 
these  impTcarionB  ihcnidd  pvoduce  the  meet  dietinet  perceptione  of  toneb. 
iience  we  find  that  the  ekxa,  and  all  tiioae  parts  of  it  more  particulariy  in-* 
teiKied  to  be  the  organa  of  a  delicate  touch,  are  moQt  abundantly  supplied 
vith  nerves;  each  nerve,  however*  coQununicatii(ig  a  sensation  distin* 
guiehable  from  that  of  every  other,  so  as  to  enable  the  mind  to  discrimi-; 
nate  between  them,  and  refer  them  to  their  respective  origins  in  different 
parts  of  the  surface.  It  is  also  expedient  that  the  internal  organs  of  the 
body  should  have  some  sensibility ;  but  it  is  better  that  this  should  be  very 
limited  in  degree,  since  the  occasions  ate  few  in  which  it  would  be  posi- 
tively injurious :  hence  the  nerves  of  sensation  are  distributed  in  less  abun- 
dance to  these  organs.*' — ^vol.  ii.  pp.  366—8. 

''To  a  person  unused  to  reflection,  the  phenomena  of  sensation  and  per- 
ception may  appear  to  require  no  elaborate  investigation.  That  he  may 
behold  external  objects,  nothing  more  seems  necessary  than  directing  his 
eyes  towards  them.  He  feels  as  if  the  sight  of  those  objects  were  a  ne« 
cessary  consequence  of  the  motion  of  the  eye -balls,  and  he  dreams  not 
that  there  can  be  any  thing  marvellous  in  the  function  of  the  eye,  or  that 
any  other  organ  is  concerned  in  this  simple  act  of  vision.  If  he  wishes  to 
ascertain  the  solidity  of  an  object  within  his  reach,  he  knows  that  he  has 
but  to  stretch  forth  his  hand,  and  to  feel  in  what  degree  it  resists  tile 
pressure  he  gives  to  it.  No  exertion  even  of  this  kind  is  required  for  hear- 
ing the  voices  of  his  companions,  or  being  apprized,  by  the  increasing 
loudn^s  of  the  sound  of  falling  waters,  as  he  advances  in  a  particular  di- 
rection, that  he  is  coming  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  cataract.  Yet  how 
much  is  really  implied  in  all  these  apparent  simple  phenomena !  Science 
has  taught  us  that  these  perceptions  of  external  objects,  fieir  from  being 
direct  or  intuitive,  are  only  the  final  result  of  a  long  series  of  operations, 
produced  by  agents  of  a  most  subtle  nature,  which  act,  by  curious  and  com- 
plicated laws,  upon  a  refined  organiza.tion,  disposed  in  particular  situa- 
tions in  our  bodies,  and  adjusted  with  ndmirable  art  to  receive  their  im- 
pressions, to  modify  and  combine  them  in  a  certain  order,  and  to  convey 
them  in  a  regular  succession,  and  without  confusion,  to  the  immediate 
seat  of  sensation. 

'*  Yet  this  process,  complicated  as  it  may  appear,  constitutes  but  the 
first  stage  of  the  entire  function  of  perception :  for  before  the  mind  can 
arrive  at  a  distinct  knowledge  of  the  presence  and  peculiar  qualities  of  the 
external  object  which  gives  rise  to  the  sensation,  a  long  series  of  mental 
changes  must  intervene,  and  many  intellectual  operations  must  be  per* 
formed*  All  these  take  place  in  such  rapid  succession,  that  even  when 
we  include  the  movement  of  the  limb,  which  is  consequent  upon  the  per- 
ception, and  which  we  naturally  consider  as  part  of  the  same  continuous 
action,  the  whole  appears  to  occupy  but  a  single  instant.  Upon  a  careful 
analysis  of  the  phenomena,  however,  as  I  shall  afterwards  attempt  to  show, 
we  find  no  less  than  twelve  distinguishable  kinds  of  changes,  or  rather 
processes,  some  of  which  imply  many  changes,  must  always  intervene,  in 
regular  succession,  between  the  action  of  the  external  object  on  the  organ 
of  sense,  and  the  voluntary  movement  pf  the  limb  which  it  excites.** — 
pp.  372—3. 

On  tone  of  the  works  of  the  Creator  which  we  are  permitted  to 
behold   have  the  characters  of  intention  been  more  deeply  and 


2dG  Raget^s  Bridgewaier  Treatite. 

l^bly  engraved  than  on  the  organ  of  vision.  Of  all  the  animal 
structui'es^  this  is,  perhaps,  the  one  which  most  easily  admits  of  being 
brought  into  close  comparison  with  the  works  of  human  art;  for 
the  eye  is,  in  truth,  a  refined  optical  instrument,  the  perfection  of 
which  can  never  be  fiiUy  appreciated  until  we  have  instituted  such 
a  comparison.  We  can  only  find  room  for  a  small  part  of  the 
description  of  the  human  eye  : — 

"  An  orbicular  muscle,  the  fibres  of  which  run  in  a  circular  direction, 
immediately  underneath  the  skin,  all  round  the  eye,  is  provided  for  closing 
them.  The  upper  eye-lid  is  raised  hy  a  separate  muscle,  contained  within 
the  orbit,* immediately  above  the  upper  straight  muscle  of  the  eye-ball. 
The  eye-lashes  are  curved  in  opposite  directions,  so  as  not  to  interfere  with 
each  other  when  the  eye-lids  are  closed.  Their  utility  in  guarding  the 
eye  against  the  entrance  of  various  substances,  such  as  hairs,  dust,  or 
perspiration,  and  also  in  shading  the  eye  from  too  strong  impressions  of 
light,  is  sufficiently  apparent.  The  eye-lids,  in  closing*  meet  first  at  the 
outer  comer  of  the  eye ;  and  their  junction  proceeds  along  the  line  of  their 
edges,  towards  the  inner  angles,  till  the  contact  is  complete :  by  this 
means  the  tears  are  carried  onwards  in  that  direction,  and  accumulated  at 
the  inner  comer  of  the  eye ;  an  effect  which  is  promoted  by  the  bevelling 
of  the  margins  of  the  eye-lids,  which,  when  they  meet,  form  a  channel  for 
the  fluid  to  pass  in  that  manner.  When  they  arrive  at  the  inner  comer 
of  the  eye,  the  tears  are  conveyed  away  by  two  slender  ducts,  the  orifices 
of  which,  called  the  pwncta  lacrymalia^  are  seen  at  the  inner  comer  of 
each  eye-lid,  and  are  separated  by  a  round  projecting  body,  connected 
with  a  fold  of  the  conjunctiva,  and  termed  the  lacrymal  caruncle*  The 
two  ducts  soon  unite  to  form  one  passage,  which  opens  into  a  sac,  situated 
at  the  upper  part  of  the  sides  of  the  nose,  and  terminating  below  in  the 
cavity  of  the  nostrUs,  into  which  the  tears  are  ultimately  conducted.  When 
the  secretion  of  the  tears  is  too  abundant  to  be  carried  off  by  this  channel, 
they  overflow  upon  the  cheeks ;  bat  when  the  quantity  is  not  excessive, 
the  tendency  to  flow  over  the  eye-lid  is  checked  by  an  oily  secretion  pro- 
ceeding from  a  row  of  minute  glands,  situated  at  the  edge  of  the  eye- lids, 
and  termed  the  Meibomian  glands, 

"  The  eye-brows  are  a  further  protection  to  the  eyes  ;  the  direction  of 
the  hairs  being  such  as  to  turn  away  from  them  any  drops  of  rain  or  of 
perspiration,  which  may  chance  to  fall  from  above. 

"  Excepting  in  front,  where  the  eyes  are  covered  and  protected  by  the 
eye-lids,  these  important  organs  are  on  all  sides  effectually  guarded  from 
injury  by  being  contained  in  a  hdUow  bony  socket,  termed  the  orbit,  and 
composed  of  seven  portions  of  bone.  These  seven  elements  may  be  recog- 
nised in  the  skulls  of  all  the  mammalia,  and  perhaps  also  in  those  of  all 
other  vertebrated  animals ;  affording  a  remarkable  illustration  of  the  unity 
of  the  plans  of  nature  in  the  construction  of  the  animal  fabric." — vol.  ii. 
pp.  467—469. 

The  chapter  on  the  reproductive  functions,Mvh\cYi  forms  the  last 
part  of  this  work,  we  must  pass  over,  and  also  take  leave  entirely  of 
it.  The  extracts  we  have  given  will  satisfy  every  reader  that  the 
work  is  one  of  great  care,  labour,  and  ability.  Such  progress  of  late 
has  been  made  in  every  branch  of  physiological  science,  that  it  must 


Rogers  Bridgewater  Treatise,  237 

have  been  no  easy  task,  to  embrace,  even  within  these  two  thick 
volumes,  the  principal  facts,  and  still  less  so  to  arrange  them  in  the 
lucid  order  in  which  they  appear.  The  result  of  our  perusal  of  the 
treatise  however,  is  to  our  minds  a  sufficient  testimony  to  the  talent 
of  the  author.  Tt  was  his  design  to  treat  of  animal  and  vegetable 
physiology  in  a  manner  that  would  prove  that  those  departments  of 
nature  were  the  work  of  one  all-powerfid,  wise,  and  benevolent  Being; 
and  he  has  succeeded  in  conveying  to  our  minds  the  most  exalted 
conceptions  of  God  of  which  we  are  susceptible.  The  perusal  of 
the  work  will  be  found  by  every  candid  reader  a  highly  instructive 
and  ennobling  exercise.  Philosophy  is  here  beheld  in  her  proper  co- 
lour and  shape,  as  the  hand-maiden,  of  truth,  and  akin  to  revealed 
religion.  We  quote  the  concluding  paragraphs,  which  are  such  as 
became  a  Christian  writer  to  indite  :■— 

'*  The  great  Author  of  our  being,  who,  while  he  has  been  pleased  to 
confer  on  us  the  gift  of  reason,  has  prescribed  certain  limits  tp  its 
powers,  permits  us  to  acquire,  by  its  exercise,  a  knowledge  of  some  of 
the  wondroiis  works  of  his  creation,  to  interpret  the  characters  of  wisdom 
and  of  goodness  with  which  they  are  impressed,  and  to  join  our  voice  to 
the  general  chorus  which  proclaims  '  His  Might,  Majesty,  and  Dominion.' 
From  the  same  gracious  hand  we  also  derive  that  unquenchable  thirst 
for  knowledge,  which  this  fleeting  life  must  ever  leave  unsatisfied;  those 
endowments  of  the  moral  sense,  with  which  the  present  constitution  of 
the  world  so  ill  accords ;  and  that  innate  desire  of  perfection  which  our 
present  frail  condition  is  so  inadequate  to  fulfil.  But  it  is  not  given  to 
man  to  penetrate  into  the  counsels  or  fathom  the  designs  of  Omnipo- 
tc*nce ;  for,  in  directing  his  views  into  futurity,  the  feeble  Jight  of  his 
reason  is  scattered  and  lost  in  the  vast  abyss.  ~  Although  we  plainly  dis- 
cern intention  in  every  part  of  the  creation,  the  grand  object  of  the 
whole  is  placed  far  above  the  scope  of  our  comprehension. .  It  is  impos- 
sible, however,  to  conceive  that  this  enormous  expenditure  of  power, 
this  vast  accumulation  of  contrivances  and  of  machinery,  and  this  profu- 
sion of  existence  resulting  from  them,  can  thus,  from  age  to  age,  be 
prodigally  lavished,  without  some  ulterior  end«  Is  man,  the  favoured 
creature  of  nature's  bounty,  *  the  paragon  of  animals,'  whose  spirit  holds 
communion  with  celestial  powers,  formed  but  to  perish  with  the  wreck 
of  his .  bodily  frame  ?  Are  generations  after  generations  of  his  race 
doomed  to  follow  in  endless  succession,  rolling  darkly  down  the  stream 
of  time,  and  leaving  no  track  in  its  pathless  ocean  ?  Are  the  operations 
of  Almighty  power  to  end  with  the  present  scene  ?  May  we  not  discern, 
in  the  spiritual  constitution  of  man,  the  traces  of  higher  powers,  to  which 
those  he  now  possesses  are  but  preparatory :  some  embryo  faculties  which 
rabe  us  above  this  earthly  habitation  ?  Have  we  not  in  the  iinagination 
a  power  but  little  in  harmony  with  the  fetters  of  our  bodily  organs ;  and 
bringing  within  our  view  purer  conditions  of  beiiig,  exempt  from  the 
illusions  of  our  senses  and  the  infirmities  of  our  nature,  our  elevation  to 
which  will  eventually  prove  that  all  these  unsated  desires  of  knowledge, 
and  all  these  ardent  aspirations  after  moral  good,  were  not  implanted  in 
us  in  vain? 

*'*'  Happily  there  has  been  vouchsafed  to  u^,  from  a  higher  source,  a 
pure  and  heavenly  light  to  guide  our  faltering  steps,  and  animate  our 


dSS  Qwtd^'B  Mimtmry  ^  Okma. 


^  i|fiKit»  m  ikift  dndc  aai  fcwiry  aiank;  xeveiBag  those  ituAm 
wkicElt  mrportB  us  most  of  all  to  kncnr;  fpsfw^  to  oaonlity  faigber 
sanctions ;  elevating  our  hopes  and  our  affsetsoaa  ta  aoUer  objects  thaa 
Won^  to  earth,  and  inspiring  more  exalted  themeeof  Aaaksipuig  and 
aCpmse." — wol.  ii.  pp.  639—641. 


—  !■■* 


Am%.  yJU.^A  Sketch  of  ChiMse  History,  Ancient  and  Modern.    Bj  Oe 
Bcnr.  Cbjuais  OuTZLAFF.     London:   Smith,  Elder^  and  Co.    1834. 

Ths  satbcff  in  this  and  former  works  has  done  much  to  make  us 
acquaiDlsd  with  that  singular  people,  the  Chinese^  and  with  their 
inmiease  enflf^e.    As  a  nation  they  are  becomiug  more  and  more 

object  of  coiudderation  to  Europeans.  Hitherto  the  remoteness 
with  lespect  to  Britain  that  China  holds  on  the  face  of 
lie  iahospitable  nature  of  its  policy  towards  strangers, 
hsTO  fiMiiiuncwT  m  Berpetuating  the  erroneous  impressions  created 
by  travellers  iminmcuy  informed^  or  prone  to  exaggerate  what- 
ever they  saw.  Bat  &0  antbor's  long  aad  careful  study  of  that 
strange  country's  character,  which  his  extended  residence  in  it  en- 
abled him  to  pursue,  ^md  his  earnest  desire  to  give  a  faithful  ao- 
cottJit  of  all  that  he  haa  had  the  means  of  studying,  unite  to  render 
the  volumes  befiore  us  of  particular  value.  Indeed,  they  wiB  be 
found  to  convey  a  more  correct  and  oomprehensive  view  at  the  in- 
temal  history  of  China  than  has  ever  before  been  pubKshed.  Mr. 
GutzlafPs  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  extraordinary  language  of 
the  people  of  whom  he  treats  at  once  presents  him  with  a  key  to  in- 
formation and  knowledge  which  very  few  possess.  A  free  trade  has 
been  opened  up  for  British  merchants  to  China,  and  we  feel  confi- 
dent that  the  present  work  wiD  do  much  in  clearing  away  many 
misapprehensions  that  previously  have  been  generally  entertainea 
by  the  English  in  respect  of  that  country.  Une.  thing  is  manifest 
even  on  the  slightest  perusal  of  these  volumes,  that  they  are 
severely  accurate,  in  regard  not  merdy  of  the  matters  stated  as 
&cts,  but  in  the  reasonings  thereon  munded.  No  longer  need  it 
be  supposed  that  the  ''  celestial  empire"  possesses  a  milkary  power 
of  colossal  dimensicms  and  strength,  or  that  the  government,  whidi 
may  be  regarded  as  the  beau  ideal  of  despotism,  has  been  torn  by 
f^er  revolutions  and  civil  wars  than  the  free  states  of  t^e  west. 

The  contents  of  the  work  are  arranged  in  a  lucid  order,  which 
enables  the  reader  at  once  to  comprehend  the  author's  plan,  to  ar- 
rive at  any  matter  that  is  therein,  with  very  little  trouble,  and  to 
fed  the  force  of  the  views  takeix.  Thie  firsi  chapter  is  devoted  to 
Q»^gfra{)hical  remarksy  wh^ein  we  are  told  that  the  whole  extent  of 
Chinese  terrttcMry  is  3,010>400  square  miks,  1,296,000  of  which  eon- 
stttate  the  area  of  China  Proper.  The  whole  empire  is  thus  larger 
than  Europe,  and  the  population  is  at  all  events  fiu:  mcnre  numerous. 
The  enormous  amount  of  367  mifiions  is  given  as  the  actual  number 
of  the  inhabitants,  which  the  author  thinks  is  as  near  the  truth  as 
can  be  ascertained.     Those  parts,  indeed,  which  he  has  visited  are 


OtUflqfs  Hi9i9ty  ^  Chim.  239 

mLfxtmAj  poifvioWf  «ad  oa  numbering  the  houses  of  trndil  dictriott, 
he  has  invanably  found  th»t  the  last  imperial  coDfiia  unAer-xsteA 
the  amount  of  people.  Though  the  empiie,  howvfer,  piMfxaa  w^ 
oesaarfly  a  great  variety  of  ohiMtea,  ka  p^oidiiceions  bc^b  in  variety 
and  qaantity  appear  to  be  fiv  iaftriar  to  what  i»  found  in  Europe. 
Fruit-trees,  for  instanee^  afe  comparatively  scarce,  and  very  few 
kinds  of  vegetables  are  activated  by  iht  people.  The  hreedmg  of 
horses  and  cattle  is  likewise  neglected,  almost  every  kind  of  h»i 
labour  beiivg  pcfjbrmed  by  human  hands,  and  the  nativee  conmtmiitg! 
eomparativdy  Utde  animal  food. 

liie  second  jdiapter  treats  of  the  govsnunent  and  Im^Ham 
siqgidar  peo|^. 

"  At  the  haad  of  tke  CHi'ieiai  gepsMant  0tmh  ths  snpeior,  aa  the  son 
of  Heaven^  Heavenf s  piaigiioil  bdkrr,.  iuTeSbcd  with  idUauted  pewer  and 
vfatae#  the  tale  dbmilwhii  of  Heaven's  favoon  on  eartik    His  station  ia 
so  grettly  elanMed  above  that  of  all  common  inoftab,  that  he  demands  the 
adoiation  of  his  subjects^  not  onlike  the  Roman  eaiperors  of  old,    Besidea 
the  afpOatbo  of  Teen-tsze.  *heaveD*8  soa/  he  i^  called  Hwang-te,  'the 
aaMit  emperor/  or  Hwang-9hang,  ^snpremely  august;*  Ts-hwaug-shang^ 
'  w#|preat  supremely  angust/  and  Shing-choo« '  the  holy  lord.'  In  addressing 
it^,  tt  is  i>ot  very  uncommon  to  use  the  phrase  Wan«suy-yay,  '  the  lord 
sf  a  mynad  of  years  */  Qr«  in  speaking  of  him  as  we  say,  '  his  majesty,* 
'the  court,  &c./  the  Chinese  make  ese  of  the  phrase  Chaon-ting,  'the 
palace.'    The  mandarins,  as  well  as  the  other  natives,  not  only  prostrate 
themselves  when  in  the  presence  of  hit  imperial  majesty,  hat  also  hefbre  a 
tablet/  with  the  inacriptiony  W«o«soy^yay.    Dressed  in  a  robe  of  yellow^ 
the  colour  worn,  say  the  Chioesef  by  the  sun,  he  is  rarroanded  by  all  the 
pageantry  of  the  h^hest  dignity  ia  the  world;  whilst  the  extensive  em- 
pure  lies  pnastrate  at  bis  feel.    Bttt«  notwithstanding  bis  exalted  station, 
he  is»  nominally,  the  fGitfaer  of  Ids  people;  thoQgh»  uoder  the  appearance 
of  the  moat  lenient  patriarchal  government,  his  sway  is,  in  fact,  that  of  the 
most  absolute  despot.    In  no  conntry  in  the  world  is  tyranny  so  well 
cloaked  nnder  the  endearing  names  of  paternal  authority.     Punishments 
are  denominated  mere  chastisetaents,  even  when  the  criminal  is  cut  to 
pieces,  or  peridies  croelly  by  a  slow  and  most  ignoouaioaa  death.    The 
emperor  cdf  China,  the  common  father  of  an  immense  £amily,  does  not 
panish,  but  correct ;  he  is  actuated  by  the  most  tender  compassion,  when 
he  socks  the  blood  of  the  subject  and  tramples  upon  the  laws.    like  the 
|M>pe»  ia  Barope  (and  he  is  nothing  hot  a  political  pope,  equally  arrogant 
in  pretensions),  the  emperor  ia  admost  coaudered  infallible.     But  with 
the  view  of  cnrbing,  in  some  degree,  his  tcemeiidous  authority »  the  law 
kaa  ap^uted  censors  over  his  conduct^  whose  admonitions,  however,  he 
may  not  choose  to  receive.     Ordinary  characters*  even  when  seated  on  the 
throne,  will  always  be  under  a  certain  contrt^t :  but  a  tyrant  of  strong 
wind  and  great  capacity  may  oppress  China  with  impunity.*'— vol.  i.  pp. 
34—^36. 

The  emperor,  besides  the  utmost  political  power,  performs  the. 
office  of  high-priest ;  the  forms  of  prayers  which  he  repeats  have 
been  in  use  during  many  ages. 


240  Gutzlaff's  History  of  Chma, 

'  *•*'  If  any  calamities  afflict  the  country,  he  is  wont  to  accuse  himseif  as 
the  cause,  and  to  utter  the  prescribed  lamentations,  in  order  to  appease 
the  gods.  Thus,  he  keeps  on  good  terms  with  heaven,  earth,  hills  and- 
rivers,  and  all  the  nation.  As  much  of  his  actions  as  he  wishes  to  be 
known,  are  recorded  in  a  daily  gazette,  which  is  but  a  dry  detail  of  or- 
dinary and  uninteresting  occurrences.  His  proclamations  are  framed  ac- 
cording to  a  prescribed  form ;  for  he  only  examines,  or,  rather,  causes  to 
be  examined,  the  ancient  records,  and  writes  and  acts  conformably  ;  al- 
though he  is  careful  to  reserve  for  himself  the  ^berty  of  setting  aside 
his  declared  intentions,  whenever  it  suits  his  convenience.  One  remark, 
in  regard  to  all  Chinese  institutions,  which  applies  also  to  the  emperor, 
may  here  be  made  :— *the  theory  is,  in  many  instances,  very  excellent, 
but  the  pracftice  is  generalfy  exceedingly  defective.  A  crafty,  lying,  base 
spirit  pervades  the  court,  and  alt  the  officers  of.  government.  Persons 
have  nowhere,  indeed,  to  complain  of  a  want  of -ftir  words;  bui  the  ac- 
tions, which  form  a  contrast  to  them,  are  abominaJble**  •  A.  well-organized 
system  of  oppression  is  carried  on  from  the  highest  minister  of  state  to 
the  pettiest  mandarin ;  every  one  is  most  anxious  to  exercise  his  rapacity, 
upon  those  below  him ;  and  those,  in  their  turn,  practise  the  same  ty- 
ranny towards  their  inferiors." — vol.  i.  pp.  37 — 38. 

The  whole  of  the  Chinese  government  is  pervaded  by  a  spirit. of 
regularity  unknown  in  any  other  part  of  Asia.  The  author  caisr 
pares  it  to  a  steam-engine^  receiving  its  propelling  power  from  Pe* 
king^  and  communicating  it,  by  means  of  numerous  wheels^  to  all 
parts  of  the  empire.  No  new  regulation  interrupts  the  once-adc^ted 
course^  which  greatly  prevents  irregularity;  for^  age  after  age^  afiairs 
are  transacted  in  the  same  manner. 

'  "  As  all  principles  of  good  government  and  the  whole  code  of  virtue  are, 
according  to  Chinese  opinion^  contained  in  the  Classics,  it  is  indispensaUy 
necessary  for  every  one,  who  wishes  to  hold  any  public  station,  to  be  weU 
versed  in  these  writings.  The  government,  therefore,  from  the  time  of 
the  Tang  dynasty,  has  instituted  regular  examinations,  open  to  all  those 
who  wish  to  become  candidates  for  public  employments.  When  they  have 
studied  the  Classics  thoroughly,  and  are  able  to  give  satisfactory  answers 
to  the  questions  proposed,  they  are  admitted  to  the  lowest  degree  of  scho- 
larship—(sew-tsae) — from  whence  they  advance  to  the  rank  of  keu-jin; 
this  renders  them  eligible  for  officers  of  state.  Beyond  this,  there  are 
only  the  degrees  of  Tsin-sze  and  Han-lin.  The  emperor  appoints  literary 
examiners,  whose  sole  business  it  is  to  pronounce  impartially  their  judg- 
ment upon  the  essays  produced  at  the  examinations.  The  utmost  inte- 
grity is  required  from  those  who  are  invested  with  this  high  office ;  but 
nevertheless  a  great  deal  of  clandestine  management  is  carried  on,  both 
with  and  without  their  knowledge.  Offices  are  also  sold  to  the  best  bid- 
der, a  custom  highly  injurious  to  the  interests  of  a  country. 

'*  In  all  despotic  governments  in  Europe  we  have  a'  secret  police,  and  in 
China  there  exists  something  similar.  The  emperor  employs  his  inspect- 
ors to  pry  into  eveiy  man's  affairs,  and  to  report  according  to  what  they 
have  seen  or  heard.  Upon  the  greater  officers  of  government  some  person 
always  acts  as  spy,  in  the  capacity  of  a  clerk  or  aide-de-camp.  These 
men  communicate  freely  with  the  cabinet,  and  have  also  access  to  the 
imperial  presence." — vol.  i.  pp.  46, 47. 


Gutzlaff's  Histojy  of  China.  '  241 

TiuB  immense  engine  keeps  wonderfully  together,  which  argues 
Javourably  in  behalf  of  the  system^  as  connected  with  the  genius  of 
the  people.     But  they  are  in  a  lethargic  state,  and  easily  kept  in 
subjection  by  a  weak  government.     Their  soldiei7  are  no  doubt 
numerous,  the  nominal  army  amounting  to  more  than  a  million 
men,  besides  the  militia  and  Mongol  cavalry ;  but  they  have  little 
martial  courage,  and  for  the  most  part  are  married,  and  unwilling 
to  leave  their  homes.     They  are  also  held  in  low  estimation  com- 
pared with  the  civilians.     Their  principal  weapons  are  bows  and 
arrows,  though  they  have  clumsy  matchlocks,  guns  without  car- 
riages, and  many  other  kinds  which  are  not  generally  used.     The 
navy  again,  though  numbering  perhaps  one  thousand  sail,  is  a 
less  effM^tive  power.      Their  men-of-war  are  mere  junks,    and 
their  ignorance  of  naval  tactics  remarkable  ;   for,  although  the 
Chinese  believe  that  every  country  exists  only  as  their  compassion 
and  benevolence  suilers  it  to  do  so,  yet,  whenever  European  ships 
sail  along  the  coast,  the  terror  of  their  admirals  is  so  great  that 
the  squadrons  of  several  harbours  can  never  muster  as  much  courage 
as  to  encounter  a  single  ship. 

>    The  third  chapter  considers  the  characters,  usages,  industry,  lan- 
guage, sciences,  and  religion  of  the  Chinese.     In  most  of  these  de- 
partments they  are  much  debased.  Their  religious  indifference  is  re- 
markable.    The  Confucian  school  extends  not  their  views  beyond 
the  grave,  enjoining  the  worship  of  all  nature,  but  not  nature's  om- 
nipotent God.     This  is  the  orthodox  creed  of  the  state,  and  of 
scholars.     The  sect  of  Taou  are  gross  idolaters,  and  more  mystical 
in  their  tenets,  in  which  the  vestiges  of  adulterated  truth  may  be 
£xind.     A  third  order  of  superstition  has  been  imported  from  the 
Hindoos.     This  is  Buddhism,  the  followers  of  which  are  not  par- 
ticular as  to  the  objects  of  their  worship,  or  the  merits  of  other 
religious  creeds,  only  considering  their  own  the  best,  because  it 
teaches  the  best  method  to  pass  through  the  numerous  changes  of 
the  metempsychosis,  till  the  worshipper  arrives  at  the  consumma- 
tion of  bliss — ^annihilation.    There  are  also  Mahomedans  in  China, 
and  it  is  said  that  there  are  600,000  Roman  Catholic  Christians 
still  in  the  country ;  but  these  once  were  much  more  numerous.  The 
tluHight  that  so  many  miUions  of  the  human  race  are  thus  slaves 
to  the  most  debasing  paganism,  and  under  the  iron  rule  of  anti- 
quated custom,  is  cheerless  in  the  extreme.     But  commerce,  '^  which 
is  the  forerunner,  if  not  the  cause«  of  civilization,''  we  hope  and 
believe  is  about  to  carry  in  its  train  a  light  that  will  shed  the  most 
benign  influences  over  the  benighted  regions  of  China.  Infidels,  or 
persons  totally  destitute  of  any  portion  of  a  truly  Christian  spirit, 
are  to  be  found  in  Britain,  who,  ignorant  of  the  great  benefits 
which  they  have  reaped  from  Christianity  at  home,  would  endea- 
vour to  make  One  weep  at  the  thought  of  interfering  with  the  super- 
stition of  heathens,  though  that  interference  should  merely  consist 
in  appeals  to  the  intellect  and  the  heart.    But,  however  picturesque 
VOL.  III.  (1834.)  NO.  II.  s 


24^  GMizlajgTM  Higtmy  of  China. 

heathenism  may  be  rendered  in  description  by  unfiiir  representatioiis, 
it  will  ever  be  found,  when  the  whole  truth  is  told,  that  gross  super- 
stition dwells  only  in  the  dark  places  of  the  earth,  and  that  such 
places  are  full  of  immoral  practices  and  horrid  cruelties.  In  China 
a  diisregard  to  truth  in  the  ordinary  intercourse  of  life  is  a  descrip- 
tive feature  of  the  people,  and  every  one  knows  that  infiEuiticide  is 
carried  oii  to  an  enormous  extent.  What  a  revolution  would  the 
introduction  of  the  knowledge  of  Christianity,  and  obedience  to  its 
doctrines,  accomplish  amongst  these  hundreds  of  millions  of  our 
species  1 

A  great  part  of  the  remainder  of  these  volumes  is  occupied  with 
the  history,  ancient  and  modem,  of  the  dynasties  which  successively 
sat  upon  the  Chinese  throne,  arranged  by  the  author  not  as  the 
native  historians  have  done,  but  blended  with  the  annals  of  the 
western  world,  as  the  most  convenient  order  for  general  use.  Four 
eras  take  up  by  this  plan  the  entire  existence  of  the  nation,  which  is 
confessedly  very  ancient.  Even  as  a  civilized  people  their  annals  go 
back  to  tne  earliest  times, — a  civilization,  however,  which  by  the 
genius  of  their  institutions  has  been  quite  stationary  from  time  im- 
memorial. The  author  thinks  that  they  had,  for  instance,  a  notion 
of  astronomy  as  early  as  the  Chaldeans  and  Egyptians.  But  the 
accounts  of  their  antediluvian  existence,  as  given  by  their  historians, 
are  as  extravagant  and  unfounded  as  the  mythological  stories  of  the 
Hindoos  and  Greeks.  It  does  not  appear  indeed  that  much  that  is 
authentic  can  be  narrated  of  the  empire  previous  to  the  time  of 
Confucius,  550  B.  C. 

The  author  calls  the  £rst  of  the  four  eras,  into  which  he  divides 
the  history  of  China,  the  Mytkoloeiacdi^^xirsAoa  uncertain.  The 
second  era  embraoes  the  ancient  history  of  the  empire,  B.  C.  2207 
to  A.  D.  263.  The  third  era  takes  in  the  middle  ages  of  hislorlr, 
from  A«  D.  264  to  1367.  And  the  last,  modem  history,  from  A.  I^. 
1368  to  1833. 

.  The  present  emperor  succeeded  to  the  throne  in  1820;  and  the 
rules  instituted  for  mourning,  in  consequence  of  the  death  of  his 
predecessor,  not  only  show  the  formal  character  of  the  Chinese,  but 
the  dissimulation,  that  is  not  confined  to  any  one  region  of  the 
earth,  or  family  of  mankind  : — 

"  When  one  of  the  immaculate  sages  of  the  family  is  numbered  with 
those  who  are  departed,  the  succeeding  emperor  shall  be  the  chief  mourner ; 
he  shall  take  the  fringes  from  his  cap»  and  he  shall  lament  and  stamp  his 
feet  for  sorrow.  Tlie  empress,  and  all  the  ladies  of  inferior  rank  in  the 
palace  or  harem,  shall  pluck  away  their  ear-rings,  and  remove  every  orna- 
ment of  their  head-dress.  A  table  shall  be  spread  out  before  the  coffin, 
and  there  the  kings,  princes,  and  nobles,  shall  pour  out  libations.  The 
cinperor  who  succeeds  shall  put  on  mourning,  and  dishevel  his  plaited 
hair,  taking  up  his  abode  in  a  hovel  by  the  side,  of  the  corpse.  The  em- 
press»  concubines,  and  all  the  ladies  of  the  harem,  shall  cut  off  their  hair. 
The  emperor  shall  mourn  *  for  three  years,  and  during  the  first  hundred 
days  shall  cause  all  imperial  edicts  to  be  written  with  blue  ink  \  all  gorem- 


GuUlqf'3  History  of  China.  243 

mcnt  p&pers,  during  twenty-seven  days,  must  be  stamped  with  blue  ink. 
Dnring  a  hundred  days  the  Chinese  shall  desist  from  shaving  the  head, 
and  the  mandarins  shall  not  give  their  sons  and  daughters  in  marriage. 
•  All  my  people  should  be  dutiful  to  their  parents/  said  Taou-kwang, 
'  respectful  to  superiors,  ashamed  of  crime,  and  cherish  a  dread  of  punish- 
ment, to  aid  me  in  imitating  his  last  majesty,  who  shorwed  a  love  of  the 
lives  of  others,  such  as  Heaven  displays.  Now,  in  consequence  of  all  the 
kings,  TaKar  nobles^  great  statesmen,  civil  and  military  officers,  having 
said  with  one  voice.  Heaven's  throne  mast  not  be  long  nnoocupiedi  it  is 
incumbent,  that  by  the  consent  of  the  imperial  mimes,  and  the  gods  of  the 
land,  a  sovereign  do  early  assume  his  sway.  In  consequence  of  their 
again  remonstrating  vtrith  me,  I  forced  myself  to  yield  to  the  general  Voice, 
and  interrupting  my  keen  sorrows,  on  the  third  day  of  the  eighth  moon ; 
having  announced  the  circumstance  to  Heaven  and  earth,  and  to  the  manes 
of  my  hnperial  ancestors;  I  sat  down  on  the  imperial  throne.  Let  the 
next  year  be  the  first  of  Taou-kwang." — ^vol.  ii.  pp.  78 — 80. 

The  author  says,  that  monarchs  who  intend  to  send  an  ambas- 
sador U>  the  imperial  court  of  China  ought  to  inform  themselves 
tipon  the  ceremonial  which  these  personages  have  to  pass  and  to 
perform.  The  emperor  does  not  acknowledge  any  power  upon 
terms  of  equality.  It  is  put  down  as  a  law^  that  an  embassy  by 
land  shall  never  consist  of  more  than  one  hundred  personages, 
ti^enty  of  whom  only  are  allowed  to  repair  to  the  court,  whilst  the 
remainder  have  to  wait  on  the  frontiers.  An  embassy  sent  by  >fay 
of  the  sea  ought  only  to  consist  of  three  iressels,  with  a  hundbred 
men  in  each  of  them,  &c.  Would  it  not  be  advisable  to  convince 
his  Imperial  Majesty  that  there  are  powers  possessed  of  a  large  ex- 
tent of  territorv  and  numerous  subjects,  who  can  demand  a  proper 
treatment  for  their  representatives  ? 

On  the  subject  of  the  prc^agatioh  of  the  GoBpel  in  China  we 
have  die  following  information,  which  to  us  is  new :— - 

**  The  reviving  influence  of  the  Gospel  animated  the  hearts  of  the  apostles 
and  their  followers  to  penetrate  to  the  most  distaftt  parts  of  the  world. 
Their  love  for  their  fellow-men  was  unbounded,  rind  they  bore  all  hardships 
joyfiillf .  8t.  Thdfnas,  who  is  denominated  '  the  apostle  of  the  Hindoos 
andCfainesei^  in  the  epitome  of  the  Byrian  canofis,  trttversed  a  great  part 
of  western  Asia,  visited  India,  and  finally  reached  Kambalu,  which, 
aeeoiding  to  the  latest  researches,  is  th^  Khanbalik  of  the  l^rtars,  and 
tte  Peking  of  the  Chinese.  Having  built  a  church  here,  he  returned  to 
Meliapore,  on  the  coast  of  Koromandel,  where  being  very  saccessfiil  in 
the  oonverdon  of  the  infidels,  he  was  stoned  and  pierced  with  a  lance,  by 
the  eaviooi  Brahmins.  Though  the  foregoing  is  taken  ft'om  Syrian  tradi- 
tion only,  the  fact  is  corroborated  by  the  concurrent  teslamonies  of  the 
Chaldean  ritual,  which  concludes  with  the  following  sentenice :  '  By  the 
blessed  Thomas,  the  kingdom  of  heaven  was  extended  and  opened  to  the 
Qiinese/  The  Byrian  metropolitan  of  the  Malabar  coast  always  subscribed 
himself  the  metropolitan  of  All  Hindoostan  and  China.  Kwan-yuii- 
cfaang,  a  celebrated  Chinese  writer,  is  said  to  mention  the  birth  of  the 
^vkmr  in  the  Grotto,  exposed  to  all  the  winds ;  his  death ;  his  resurrec- 
ti<m ;  his  ascension,  and  the  impression  of  his  holy  feet.    Though  the 

s  2 


244  Gutzlaff  's  History  of  China. 

author  has  not  seen  his  work,  he  is  acquainted  with  the  Shin-seen-tang' 

keen,  a  history  of  all   religions   in  Chinese — where  Christianity  is  de^ 

'  tailed  in  such  a  way  as  to  leave  no  douht  that  it  was  known  in  China 

■  long  before  the  entrance  of  the  Jesuits,  but  only  in  a  circumscribed  sphere, 

and  very  imperfectly." — vol.  ii.  pp.  101, 102. 

The  Nestorian  creed  is  said  to  have  been  propagated  in  China  at 
.  an  early  date  of  the  Christian  era,  and  it  is  well  known  that  the 
Roman  Catholics  have  for  a  long  time  been  at  great  pains  to  spread, 
by  means  of  their  missionaries,  their  views  of  religion,  though  of 
late,  as  it  seems,  with  little  success.  When  the  author  was  at 
'Fuh-choo,  in  1832,  he  received  several  applications  from  native 
'Christians,  who,  according  to  the  statement  of  the  mandarin  of  the 
district,  are  very  numerous.  They  are  generally  poor  and  ignorant 
people,  who,  if  they  can  afford  it,  wear  a  cross  round  their  neck. 
The  missionaries  have  supplied  them  with  crucifixes  and  pictures. 
They  possess  also  a  calendar,  which  points  out  to  them  the  festivals 
and  saints'-days  of  the  Romish  Church ;  but  beyond  this  their 
knowledge  does  not  extend.  The  author  says,  it  was  radier  sur- 
prising to  see  that  they  opposed  the  promulgation  of  the  pure  Gos- 
pel amongst  the  heathens,  whom  they  decried  as  an  ignorant,  for- 
saken race,  unworthy  of  so  great  a  gift. 

Protestantism  has  been  introduced  into  China,  and  had  a  small 
beginning,  whicb,  however,  promises  extensive  sway  ere  long  :— r 

"  When  the  churches  in  England,  during  the  latter  part  of  the  last  cen- 
tury, aroused  from  that  indiff^erence  with  which  they  had  hitherto  seen 
millions  of  their  fellow-creatures  dying  in  idolatry,  they  also  turned  their 
attention  towards  China.  The  choice  of  the  directors  of  the  London  Mis- 
sionary society  fell  upon  the  Rev,  (now  Dr.)  Morrison,  who  had  studied 
in  Hoxton  Academy,  with  a  view  to  the  ministry  at  home ;  but  being 
fully  convinced  of  the  deplorable  state  of  the  heathen  world,  he  was  willing 
to  go  to  any  quarter  of  the  globe  where  the  Gospel  was  not  yet  known. 
WiUi  this  view  he  entered  the  missionary  seminary  at  Gosport.  After 
having  obtained  a  Latin-Chinese  Dictionary,  and  '  the  Harmony  of  the 
Four  Gospels' in  Chinese,  from  the  British  Museum,  he  sailed,  in  1807, 
by  way  of.  America,  for  Canton,  accompanied  by  the  pftiyers  of  thoufiaads. 
He  landed  in  the  September  of  the  same  year  at  Macao,  and  created  a 
good  deal  of  suspicion  among  the  Romish  clergy.  In  Canton,  he  lived 
during  that  season  in  a  godown,  where  he  studied,  ate,  and  slept.  He  let 
bis  nails  grow,  that  they  might  be  like  those  of  the  Chinese,  wore  a  tail, 
and  became  an  adept  in  the  use  of  chopsticks.  In  the  factory  he  walked 
about  in  a  Chinese  frock,  and  wore  Chinese  shoes.  But,  seeing  that  bia 
wish  to  conform  to  the  prejudices  of  the  natives  had  not  the  desired  effect 
of  conciliating  their  affection,  he  abandoned  their  costume  and  dresoed 
like  a  European.  Very  soon  afterwards  he  was  introduced  to  Sir  George 
Staunton,  a  member  of  the  British  factory,  and  became  by  his  means  ac* 
quainted  with  Mr.  Roberts,  the  chief.  As  it  was  Mr.  Morrison's  principal 
object  to  translate  the  Scriptures  into  Chinese,  Mr.  Roberts,  on  his  death- 
bed,  remarked :  *  I  see  not  why  your  translating  the  sacred  Scriptures 
into  the  Chinese  language  might  not  be  avowed,  if  occasion  ealled  for  it. 
We  (the  members  of  the  factor}')  could  with  reason  answer  the  Chinese 


Gutzhfs  History  of  China.  245 

thus  :-^'  This  volume  we  deem  the  best  of  books.'  It  was  in  a  somewhat 
similar  way  that  the  British  ambassador  at  the  court  of  Persia  introduced 
a  copy  of  tie  New  Testament  to  the  notice  of  the  Persian  monarch.  The 
arrival  of  some  troops  from  Bengal  in  1 808,  in  order  to  garrison  Macao, 
put  him  under  the  necessity  of  leaving  Canton.  He  had  during  all  this 
time  studied  Chinese,  both  the  Canton  and  mandarin  dialects,  and  even  of- 
fered up  his  private  prayers  to  the  Almighty  in  that  language,  Shortly  af- 
terwards he  was  nominated  Chinese  translator  to  the  British  factory, 
which  situation  greatly  facilitated  the  accotaplishment  of  his  views.  He 
now  began  to  have  on  Sunday  a  religious  meeting  at  his  house  with  some 
few  Chinese,  highly  delighted  at  the  feeble  beginnings  in  so  great  a  work. 
Having  ascertained  that  a  copy  of  the  Acts  of  the  Apostles,  which  he  had 
brought  out  with  him,  was  perfectly  intelligible,  he  printed  it,  and  com- 
pleted also  a  Chinese  Grammar,  with  the  Gospel  of  St.  Luke,  in  1810-11. 
Thus  he  went  on  gradually,  and  printed  the  New  Testament  in  parts,  till 
the  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society  voted  three  hundred  pounds  towards 
the  translating,  printing,  and  circulating  of  the  sacred  Scriptures  in 
China.  The  Roman  Catholic  missionaries  had  spent  more  than  two  cen- 
turies in  China,  and  amongst  them  there  were  many  who  understood  the 
Chinese  language  thoroughly  and  wrote  elegantly.  They  have  published 
the  lives  of  saints,  their  scholastic  divinity,  and  other  works,  but  never  ven- 
tured upon  translating  the  oracles  of  God,  and  making  them  intelligible  to 
so  many  millions.  If  they  were  preachers  of  the  Gospel,  and  apostolical 
missionaries,  why  did  they  not  make  known  the  Gospel  and  the  apostoli- 
cal doctrines  ?  If  they  were  champions  of  the  saints  and  the  Pope,  why 
did  they  not  declare  themselves  such  in  China,  and  prevent  the  gross  error 
of  miscalling  popery  the  Gospel  ?  When  they  were  once  asked  by  the 
Pope  himself  to  translate  one  Gospel,  as  a  mere  specimen  of  Chinese  lite- 
rature, they  pleaded  the  absolute  impossibility  of  such  an  undertaking, 
and  never^eless  could  find  words  and  phrases  to  translate  the  abstruse 
Thoinas  Aquinas  !  Whatever  may  be  the  opinions  of  the  enemies  of  the 
word  of  God  upon  this  subject.  Dr.  Morrison  considered  it  his  duty  to  fol- 
low the  Saviour's  command,  by  making  known  the  Gospel  without  human 
alloy.  The  author  had  found  no  work  of  any  importance  which  can  be 
translated  with  so  great  ease  into  a  foreign  idiom  as  the  Holy  Bible — a 
book  given  for  all  nations  of  the  earth,  in  the  most  simple  form  possible. 
Dr.  Morrison  endeavoured  to  imitate  in  the  translation  the  most  approved 
works  of  the  Chinese,  but  could  not  introduce  the  style  of  the  classics, 
which  is  too  concise,  and,  without  commentaries,  unintelligible  to  the 
natives  themselves.  During  the  years  1813  and  1814,  he  undertook  the 
inatruotion  of  four  orphan  boys,  both  in  their  native  language  and  the 
principles  of  Christianity.  As  the  Chinese  prize  education,  and  have 
made  literary  acquirements  the  road  to  office,  the  establishment  of  schools 
has  since  proved  very  beneficial  to  the  promotion  of  Christianity. 

"  At  Canton,  Dr.  Morrison,  the  worthy  senior  of  the  mission,  who  de- 
voted his  time  and  property  to  the  service  of  his  God,  and  compiled  a 
large  Anglo-Chinese  dictionary,  has  carried  on  the  work  gradually.  An 
American  mission  has  likewise  been  established  in  this  provincial  city. 
The  senior  missionary  publishes  the  Chinese  Repository,  a  monthly  perio- 
dical, which  is  very  valuable,  and  he  teaches  several  Chinese  boys,  who 
nave  made  considerable  progress  in  the  knowledge  of  Christianity.  A 
Chinese  monthly  ])eriodical  has  also  been  lately  issued.     There  are  ten 


246  Gutglafs  Hittory  of  Ckina^ 

native  converts, — truly  a  small  number, — hut,  tkeir  miuister  Afi,a  fervent 
Christian,  spreads  the  Gospel  and  Christian  books,  in  his  native  district, 
with  very  great  success.  Lately,  the  work  has  greatly  prospered,  and 
the  co-operation  of  Christians  in  England,  as  well  as  in  America  is  consi- 
derable."— ^vol.  ii.  pp.  163 — 177. 

A  nation  so  completely  isolated  by  natural  boondaridS  from  all 
intercourse  with  foreigners  is  prone  to  view  other  nationB  in  a  fiilse 
light.  The  Chinese  conceive  that  their  country  is  situated  at  fhe 
centre  of  the  earth,  surrounded  by  the  four  seas^  and  therefore  the 
only  one  worthy  of  notice.  All  other  pa^ts  of  the  earth  are  mere 
islands  in  their  view^  scattered  round  the  celestial  empire^  inhabited 
by  barbarous  tribes  and  ruled  by  petty  chiefs.  The  emperor's  pre- 
sumption of  thinking  himself  entitled  to  the  name  of  Heaven's  son 
engenders  in  the  breast  of  ev^  true  Chinese  the  opinion  that  they 
themselves  are  the  lords  of  the  globe.  A  great  portion  of  the  se- 
cond volume  is  occupied  by  a  history  of  the  intercourse  which,  how- 
ever>  has  taken  place  in  former  afid  modem  times  between  foreigners 
and  the  celestial  empire.  Of  the  accounts  of  the  emporiums  be- 
longing to  Europeans  we  select  a  part  of  what  is  told  of  Canton  :•<- 

"  Canton,  Kwang-chow-foo,  called  also  by  the  natives  Sang-ching,  is 
situated  in  23  deg.  7  min.  10  sec.  N.  lat.  and  in  long.  113  deg.  14  min. 
30  sec.  east  of  Greenwich,  on  the  Choo-keang, — ^Pearl  viver.  It  is  sur- 
rounded by  canals,  branches  of  rivers,  rice-fields,  and  towering,  barren 
hills.  It  is  a  very  ancient  city,  and  is  said  to  have  existed  at  the  time  of 
Yaou,  who  commanded  one  of  his  ministers  to  repair  to  Nan-keaou,  which 
is  also  called  Ming-too, — ^the  splendid  capital.  The  territory,  which  now 
bears  the  name  of  Kwang-tung  (Canton)  province,  was  then  called  Yu^, 
and  constituted  the  principality  of  Yany.  During  the  reign  of  Chang  dy- 
nasty, the  princes  sent  tribute  to  the  son  of  heaven.  About  630,  b.  c, 
the  prince  of  Tsoo  subjecied  the  suthem  barbarians  to  his  sway,  to  prevent 
their  being  troublesome.  The  provincial  city  bore  then  th^  name  of  Nan- 
woo -ching  ;  it  is  surrounded  by  a  bamboo  stockade,  and  of  narrow  dimen- 
sions .  Possibly,  however,  the  situation  of  the  place  has  changed  accord- 
ing to  circumstances.  We  are  told  that  five  genii  riding  upon  rams,  met 
at  the  city,  each  ram  bearing  a  stalk  of  grain  in  his  mouth,  which  had  six 
ears.  The  genii,  after  having  addressed  the  people  with  the  couplet, 
which  said,  **  May  famine  and  dearth  never  visit  your  market,"  dis- 
appeared, and  the  rams  were  changed  into  stone.  A  temple  still  exists, 
commemorative  of  this  strange  event. 

••  That  portion  of  the  city,  which  is  surrounded  by  a  wall,  nearly  in  the 
form  of  a  square,  is  divided  into  two  parts,  by  a  wall  running  from  east  to 
west.  The  northern,  which  is  much  the  largest  part,  is  called  the  old  city; 
the  southern  is  called  the  new  city.  The  whole  circumference  can  be 
circumambulated  at  a  quick  pace  within  two  hours.  These  walls  are 
made  of  stone  and  brick,  with  a  line  of  battlements  and  embrasures  at  the 
distance  of  a  few  feet:  sixteen  gates  lend  to  the  city.  The  suburbs  are 
fully  as  large  as  the  city  itself;  on  the  west,  they  spread  out  nearly  in  the 
form  of  an  isosceles  right-angled  triangle,  opening  to  the  north-west, 
having  the  river  on  the  south,  and  the  western  wall  of  the  city  for  its  two  . 
equal  sides.     On  the  south  they  occupy  the  whole  space  between  the  wall 


ChOMkff'i  HiBtory.  af  C&tna.  24  7 

and  tbe  river.  Th<l  Biuopean  factoriefl  are  outside  of  the  ettf  walls,  on 
ibe  banks  of  the  rirer  in  the  suburbs.  Tbey  are  thirteien  in  number,  and 
run  nearly  east  and  west.  They  are,  without  doubt,  the  roost  elegant 
buildhig^  in  the  empire*  though,  a  European  might  find  fault  with  tbem« 
and  view  the  factcry  oomfotU  with  contempt.  The  company  has  a  small 
garden  in  front  of  their  hong;  several  factories  have  terraces  upon  the 
too£b;  the  most  stately  rooms  are  the  apartments  of  the  company.  There 
are  about  600  streets  in  Canton,  most  of  them  narrow  and  crooked,  and 
none  at  all  to  be  compared  with  the  Old  and  New  China  streets,  near  the 
factories;  few  of  the  houses  are  splendid,  the  laws  of  the  celestial  empire 
forbidding  luxury  in  this  branch.  The  dwellings  of  the  poor  are  exceed- 
ingly crowded;  but  even  in  the  houses  of  the  wealthy,  if  we  except  the 
abodes  of  a  few  Hong  merchants,  there  is  no  real  comfort.  The  gover- 
nor's palace,  a  very  spacious  building,  stands  near  the  Yew-Ian  gate :  he 
has  very  great  power,  and  rules  over  two  provinces,  Kwang-ttmg  and 
Kwang-se,  though  his  proper  seat  is  Shaou-king-foo,  about  100  miles 
west  of  this  city:  he  generally  resides  in  Canton." — ^vol  ii.  pp.  214 — 222, 

In  the  course  of  his  work  the  author  has  frequent  occasion  of 
relating  that  many  aggressions  have  arisen  in  China  on:  the  side  of 
European  guests ;  however^  the  provoking  system  which  the  natives 
foBow  in  their  treatment  of  strangers  has  often  been  the  cause  of 
bloodshed  and  reprisals  : — 

'*  In  Europe,  where  we  are  taught  to  consider  the  mandarins  as  patri- 
archs, ruling  over  a  nation  of  beloved  children,  we  can  only  ascribe 
every  lawless  act  to  the  wantonness  of  our  countrymen.  But  every  one^ 
who  is  in  the  least  conversant  with  the  Chinese  government,  will  have 
found,  that  the  mandarins  always  oppress  foreigners,  and  extort  money 
from  them,  wherever  this  can  be  done  with  impunity.  The  Chinese 
merchants  have  a  leaning  towards  impositions,  the  constitution  of  the 
empire  rests  upon  the  basis  of  excluding  all  foreigpi  intercourse,  and  to 
restrict  mercantile  connexions  with  foreigners  as  much  as  possible,  by 
vexatious  and  petty  annoyances.  Europeans,  who  meet  with  such  an 
anti-national  reception,  and  suffer  in  their  speculations  by  the  heavy  im- 
positions^  will  frequently  have  recourse  to  violence,  in  order  to  get  their 
grievances  redressed.  But  if  they  had  stopped  here,  we  should  find  no 
reason  to  blame  them  for  having  used  the  only  means  left  to  them  in  order 
to  succeed  in  their  trade.  But,  oi^ce  convinced  of  the  weakness  of  the 
Chinese  government,  tliey  become  aggpressors  in  their  turn,  and  embroil 
themselves  with  a  nation  which  has  nothing  to  oppose  to  downright 
violence  but  low  cunning.  After  this  general  remark,  wc  shall  relate 
the  events  with  impartiality,  and  leave  it  to  the  reader  to  draw  his  own 
conclusions."— vol.  ii.  pp.  234,  236. 

The  author  makes  one  exception,  which  our  readers  have  reason, 
like  ourselyes^  to  be  gratefiil  for,  inasmuch  as  it  redounds  to  th(^ 
imnKittal  honour  of  our  country.  We  do  hope  that  in  regard  of 
China  it  is  fiilly  borne  out : — 

'*  Wherever  British  influence  has  prevailed,  mankind  has  been  im- 
proved and  enlightened,  and  lofty  principles,  with  all  the  arts  and  sciences 
of  civilization,  have  been  widely  propagated.  No  nation  on  earth  has 
done  so  much  for  the  benefit  of  mankind,  or  upon  so  extensive  a  scale,  as 


349  GfAxlajft  HUtwy  of,  CkmM. 

the  inhabitants  of  the  fiavoured  Bfitish  isles.  Humanity  and  the  gloriouv 
cause  of  Christianity  have  f^^ained  more  since  the  English  have  spread 
themselves  over  the  globe,  than  during  all  the  ages  since  the  reign  of 
Constantine.  We  by  no  means  wish  to  depreciate  the  merits  of  other 
Protestant  nations,  nor  derogate  from  the  praise  due  only  to  the  Almighty , 
who  bestowed  upon  Great  Britain  this  great  trust  of  enlightening  tlw 
nations ;  but  had  the  Portuguese  and  Spaniards  remained  in  possession 
of  their  conquests  in  Asia,  to  the  exclusion  of  every  other  nation,  what 
would  be  the  state  of  the  eastern  world  at  the  present  period  ?" — roh  ii. 
p.  291. 

British  moderation  seems  indeed  to  have  sometimes  heen  carried 
to  an  imprudent  extent  towards  the  vain  and  feeble  Chinese.  In 
1818,  a  squadron  was  sent  from  England  to  take  possession  of 
M acao^  so  long  as  the  war  with  France  should  last,  but  the  China 
authorities  would  not  permit  the  armament  to  establish  themselves 
on  this  peninsula;  that  is  to  say,  the  boastiul  language  of  the 
native  powers  seems  to  have  made  the  British  admiral  withdraw. 

**  We  do  not  dwell  upon  the  abstract  right  the  English  had  of  occupy- 
ing Macao,  until  the  danger  of  its  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  French 
should  be  passed;  but  they  surely  had  a  right  to  cause  their  flag  and 
admiral  to  be  respected  by  a  wretched  government,  whose  whole  strength 
consists  in  the  art  of  boasting.  In  their  official  communication,  by  means 
of  the  Hong  merchants,  they  say :    *  Knowing,  as  you  ought  to  know, 
that  the  Portuguese  inhabit  a  territory  belonging  to  the  celestial  empire, 
how  could  you  suppose  that  the  French  would  ever  venture  to  molest 
them  ?  (Napoleon  would  have  taught  them  that  this  was  a  vain  presump- 
tion.)   If  they  dared,  our  warlike  tribes  would  attack,  defeat,  and  chase 
them  from  the  face  of  the  country.    Conscious  of  this  truth,  why  did  you 
bring  your  soldiers  here  ?     Repent,  and  withdraw  immediately ;  the  per- 
mission to  trade  shall  then  be  restored ;  but  should  you  persist  in  remain- 
ing, the  hatches  of  your  ships  shall  not  be  unlocked.'     The  latter  part  of 
the  threat  would  have  been  immediately  reversed,  by  the  mere  appearance 
of  a  British  ship  of  war  in  the  Canton  river,  or  at  Canton  itself.    Instead 
of  this,  the  way  of  negotiation  was  adopted.     The  Chinese  accordingly 
refused  to  listen  to  any  argument  until  the  troops  were  withdrawn  from 
Macao.     Thereupon,  Admiral  Drury  came  up  to  Canton,  and  insisted 
upon  an  interview  with  the  viceroy.     The  viceroy  refused  him  the  inter- 
view, though  he  sent  an  intimation  that  he  would  be  up,  within  half  an 
hour,  in  the  city.     The  viceroy  declined  this  honour,  and  the  admiral 
returned  to  his  ship.     He  afterwards  ordered  the  boats  of  his  own  and  of 
the  company's  ships  to  be  manned  and  armed,  in  order  to  break  through 
the  line  of  Chinese  vessels  which  were  moored  across  the  river.     Had  he 
persevered  in  this  endeavour,  the  trade  would  both  have  been  opened, 
and  the  matter  adjusted  at  Macao.     Anxious  to  hold  a  conversation  with 
the  Chinese  admiral,  Drury  pulled  a^head,  and  was  fired  upon,  whereby 
one  sailor  was  wounded.     He  then  made  the  signal  for  the  attack ;  but 
this  was  not  observed.     He  did  not  repeat  it  a  second  time,  but  retreated 
with  tlie  boats.     If  it  had  not  been  considered  right  to  force  an  amicable 
understanding,  this  expedition  ought  not  to  have  been  undertaken;  but, 
once  entered  upon,  it  ought  to  have  been  carried  through. 


Chadag  *9  Hut&ry  of  Chma.  249 

**  Thoufh  tiK  British  c\a%i  of  the  fodtory  highly  approred  of  the  mo- 
deration of  the  admiral,  the  firitish  national  honour  was  stained  for  ever; 
and  a  pyramid,  recording  the  victory  of  Chinese  cowardice  over  British 
imprudence,  is  erected  near  the  spot  from  whence  the  admiral  retreated. 
He  withdrew  with  his  garrison  from  Macao ;  the  English  nation  was 
viewed  with  greater  contempt;  it  .was  written  down  in  the  Chinese 
annals,  '  We  have  beaten  the  English !'  The  undaunted  veterans  of  the 
Nile  and  Trafalgar  had  retreated." — vol.  ii.  pp.  347 — 9* 

The  consequences  of  these  cautionary  proceedings  were  greater 
obstacles  in  tne  way  of  trading  and  additional  insolence.  The  re- 
ception in  China  of  our  ambassador^  Lord  Amherst^  in  1816^  was  a 
striking  example.  > 

'*The  embassy  arrived  towards  the  end  of  the  year  at  Canton,  and  had 
several  interviews  with  the  authorities  there.  Before  they  left  Canton 
an  edict  was  issued  by  the  emperor  Kea-king,  addressed  to  all  nations, 
wherein  he  exculpated  himself,  and  confirmed  the  degradation  of  the  com- 
missioners. This  was  the  result  of  fear,  and  the  legates,  who  had  come 
down  with  them  from  Peking,  moreover,  requested  Lord  Amherst  to 
represent  matters  to  his  sovereign  in  a  way  calculated  to  preserve  peace 
and  good  will  between  the  two  countries.  The  embassy  received  the 
letter  addressed  to  the  Prince  Regent,  couched  in  very  pompous  words, 
and  adding,  that  there  would  be  no  occasion  to  send  in  future  a  tribute* 
bearer  from  such  a  distance.  In  an  edict,  addressed  to  the  viceroy  at 
Canton  by  the  emperor,  it  is  said,  in  speaking  of  the  ambassador  and 
commissioners:  'You  will  invite  them  to  dinner,  in  compliance  with 
etiquette,  and  will  make  the  following  speech  to  them :— *  Your  good 
fortune  has  been  small ;  you  arrived  at  the  gates  of  the  imperial  house, 
and  were  uiuible  to  lift  your  eyes  to  the  face  of  Heaven.  The  great  em- 
peror reflected,  that  your  king  sighed  after  happiness,  and  acted  with 
sincerity.  We  therefore  accepted  some  presents,  and  gifted  your  king 
with  various  precious  articles.  You  must  give  thanks  to  the  emperor 
for  his  benefits,  and  return  with  speed  to  your  kingdom,  that  your  king 
may  feel  a  respectful  gratitude  for  these  acts  of  kindness.  Take  care  to 
embark  the  rest  of  the  presents.  Answer  in  one  word;  a  decrees  has 
passed ;  we  therefore  dare  not  present  troublesome  petitions,  and  with 
decision  you  will  rid  yourself  of  them.  Respect  this.' "  — vol.  ii.pp.  365, 
366. 

We  have  not  room  to  follow  up  the  later  history  of  British  trad- 
ing witJi  the  celestial  empire.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  with  the  ces- 
sation of  the  monopoly  a  salutary  change  will  take  place  in  this 
great  department  of  our  commercial  relations.  The  author  indeed 
declares  that  it  will  be  only  our  own  fault  if  it  is  otherwise. 

'*  To  preserve  the  same  relations  which  have  hitherto  existed  between 
the  Chinese  government  and  the  British  merchant  will  be  impossible. 
It  will  give  rise  to  incessant  quarrels  on  both  sides.  There  is  no  law  in 
China  to  protect  the  British  merchant,  nor  has  there  ever  been  a  com- 
mercial treaty  concluded  to  secure  the  trade.  There  exists  no  commercial 
tariff,  no  mutual  understanding,  no  friendly  relation.  The  most  unpre- 
judiced man  will  very  soon  feel  the  rod  of  this  paternal  government.  But 
let  us  not  anticipate  too  many  evils,  since  we  may  rest  assured  that  the 


250  ffiitery  of  ike  Briiiak  (kimiiet. 

Britiab  govt rnodent  will  take  wise  and  vigorous  mettsures  lo  pttttheende 
upon  a  nrm  basis,  and  to  encourage  eyery  enterprise  for  its.  exteasiaa/' 
*---voL  ii»  p.  413. 

We  m»t  now  dismiss  these  Tcdmnes  with  the  imeated  optnkm 
that  they  contain  a  dear  »nd  condensed  sketch  of  Chinese  history. 
The  retrospect  of  the  foreign  intercourse  and  trade  with  that  pecn- 
Ear  people  leads  to  many  suggestions  which  naturally  strike  th^ 
mind  of  the  reader,  and  no  doubt  will  be  taken  advantage  of  by  those 
intrusted  with  that  department  of  our  trading  interests.  The 
work  indeed  is  dedicated  to  Charles  Grant,  President  of  the  Board 
of  Control.  Its  value  is  enhanced  by  a  large  map  of  the  Chinese 
empire,  and  by  a  number  of  tables  containing  returns  of  trade  th«*e- 
with  connected  by  British  ships  for  many  years. 


Art.  IX. — History  of  the  British  Colonies,    By  R.  Montgombrt  Mar- 
tin.   London  :  Cochrane  and  M*Crone.  1834. 

Whbn  the  first  volume  of  Mr.  Martinis  history  came  under  our 
review,  we  spoke  in  very  strong  and  decided  terms  of  its  excellence, 
and  predicted  that  if  the  succeeding  portions  of  the  work  equalled 
in  point  of  care  and  talent  that  part,  the  author  would  confer  upon 
mankind  a  great  benefit,  and  establish  for  himself  a  deathless 
name.  We  now  see  that  all  fear  of  a  falling  ofi^  may  be  laid  aside, 
and  that  this  volume  is  a  worthy  companion  for  the  preceding.  Nor 
indeed  with  a  mind  constituted  like  that  of  Mr.  Martin  could  it  be 
otherwise,  when  we  consider  the  field  of  this  efibrt.  If  the  British 
colonies  in  the  East  engaged  his  fervour  of  heart  and  style,  was  it 
to  be  supposed  that  those  in  an  opposite  direction  of  the  globe 
oould  be  teas  worthy  of  his  sympathy  and  zeal,  when  the  subjtet  in 
both  bore  on  the  welfare  and  the  condition  of  man?  Was  it  pos- 
aiUe  that  the  West  Indies  should  pass  under  the  review  of  his  Ube- 
raly  warm,  and  Christian  spirit,  without  eliciting  the  eloquence  of 
•wakened  humanity,  and  affording  him  an  opportunity  of  even  a 
finer  effiirt  than  ever  heretofore  presented  itself  to  his  powers  ? 

But  this  volume  consists  not  merely  or  chiefly  of  ardent  senti- 
ments of  a  general  or  declamatory  kind  ;  correct  facts  and  practi- 
cal conclusions  are  what  the  author  is  mainly  employed  upon.  Sta- 
tistical tables  of  population,  trade  and  finance^  geological  descrip- 
tioDs  and  geograplncal  delineations^  rather  than  theoretical  viewa 
and  abstract  disquisitions^  are  the  objects  of  bis  great  care ;  and 
upon  these  he  is  entitled  and  he  can  afibrd  to  build  strong  appeahr 
ud  warm  addresses.  It  is  this  real  and  matter-of-fiGu;t  character, 
whidi  is  now-a-days  alone  sure  of  obtaining  lasting  attention^hat 
renders  the  volume  before  n»  so  valuable  as  an  authority  on  West 
Indiaquestions.  Long,  and  till  lately,  distorted  views  were  taken 
of  the  state  of  the  colonies  referred  to,  by  many  men  at  home,  and 
the  vilest  and  most  dangerous  doctrines  advocated  on  the  interests 
therewith  connected.     We  rejoice  that  the  legislature  has  set  at 


HUtoty  of  the  BrUish  Cqlaniet,  351 

i:^  the  }»Wf  and  ^bo  that  this  volume  does  the  same  thiog  with, 
th^  facte  ojf  th^  oaee. 

The  author  telle  ue  that  the  work^  part  of  which  we  toe  now  to 
give  some  aocoant^  has  eoet  bim  years  of  peril  and  privatioD  abroad 
and  at  home;  that  few  can  imagine  the  difficulties  which  he  has  had* 
to  surmoont  even  in  proceeding  so  fiir  as  he  has  done ;  and  that  he 
shoold  have  sunk  beneath  thepressure  of  unremitted  toil^  had  he  not' 
been  supported  by  the  4Son8ciottsness  that  his  conntiy  will  reap 
some  benefit  from  his  sacrifices,  and  that  he  owed  a  duty  to  so- 
ciety, to  extend  by  every  possible  exertion  social  and  commercial 
freedom,  and  thus  help  to  lessen  the  number  of  wretched  and  indi- 
gent throughout  the  world.  He  savs  that  extended  commerce 
relieves  want--*<that  competence  anoioilates  ignorance-^^^and  that- 
knowledge  is  virtuCj  and  power  happiness. 

In  an  introductory  chapter  to  this  volume,  in  which  the  author 
throws  himself  upon  the  indulgence  of  the  public  in  a  manner  that  c£ 
itself  bespeaks  fitvour,  we  have  a  short  outline  of  the  history  of  the 
discovery,  conquest,  and  colonization  of  the  West  Indies  ;  the  rine, 
progress^  wid  abolition  of  slavery,  &c.  *'  At  the  close  of  the  iSth 
century^  these  islands  were  discovered  by  the  Spaniards  ;  but  the 
French  and  English  began  to  molest  them  ere  many  years  elapsed. 
The  commencement  of  the  17th  century  saw  the  first  British  coloni- 
zation there,  but  during  the  next  fifty  yearsj  or  so,  the  progress  of. 
English  and  French  settlements  was  very  rapid ;  and  whilst,  as  in 
some  instances,  the  subjects  of  each  nation  resided  on  the  same 
ialand,  it  fell  out  that,  as  war.  raged  in  Europe  between  the  mother 
OMintries  of  these  settlers,  so  was  it  carried  on  in  the  west,  but  with 
greater  bitterness  and  fury.  In  1810,  Britain  had  captured  everv 
<me  of  the  islands  in  question,  belonging  to  any  power  at  war  with 
her  in  Europe.  At  the  downfall  of  Buonaparte,  however,  in  1815,  a 
restoration  and  repartitioning  of  the  West  Indies  took  place,  and 
they  have  since,  remained  under  the  government  of  the  English, 
French,  Spaniards,  Danes,  and  Dutch."  We  must  not  garble  the 
following  paragraphs,  descriptive  in  a  general  form  of  the  conduct 
of  Europeans  in  their  power  over  these  islands,  but  which  descrip- 
tion is  particularly  borne  out  in  the  severs}  chapters  that  are  after- 
if  ards  introduced  into  the  volume  :-^ 

**  When  Columbus  fiivl  discovered  the  New  World,  he  found  tbe  whole 
oontinenft,  and  every  island,  however  small,  densely  peopled  with  a  mild, 
and  just,  and  generous  race  of  men  (I  do  not  allude  to  the  Garibs  scat- 
tered throughout  the  Archipelago,  and  preying,  or  rather  feasting  on  their 
feliow-ereatures),  with  skins  of  a  copper  or  light  bronze  colour,  long  silky 
black  hair,  finely  formed  limbs,  and  pleasing  features;  in  some  instances 
warlike,  and  civilized  to  no  mean  extent;  in  others,  living  in  luxurious 
idleness,  under  the  enervating  effects  of  a  tropical  clime.  Such  were  the 
Indians,  among  whom  history  records  some  of  the  rarest  instances  of  true 
heroism  that  man  has  ever  been  ennobled  by. 

"  Within  a  few  short  years  after  the  discovery  of  the  W.  I.  islands  by 
the  Spaniards,  they  had  for  the  greatest  part  perished, — millions  of  them 


252  History  of  the  British  Colonies. 

had  been  swept  from  the  face  of  the  earth  like  so  many  ants  ^m  an  ant- 
hill,— countless  myriads  sank  into  the  grave  by  reason  of  the  avarice  of  a 
mere  handful  of  desperate,  immoral,  and  murderous  adventurers  from  the 
west  I  This  is  one  of  the  extraordinary,  the  inscrutable,  the  awful  dis- 
pensations of  Providence,  which  it  is  forbidden  to  mortals  to  divine;  the 
human  mind  dwindles  with  all  its  boasted  wisdom  into  utter  insignificance, 
when  attempting  to  fathom  the  intentions  of  the  Almighty;  and  I  merely 
record  the  fact,  in  order  to  induce  the  contemplation  of  the  most  terrible 
event  in  the  moral  history  of  our  species,  and  to  show  how  weak,  how 
powerless,  how  pitiful  is  man,  either  as  an  individual,  or  when  congre- 
gated into  society,  in  attempting  to  resist  the  decrees  of  Heaven. 

"  I  pass  from  this  melancholy  truth  to  glance  at  another  event  scarcely 
less  astounding,  as  regards  its  long  and  desolating  continuance ;  I  allude 
to  the  slave  trade.  When  the  Spaniards  found  how  rapidly  the  aboriginal 
or  Indian  population  of  the  West  India  isles  perished  under  the  system  of 
forced  labour,  and  beneath  the  tyranny  of  their  rule,  the  expedient  of 
introducing  negro  slaves  from  Africa  was  resorted  to,  and  that  infernal' 
traffic  in  human  blood  and  agony — doubly  curst  to  the  enslaver  and  to 
the  enslaved— spread  into  deadly  and  ferocious  activity.  The  example 
of  the  Spaniards  was  soon  followed  by  the  Portuguese,  Dutch,  French, 
and  English;  companies  for  the  horrid  traffic  were  formed — ^monopolies 
granted ;  and  kings,  princes,  and  nobles  enriched  their  coffers  with  the 
price  of  human  blood. 

"  About  thirty  millions  of  our  fellow-creatures  have  been  dragged  from 
their  native  homes,  shipped  like  cattle  in  chains  to  a  distant  land,  worked 
like  the  beasts  of  the  field,  shot  like  dogs  if  they  murmured  forth  a  claim 
in  behalf  of  humanity — and  finally  they  have  (with  few  exceptions)  pined 
and  perished  under  the  cruelties,  avarice,  and  brutality,  of  a  handful  of 
Europeans, — ^for  of  the  thirty  millions  exported  from  Africa  to  the  West 
Indies  since  the  commencement  of  the  sixteenth  century,  not  half  a  million 
of  the  original  slaves,  or  of  their  unmixed  descendants,  are  now  in  exist- 
ence I 

**  I  cannot  in  this .  instance,  no  more  than  in  the  former,  penetrate  the 
ways  of  God  towards  man, — of  the  Being  who  declareth  that  '  He  that 
stealeth  a  man  and  selleth  him,  or  if  he  be  found  in  his  hands,  he  shall 
surely  be  put  to  death.'  Exod,  xxi.  16.  I  have  carefully  studied  the 
pages  of  W.  India  histoiy  which  chronicle  the  deeds  of  upwards  of  300 
years,  and  I  find  nothing  but  wars,  usurpations,  crimes,  misery,  and  vice : — 
no  green  spot  in  the  desert  of  human  wretchedness  on  which  the  mind  of 
a  philanthropist  would  love  to  dwell ; — all — all  is  one  revolting  scene  of 
infamy,  bloodshed,  and  unmitigated  woe.  Slavery  (both  Indian  and 
Negro),  that  blighting  upas,  has  been  the  curse  of  the  West  Indies;  it  has 
accompanied  the  white  colonist,  whether  Spaniard,  Frenchman,  or  BriUm, 
in  his  progress,  tainting,  like  a  plague,  every  incipient  association,  and 
blasting  the  efforts  of  man,  however  originally  well  disposed,  by  its  demon- 
like influence  over  the  natural  virtues  with  which  his  Creator  had  en-' 
dowed  him — ^leaving  all  dark,  and  cold,  and  desolate  within." — ^pp.vi. — ^ir. 

If  every  philanthropist  in  our  country  has  wept  over  the  share 
which  Britons  have  had  in  these  atrocities,  let  us  at  least  claim  this 
honour,  that  England  was  the  last  nation  in  Europe  to  enter  into 
the  accursed  traffic  in  human  beings ;  she  was  the  first  to  relin- 


HUtnry  of  the  British  Coionies,  253 

quiflh  it,  which  the  author  justly  attributes  chiefly  to  the  power 
.  which  Christianity  hm  over  the  minds  of  its  true  followers. 

The  possession  in  the  West  Indies  belonging  to  Britain,  first 
taken  up  by  the  author,  is  Guyana,  which  extends  about  200  miles 
(we  adopt  Mr.  Martin's  calculations,  which  are  evidently  made  with 
great  care)  from  east  to  west  along  the  'Main'  of  the  South  Ame- 
rican Continent,  covering  the  vast  area  of  nearly  100,000  square 
miles.  This  country  is  almost  perfectly  flat  and  alluvial,  resembling^ 
in  this  particular,  Holland.  The  chief  rivers  are  the^  Essequibo, 
Demerara,  and  Berbice:  and  they  ai*e  in  size  such  as  indeed  may 
be  called  great.  The  unhealthiness  of  this  extensive  tract  was,  in 
respect  to  Europeans  on  their  early  settlement  there,  very  detructive; 
but  of  late  years,  owing  to  the  clearing  of  the  coast  and  a  free  cir- 
cmlation  of  air  being  admitted,  the  climate  has  improved.  We  must 
quote  the  following  encouraging  calculation : — 

*^  Demerara  baa  been  cited  as  one  of  the  strongest  instances  of  a  delete- 
rious atmosphere,  particularly  among  our  West  India  colonies,  but  when 
we  come  to  examine  facts  it  turns  ou|  otherwise ;  the  range  of  mortality, 
even  among  the  labouring,  slave  population,  is  about  one  in  thirty rseven 
to  forty,  but  in  London  and  France  it  is  equal  as  regards  the  whoie  popu- 
lation, rich  and  poor,  and  in  other  countries  it  is  even  more;  thus,  in 
Naples,  one  in  thirty-four ;  Wirteraberg,  one  in  thirty-three ;  Paris,  one 
in  thirty-two  ;  Berlin,  one  in  thirty-four ;  Nice,  one  in  thirty-rone ; 
Madrid,  one  in  twenty-nine;  Rome,  one  in  twenty-five;  Amsterdam, 
one  in  twenty-four ;  Vienna,  one  in  twenty-two  and  a  half  I  Thus  that 
which  is  termed  our  most  unhealthy  West  India  colony  has,  even  as 
regards  its  working  population,  a  greater  duration  of  life  than  the  rich 
and  poor  of  some  of  the.  principal  parts  of  Europe  I  On  six  years,  ending 
1832,  the  increase  on  40,892  Creole  population  was  3,678,  or  nine  per 
cent.  The  foUowii^  comparison  will  put  this  point  more  clearly ;  in  the 
Appei^dix  to  the  Report  of  the  Committee  of  the  House  of  Commons  on 
the  Factory  BilU  it  appears,  that,  in  a  number  of  10,000  deaths  in  a 
healthy  county  (Rutland)  under  twenty  years  of  age,  3,756  died  ;  under 
forty  years  of  age,  5,031  died ;  lived  to  forty  years  and  upwards,  4,969. 
In  London,  under  twenty  years  of  age,  4y58()  died ;  under  foi*ty  years  of 
age,  6,1 11  died ;  lived  to  forty  years  and  upwards,  3,889.  In  the  town 
of  Preston,  under  twenty  years  of  age,  6,083  died ;  under  forty  years  of 
age,  79462  died ;  lived  to  forty  years  and  upwards,  2,538.  .  In  the  town  of 
Leeds,  under  twenty  years  oi  age,  6,213  died ;  under  forty  years  of  age, 
7*441  died ;  lived  to  forty  years  and  upwards,  .2,559.  In  the  town  of 
Bolton,  under  twenty  years  of  age,  6,113  died ;  under  forty  years  of  age, 
7,459  died ;  lived  to  forty  years  and  upwards,  2,541 :  contrast  this  with 
Demerara,  where  it  appears,  hy  the  last  registration,  that  the  deaths, 
during  the  triennial  period,  were  7il06,  of  whom  died  under  twenty  years 
of  age,  1,929;  died  under  forty  years  of  age,  3,359;  and  3,657  lived  to 
upwards  of  forty  years  of  age  Supposing,  then,  the  number  of  deaths,  to 
have  been  10,000,  instead  of  7f016,  the  result  would  be— died  under 
twenty  years  of  -age,  2,749 ;  died  under  forty  years  of  age,  4,788 ;  and 
lived  to  forty  and  upwards,  5,212,  being  243  in  fiavour  of  the  duration  of 
life  in  the  colony  of  Demerara,  as  compared  with  a  healthy  county 


U4  Hilary  of  tkt  Bfiti$k  C&htUes. 

(Rutland)  in  England, and  asdllgreat^raiMlfMfeteing'ditt^r^ilceinfbYmir 
of  th9  colony,  as  compared  with  §ie  UfmiB  befijre  mentioned."-«^pp.  I7, 18. 

The  author  elsewhere  says,  that  he  agteeir  with  the  surteyor  of  De- 
xneraray  that  the^e  is  no  cioubt,  if  the  hand  of  cultivation  reached 
the  hillfi  of  the  interior^  and  a  few  artificial  improvements  were  added 
to  the  advantages  of  local  situation,  the  chmate  of  the  Indies  would 
be  the  most  healthy  and  agreeable  of  any  within  the  tropics,  with 
fish,  flesh,  fowl,  ana  vegetables  in  abundance,  pure  water,  no  fever, 
and  no  mosquitoes. 

The  Indian  tribes  in  British  Guvana  are  enumerated,  and  many 
particulars  respecting  them  given  by  the  author.  In  speaking  of 
the  Arrawaaks,  who  Kve  within  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  plan- 
tations, their  domestic  manners  and  arrangements  are  not  a  little 
instructive : — 

"  Polygamy  is  allowed  and  practised  by  all  those  who  have  the  means 
of  maintenance  for  a  plurality  of  wives.  This  is  generally  the  case  with 
the  chiefs  or  captains,  who  have  sometimes  three  or  four'  wives.  AH  tike 
inconveniences  common  in  Europe,  where  there  are  more  mistresses  tfaafi 
one  in  the  house,  are  also  felt  here ;  and  envy,  jealousy,  snd  henpecking, 
are  perfee^y  understood  by  their  effects  in  the  Arrawaak  seraglio*  The  in- 
terference of  the  hushand,  with  a  stout  bush  rope,  is  frequently  neoessary 
to  restore  tranquillity,  and  he  is  often  driven  out  of  the  house  by  the  din 
of  domestic  waxfiare. 

'*  The  captain  commands  the  services  of  the  families  of  his  differeitt 
wives  on  emergencies ;  and,  in  return,  he  is  required  to  become  the  pHn^ 
cipal  in  all  feuds,  and  to  eicercise  towards  them  all  the  rights  of  hospita- 
lity, in  their  most  e:stended  sense.  On  any  scarcity  of  provirions,  or  pre* 
valence  of  sickness,  all  the  branches  of  the  family  flock  to  the  dwelUdg 
of  the  chief,  and  live  at  his  expense,  without  the  least  doubt  of  a  weU 
come.  It  therefore  frequently  happens  that  the  chief  is  fairly  eaten  out 
of  house  and  home,  and  his  cassava  field  completely  exhausted*  In  this 
predicament  he  unties  his  hammock,  puts  his  family  into  his  canoe,  and 
Starts  off  to  pay  his  round  of  visits  amongst  his  friends,  at  whose  ejLpense 
he  lives,  till  his  next  crop  of  provisions  coming  in,  enables  him  td  return 
to  his  home.  The  visiting  is  a  complete  system,  and  is  always  made  to 
occupy  three  months  of  the  twelve. 

'*  The  Arrawaak,  therefore,  in  preparing  his  cassava  fieldiS,  calculates 
upon  provisions  for  his  families  and  guests  for  nine  months ;  and  he  is 
never  disappointed  in  the  hospitality  of  his  friends  fof  iht  supply  €/t  the 
other  three,  although  this  might  be  a  dangerotis^  experiment  ill  a  more 
civilized  community." — ^pp.  36, 87. 

The  Accawai,  another  tribe,  have  a  strange  tray  of  ttynog  the 
temper  of  any  one  with  whom  they  hold  an  intercourse.  They  are 
expert  and  determined  humorists,  and  notdble  in  ^bricating  tiick- 
names  :— 

<'  They  do  not  see  a  Buropean  twice,  without  aff^g  to  him  some 
ridiculous  epithet,  most  mortifying  to  hia  personal  Vanity.  Rank  and  title 
have  no  influence  with  them  in  waving  this  custom}  but  even  a  govemot 
or  protector  hiis  no  beiiefit  from  his  station,  but  by  being  made  appear 


JOktaiy  c/tke  BrUish  Cohmes.  255 

o<m8|»euou8ly  tidieulcius..  This  is  rery  annoying  to  individuals  in 
aotbority  over  tbem ;  but  it  is  meant  as  a  trial  of  temper ;  and.  If  passed 
over,  or  merely  laughed  at,  they  3rield  in  return  a  most  prompt  obedience, 
and  an  alacrity  in  the  execution  of  the  duties  required  of  them,  unknowii 
to  the  other  tribes.  In  fact,  the  Accawai  are  more  difficult  to  command 
by  strangers  than  the  others ;  but  if  they  see  that  you  will  not  be  put 
out  of  humour,  nor  lose  your  self-possession,  they  will  soon  evince  an 
affsction  and  devotion,  increasing  as  they  become  better  acquainted  with 
the  object  of  it,  and  yielding  to  no  instances  of  European  fidelity.  But 
he  first  impression  is  with  them  indelible ;  and  if  it  be  unfavourable,  no 
conciliatory  attempt,  or  after-eflforts,  can  efface  it.  An  Accaway,  if  once 
a  friend,  is  always  a  friend ;  but,  if  in  enmity  with  you,  he  can  never  bo 
reconciled.  With  indifferent  persons,  the  Accaways  are  very  Jews  at  a 
bargain ;  but  they  will  sell  to  a  favourite  for  one-half  what  they  demand 
of  a  stranger,  and  they  seldom  pay  debts  till  they  are  forced  to  do  it." — 
pp.  46,  47. 

The  author  furnishes  minute  information  on  a  great  variety  of 
points.  Besides  the  history  of  the  population  of  each  British  set- 
tlement^  of  the  commerce,  the  productions^  the  government,  the 
several  branches  of  nataral  science,  and  many  other  subjects  be- 
longing to  each;  religion,  education,  the  press,  and pubhc  institu- 
tions, are  all  treated  of.  Take  as  a  specimen  what  he  furnishes,  in 
regard  to  Guyana,  on  some  of  these  last-mentioned  heads  : — 

^*  Throughout  the  West  India  colonies  considerable  efforts  have  been 
made  by  the  local  governments  and  legislatures,  for  several  years  back, 
to  promote  religion  and  education;  and  by  none  more  so  than  Guyana; 
in  Demerara  and  Easequibo  ^independent  of  Berbice)  there  are  attached 
to  the  Established  Church  ot  England  seven  rectors  and  one  curate;  to 
the  Church  of  Holland,  two  ministers;  to  the  Church  of  Scotland,  five 
ministers;  and  to  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  two  priests;  twelve  cate- 
chists,  or  schoolmasters,  one  being  attached  to  each  parish  church  of  the 
English  and  Scotch  persuasion ;  besides  four  schools  in  George  Town  for 
free  boys  and  girls,  and  slave  boys  and  girls,  to  which  there  are  two  mas- 
ters and  two  mistresses.  The  annual  sum  paid  to  the  clergymen,  cate- 
chists,  schoolmasters  and  mistresses,  from  the  colonial  fund,  amounts  to. 
135,450  guilders,  equal  to  about  £10,000 :  in  addition  to  this  sum,  there 
have  been  expended,  between  the  years  1824  and  1831,  upwards  of 
350,000  guilders,  equal  to  about  £26,000,  on  the  building  of  churches 
and  parsonages;  independently  of  which,  large  sums  have  voluntarily 
been  contributed  by  individuals  for  that  purpose.  On  the  estimate  for 
the  year  1832,  a  sum  of  200,725  guilders,  equal  to  £14,337,  was  placed 
for  ihe  support  of  the  establishment  for  tha!t  year  alone. 

^*  Let  it  be  remembered  that  these  expenses  are  borne  solely  by  the  in- 
habitants, by  taxes  levied  on  them  by  the  Court  of  Policy,  combined  with 
the  financial  repfesentatives  of  the  community.  In  Berbice  there  were« 
in  1831, three  places  of  worship  capable  of  holding  1,000  persons;  and 
the  usual  congregation  is  800.  There  are  two  public  or  free  schools, 
with  155  male  and  147  female  scholars. 

**  The  press  has  made  as  much  progress  as  could  be  expected  in  a  com* 
munity  where  the  cultivation  of  the  land  and  proportion  of  its  products 
form  the  chief  object  of  men^s  attention. 


256  History  of  the  British  Coiomes. 

'*  There  are  two  well-conducted  newspapers;  a  very  good  almanack,  the 
printing  of  which  would  not  he  discreditable  to  a  London  typographer; 
and  several  local  works  printed  in  Demerara  show  that  the  mighty  en^^ne 
of  civilization,  by  which  I  trust  its  blessings  will  be  extended  and  perpe- 
tuated, is  imaking  progress  on  the  continent  of  South  America. 

*^  Among  the  English  colonists  the  Episcopalian  is  the  principal  creed, 
and  each  parish  has  its  rector,  under  the  diocese  of  Barbadoes;  the  Dutch 
have  their  Lutheran  church  and  minister,  the  Romish  their  chapel^  and 
minister,  all  paid  (as  I  before  said)  and  supported  by  the  colony;  and 
there  are  several  active  and  useful  missionaries  endeavouring  to  instil 
Christianity  into  the  negro  population.  Of  the  creed  of  the  Indians  we 
know  little.  Mr.  Hillhouse  says  that  they  acknowledge  the  existence  of 
a  superior  divinity,  the  universal  Creator ;  and  most  tribes  also  believe  in 
a  subservient  power,  whose  particular  province  is  the  protection  of  their 
nation.  Amongst  the  Arrawaaks,  Aluberi  is  the  supreme  being,  and 
KurutTimanny  the  god  or  patron  of  the  Arrawaak  nation." — ^vol.  ii.  pp. 
67,68.  .  . 

On  the  subject  of  the  timber  which  our  West  India  possessio  ns 
furnish,  the  author  describes  a  great  variety  of  kinds,  out  of  which 
he  says  a  valuable  trade  might  be  carried  on,  and  with  which  many 
nseful  articles  might  be  made  in  England.  But  we  have  not  room 
for  any  part  of  the  enumeration  of  such  trees.  By  means  of  a  plant 
the  Indians  have  a  sweeping  method  of  catching  fish,  which  we,  for 
the  information  of  pond  and  river  poachers  in  this  country,  may  give. 

"  The  Hiary  (with  which  the  Indians  intoxicate  fish)  is  a  plant  of  the 
papilonacea  order,  bearing  a  small  quantity  of  bluish  blossoms,  which  pro* 
duce  pods  about  two  inches  long,  less  in  the  leaf  than  a  goose  quill,  and 
enclosing  about  ten  small  grey  leaves ;  leaf  nine  inches  long,  central  stem 
with  four  spear-pointed  leaflets  on  each  side,  two  inches  long  and  one  at 
the  apex :  root,  when  full  grown,  three  inches  in  diameter,  containing  a 
guminy  milky' juice,  which  is  a  powerful,  narcotic,  and  prepared  by  the 
Indians  for  fishing,  by  beating  with  sticks  until  reduced  to  a  mass  like 
coarse  hemp ;  the  Hiary  root  is  then  employed  to  saturate  a  corial  (canoe) 
full  of  water  until  it  is  of  a  milky  whiteness,  then  conveyed  to  the  selected 
fishing  spot,  and  the  water  sprinkled  with  the  infusion  (a  solid  cubic  foot 
of  the  root  will  poison  an  acre  of  water  surface);  in  about  twenty  minutes 
every  fish  within  its  influence  rises  to  the  surface,  and  is  either  taken  by 
the  hand  or  shot  with  arrows,  neither  deteriorated  in  quality  nor  tainting 
more  rapidly  than  when  hooked." — vol.  ii.  p.  80. 

A  very  great  amount  of  highly  interesting  matter  has  been  col- 
lected in  respect  of  our  possessions  in  South  America^  which  shows 
that  their  importance  and  capabilities  are  immense.  They  clearly 
oiler  a  wide  and  fruitful  field  for  the  industry  of  the  emigrant  and 
the  enterprize  of  the  merchant,  as  well  as  for  natural  science.  Mfl- 
lions  of  acres  of  fertile  land,  now  lying  waste,  are  adapts  to  the 
cultivation  of  every  tropical  product  of  which  the  mother  country 
stands  in  need. 

The  magnificent  island  of  Jamaica  is  next  taken  up  by  the 
author,  which  is  160  miles  long  by  45  broad,  containing  4,000,000 
acres.     It  was  discovered  by  Columbus  on  the  morning  of  the  3rd 


History  of  the  British  Colonies,  257 

.  •  "       • 

of  May,  1494,  during  his  second  voyage  to  the  New  World.  In 
the  course  of  about  half  a  century,  it  is  stated  that  the  native  inha- 
bitants had  nearly  entirely  perished,  and  an  old  writer  some  time 
afterwards  says  that  the  Spaniards  had  slain  more  than  60,000.  At 
length  the  island  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  English  during  Crom- 
well's Protectorate.  Negro  slaves  appear  to  have  been  imported 
hither  by  the  British  in  pursuance  of  the  policy  of  their  prede- 
cessors. Its  succeeding  rise  in  value  and  importance  cannot  be  here 
traced.  Of  the  physicid  aspect  of  Jamaica  the  author  thus  speaks ; — 

"  This  beautiful  isle,  happily  screened  by  Cuba  and  Hispaniola  from  the 
tempestuous  winds  of  the  Atlantic,  and  peculiarly  adapted  for  an  extensive 
and  profitable  commerce  with  the  adjacent  continent,  by  reason  of  the 
number  and  disposition  of  its  excellent  havens,  is  really  one  of  our  most 
valuable  colonies..  Jamaica  is  somewhat  of  an  oval  shape,  with  an  elevated 
ridge,  called  the  '  Blue  Mountains*  (towering  in  some  places  to  nearly 
8,000  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea),  running  longitudinally  through  the 
isle  E.  and  W.  and  occasionally  intersected  by  other  high  ridges,  traversing 
from  N.  to  S.. ;  approaching  the  sea  on  the  6.  coast  in  gigantic  spines,  of 
sharp  ascent-— difficult  of  access,  and  clothed  with  dense  and  sombre 
forests ; — on  the  N.  declining  into  lovely  mounds  and  round- topped  hills, 
covered  with  groves  of  pimento,  and  all  the  exquisite  verdure  of  the  tropics, 
— ^the  coup  tTceii  presenting  a  splendid  panorama  of  high  mountains,  em- 
bosomed in  clouds,  and  vast  savannahs  or  plains,  hills  and  vales,  rivers, 
bays,  and  creeksj  'llie  middle  part,  called  Pedro's  Cockpit,  lying  between 
Clarendon  and  St.  Ann's  parishes,  is  spread  for  an  extent  of  many  miles 
with  an  infinite  number  of  round-topped  hills,  whose  surface,  covered  with 
a  loose  lime-stone,  or  honey-combed  rock,  is  clothed  with  fine  cedar  and 
other  trees,  of  enormous  bulk ;  the  dales  or  cockpits  meandering  between 
these  hummocks  contain  a  rich  soil,  of  great  depth,  where  the  succideiit 
Guinea  grass  forms  a  perfect  carpet  of  ever- verdant  beauty." — ^vol.  ii.  pp. 
163.  164. 

The  island  is  fiiiitfiil  in  all  the  rich  vegetables  of  the  tropics,  but 
its  present  staple  production  is  sugar.  The  quantity  imported  into 
Great  Britain  has,  for  some  years,  averaged  1,400,000  cwt.  which, 
rated  so  low  as  twenty-one  shillings  per  cwt.^  urould  give  one  million 
and  a  half  sterling.  The  amount  of  rum  made  from  the  sugar  is 
also  great ;  the  annual  average  exportations  may  be  taken  at 
3,500,000  gallons.  The  author's  observations  on  the  social  state 
and  future  prospects  of  the  island  are  such  as  we  think  no  unpreju- 
diced person  can  dissent  from. 

'*  The  transition  which  society  is  now  undergoing  in  all  our  slave  colo* 
niea  renders  it  impracticable  to  say  much  on  this  head :  judging  from  the 
pastt  and  from  the  temper  with  which  the  Slave  Emancipation  Bill  was 
passed,  a  less  gloomy,  if  not  a  more  happy  augury  than  has  been  indulged 
in,  may  be  formed  for  the  future.  The  condition  of  the  slave  population 
has  long  been  undergoing  amelioration,  and  the  coloured  colonists  have 
been  admitted  to  those  rights,  and  to  that  position  in  socfety,  to  which 
their  talents,  wealth,  and  conduct,  might  entide  them ;  no  political  or  reli- 
gious disabilities  exist;  the  progress  of  liberal  institutions  has  been  suffici- 
ently gradual  to  allow  of  their  taking  permanent  root,  and  affording  that 

VOL.  III.  (1834.)  NO.  II.  T 


258  History  of  the  British  Coionies. 

constitutional  freedom  which  is  the  result  of  order,  security  of  person,  and 
the  safe  enjoyment  of  property. 

"  I  look  not  despondingly  on  the  prospects  of  Jamaica,  or  the  other 
West  India  islands  or  possessions ;  on  the  contrary,  I  think  (as  indeed  has 
been  demonstrated  by  Mr.  Ward,  in  reference  to  the  cultivation  of  sugar 
on  the  South  American  continent)  that  the  abolition  of  one  of  the  direst 
curses  with  which  mankind  was  ever  afflicted  will  place  society  on  a  surer 
basis,  and  give  renewed  stimulus  and  energy  to  every  one  possessed  of 
property ;  and  when  we  reflect  that  out  of  upwards  of  4,000,000  acres  in 
Jamaica,  only  2.235,732  are  occupied,  and  with  only  fifly-six  mouths  to 
a  sq[i]are  mile,  (Barbadoes  has  816 !)  we  see  what  ample  scope  there  is  for 
a  developement  of  social  prosperity  and  happiness.  Lord  Belmore  justly 
observed,  that  the  capabilities  of  this  fine  island  would  never  be  brought 
forward  until  slavery  was  abolished.  In  this  sentence  his  Lordship  doubt- 
less alluded  to  the  introduction  of  free  white  labourers,  the  advantages  of 
which  will  be  found  set  forth  under  the  General  View  of  the  West  India 
Colonies ;  there  are  very  many  articles  which  might  be  largely  cultivated 
and  prepared  in  Jamaica,  that  would  yield  a  more  profitable  return  than 
sugar,  such,  for  instance,  as  pepper,  ginger,  nutmeg,  and  A'arious  spices, — 
silk,  indigo,  cotton,  drugs,  opium,  and  dye  stufifs ;  but  Jamaica,  and  our 
other  possessions  in  the  West  India  Islands,  have  a  right  to  demand  from 
the  mother  country  a  reduction  of  the  present  enormous  duties  levied  on 
their  produce,  particularly  in  respect  to  the  article  sugar ;  the  colonists  of 
this  island,  in  common  with  their  brethren  throughout  the  western  pos- 
sessions, have  ever  distinguished  themselves  by  loyalty  and  attachment  to 
the  mother  country  in  times  of  difficulty  and  distress, — let  that  country 
now  exercise  common  justice  to  her  colonies,  and  they  will  prove,  even 
more  than  they  have  yet  done,  a  bulwark  of  maritime  strength  for  the 
empire,  and  a  mine  of  commercial  wealth  for  millions  of  the  human  race." 
— vol.  ii.  pp.  210—212. 

Trinidad  was  also  discovered  by  Columbus,  and  from  its  magif:- 
cent  aspect,  it  has  received  the  name  oi  the  Indian  Paradise.  Its 
position,  in  relation  to  the  South  American  eoast^  points  it  out  as  a 
possession  where  an  extensive  depot  might  be  most  advantageously 
formed  for  continental  commerce,  as  the  civilization  and  wealth  of 
the  Transatlanti«  republics  increase.  When  the  chivalrous  Sir 
Walter  Raliegh  visited  this  island  in  1595,  he  states  that  the  inha- 
bitants cultivated  excellent  tobacco  and  sugar-canes.  But  one  of 
its  greatest  curiosities  now  is  the  pitch  lake,  situate  on  the  leeward 
side :  it  is  nearly  circular,  and  better  than  half  a  league  in  length, 
and  the  same  in  breadth. 

'*  The  road  leading  to  the  lake  runs  through  a  wood,  and,  on  emei^ng 
from  it,  the  spectator  stands  on  the  borders  of  what  at  the  first  glance 
appears  to  be  a  lake,  containing  many  wooded  islets,  but  which,  on  a 
second  examination,  proves  to  be  a  sheet  of  asphaltum,  intersected 
throughout  by  crevices  three  or  four  feet  deep  and  full  of  water.  The 
pitch  at  the  sides  of  the  lake  is  perfectly  hard  and  cold,  but  as  one  walks 
towards  the  middle  with  the  shoes  off,  in  order  to  wade  through  the 
^water,  the  heat  gradually  increases,  the  pitch  becomes  softer  and  softer, 
until  at  last  it  is  seen  boiling  up  in  a  liquid  state,  and  the  soles  of  the 

t  become  so  heated  that  it  is  necessary  to  dance  up  and  down  in  the 


History  of  the  British  Colonies  259 

most  ridiculous  manner.  The  air  is  then  strongly  impregnated  with 
bitumen  a  nd  sulphur,  and  the  impression  of  the  feet  is  left  upon  the 
face  of  the  pitch.  During  the  rainy  season  it  is  possible  to  walk  over 
the  whole  lake  nearly,  but  in  the  hot  season  a  great  part  is  not  to  be 
approached.  Although  several  attempts  have  been  made  to  ascertain  the 
depth  of  the  pitch,  no  bottom  has  ever  been  found.  The  lake  is  about 
a  mi!e  and  a  half  in  circumference ;  and  not  the  least  extraordinaiy  cir- 
cumstance is,  that  it  should  contain  eight  or  ten  small  islands,  on  which 
trees  are  growing  close  to  the  boiling  pitch.  In  standing  still  on  the 
lake  near  the  centre,  the  surface  gradually  sinks,  forming  a  sort  of  bowl 
as  it  were,  and  when  the  shoulders  become  level  with  the  lake  it  is  high 
time  to  get  out.  Some  time  ago  a  ship  of  war  landed  casks  to  fill  wi^h 
the  pitch,  for  the  purpose  of  transporting  it  to  England ;  the  casks  were 
rolled  on  the  lake,  and  the  hands  commenced  filling;  but  a  piratical  craft 
appearing  in  the  offing,  the  frigate  with  all  hands  went  in  chase :  on  re* 
turning  to  the  lake  all  the  casks  had  sunk  and  disappeared.  There  is  a 
metallic  substance  thrown  up  by  the  pitch  fountains,  much  resembling 
copper  ore.  Science  is  at  a  loss  to  account  for  this  extraordinary  pheno- 
menon, for  the  lake  does  not  seem  to  occupy  the  mouth  of  an  exhausted 
crater,  neither  is  the  hill  on  which  it  is  situated  of  volcanic  origin,  for 
ita  bfisis  is  clay.  The  flow  of  pitch  from  the  lake  has  been  immense,  the 
whole  coimtry  round,  except  near  the  Bay  of  Grappo,  which  is  protected 
by  a  hill,  being  covered  with  it,  and  it  seems  singular  that  no  eruption 
baa  taken  place  within  the  memory  of  man,  although  the  principle  of  mo- 
tion still  exists  in  the  centre  of  the  lake.  The  appearance  of  the  pitch 
which  had  hardened  was  as  if  the  whole  surface  hadboiled  up  in  large  bub- 
bles, and  then  suddenly  cooled;  but  where  the  asphaltum  is  still  liquid^ 
the  surface  is  perfectly  smooth.  Many  experiments  have  been  made  to 
ascertain  whether  the  pitch  could  be  applied  to  any  useful  purpose.  Ad- 
miral Cochrane  sent  two  ship-loads  of  it  to  England,  but,  after  a  variety 
of  experiments,  it  was  found  necessary,  in  order  to  render  it  fit  for  use, 
to  mix  such  a  quantity  of  oil  with  it,  that  the  expense  of  oil  alone  ex- 
ceeded the  price  of  pitch  in  England.  Another  attempt  was  made  by  a 
company,  styled  the  Pitch  Company,  who  sent  out  an  agent  from  Eng- 
land, but  finding  Admiral  Cochrane  had  failed,  and  feeling  convinced 
any  further  attempt  would  be  useless,  he  let  the  matter  drop. — vol.ii.  pp. 
234—236. 

The  other  West  India  islands  belonging  to  the  British  are^  in 
their  turn,  described  by  the  author,  with  a  minuteness  in  all  their 
history  und  character  equal  to  the  specimens  which  we  have  ex- 
tracted. But,  without  even  naming  them  particularly,  we  hasten 
forward  to  notice  some  of  the  important  conclusions  to  which  the 
fiicts  gathered  by  him  inevitably  lead.  We  may,  however,  just  ob- 
serve, from  the  tables  fhmishing  returns  of  the  annual  population 
in  Trinidad  for  thirty  years,  that  the  aboriginal  inhabitants,  or  In- 
dians, are  fast  decreasing.  We  pass  over  Grrenada,  which  we  are 
informed  is  the  most  lovely  of  our  West  India  isles,  to  name  An- 
tigiiia,  and  to  extract  the  following  fact,  as  given  by  the  author  :• — 

**  I  cannot  pass  to  the  next  British  island  (in  a  geographical  position) 
witboiit  noticing  an  act  that  reflects  much  honour  on  the  colonists  of  An- 

t2 


260  History  of  the  Bruish  Colonies. 

tigua,  who  have  ever  been  distinguished  for  their  desire  to  mitigate  thie 
horrors  of  slavery,  and  to  inculcate  morality  and  religion  among  their 
dependents.  An  act  passed  the  Island  Assembly  ISth  February,  1834, 
and  was  ratified  by  the  council  two  days  after,  decreeing  the  emancipation 
of  every  slave  in  the  island  on  the  ]st  of  August,  1834,.  unqualified  from 
all  the  provisions  of  the  act  of  the  British  Parliament  with  reference  to 
apprenticeship.  The  bill  provides  for  locating,  in  their  present  domiciles, 
all  the  slaves  residing  upon  sugar  plantations  for  the  space  of  one  year,  and 
also  for  settlement  in  the  parishes  in  which  their  present  residences  are 
situated,  for  the  same  period.  In  case  of  insubordination  or  improper 
conduct,  two  magistrates  to  have  the  power  of  removing  them.  Food  and 
clothing,  as  now  provided  by  existing  laws,  to  be  supplied  to  the  old, 
infirm, and  young,  for  one  year,  at  the  proprietor's  expense,  and  reasonable 
wages  allowed  to  all  the  able  and  competent  labourers.  The  laws  of  the 
island  relative  to  the  slaves  to  be  abrogated,  and  the  statute  law  of  Eng- 
land, to  take  their  place. 

"  In  the  words  of  this  most  righteous  Act — *  From  and  after  the  1st  of 
AugiLst,  1834,  slavery  shall  be  and  is  hereby  utterly  and  for  ever  abo- 
lished and  declared  unlaw ftd  within  this  colony  and  its  dq>endenoies  !* 

**  I  trust  this  prompt  measure  of  the  Autiguans  will  be  met  in  a  cor- 
responding spirit  at  home,  and  that  the  destructive  four  and  a  half  per 
cent,  duties  levied  on  all  their  produce  exported  (and  which  his  present 
Majesty  has  so  nobly  resigned)  will  be  immediately  abolished — the  local 
act  for  its  abrogation  being  very  properly  combiTied  by  the  colonial  legis- 
lature in  the  Slavery  Emancipation  Act." — pp.  365,  366. 

Honduras. is  a  British  settlement  in  the  southern  part  of  the 
North  American  continent^  but  its  inland  boundaries  are  not  well 
defined.  It  however  may  embrace  an  area  of  62,750  square  miles^ 
the  coast  line  extending  about  270  miles.  The  author  says  that 
every  inducement  ought  to  be  held  out  by  government  for  settleta 
to  locate  themselves  on  the  waste  lands  of  this  territory,  wh&te 
about  60^000  miles  lie  untilled  ;  the  climate  bei^g  more  favourable 
to  European  constitutions  than  any  other  under  the  tropics.  We 
take  notice  of  the  way  in  which  the  celebrated  mahogany  tree  is 
got  at:— 

**  The  mode  of  procuring  it  is  to  despatch  a  skilful  n^ro  tp  climb  the 
highest  tree  on  lofty  places,  for  the  purpose  of  discovering  mahogany  in 
the  woods,  which  is  generally  solitary,  and  visible  at  a  g^eat  distance,  from 
the  yellow  hue  <of  its  folil^^e.  A  gang  of  from  ten  to  fifty  men  is  then 
sent  out  to  erect  a  scaffold  round  each  tree  that  is  selected^  and  to  cut  it 
down  about  twelve  feet  from  the  ground.  When  felled  the  logs  are  with 
much  labour  dragged  to  the  banks  of  the  streams,  and  being  formed  into 
crafia,  sometimes  of  200  united,  ase  floated  as  many  miles  to  places  where 
the  rivers  are  crossed  by  strong  cables,  and  then  the  owners  separate  their 
respective  shares.  It  is  said  that  the  boughs  and  limbs  afford  the  finest 
wood,  but  in  Britain  mahogany  is  more  valued  on  account  of  size;  and 
none  is  allowed  to  be  exported  to  the  United  States  of  America  exceeding 
20  inches  in  diameter.  The  logwood,  on  the  other  hand,  affects  low 
swampy  grounds,  growing  contiguous  to  fresh- water  creeks  and  lakes,  on 
the  edges  of  which,  the  roots,  the  most  valuable  part  of  the  wood,  extend. 


History  of  the  British  Colonies.  261 

It  is  sought  in  the  dry  season,  and  the  wood-cutters  having  built  a  hut  in 
the  vicinity  of  a  number  of  the  trees  on  the  same  spot,  collect  the  logs  in 
heaps,  and  afterwards  float  up  a  small  canoe  in  the  wet  season,  when  the 
ground  is  laid  under  water,  to  carry  them  off." — p.  417. 

The  author  is  very  earnest  in  his  endeavours^  as  shown  by  what 
is  before  us,  to  stir  the  public  attention  to  the  advantages  presented 
by  this  possession  : — 

"  I  cannot  conclude  this  chapter  without  expressing  my  regret  that 
such  an  important  settlement  as  Honduras  should  have  been  so  long 
neglected  at  home.     It  is  valuable  not  only  in  a  political,  but  in  a  com- 
mercial aspect,  inasmuch  as  it  opens  to  our  trade   new   regions  and 
countries,  while  its  rich  and  fertile  lands  await  only  the  skilful  handicraft 
of  the  British  emigrant  to  pour  forth  the  abundance  of  life.     The  elo- 
quent annalist  of  Jamaica,  writing  within  the  last  two  or  three  years, 
says, '  It  is  but  within  the  last  few  months  that  the  town  of  Peten^  situated 
2^  miles  west  of  Balize,  at  the  head  of  its  magnificent  river;  has  been 
exposed  to  speculation,  or  even  to  our  acquaintance.     A  road  b  now 
open,  and  a  lively  intercoune  with  the  British  merchants  has  arisen  there. 
Fleets  of  Indian  pit-pans  repair  almost  weekly  to  Balize,  and  return 
loaded  with  articles  of  British  manufacture.     Peten^  formerly  the  capital 
of  the  Itzaec  Indians,  was  one  of  the  last  conquests  of  the  Spaniards  in  the 
year  1679.    It  stands  on  an  island  in  the  centre  of  the  extensive  fresh- 
water lake  Itza,  in  lat.  16.  N.,  long.  91.1 6.  W.     Within  50  miles  of  it  the 
enterprising  spirit  of  the  British  settler  has  already  extended  the  search 
for  mahogany;  and  what  may  not  be  expected  from  a  people  so  in4us- 
trious,  so  judicious,  and  so  persevering  ?    The  Itza  is  26  leagues  in  cir- 
cumference, and  its  pure  waters,  to  the  depth  of  30  fathoms,  produce  the 
most  excellent  fish.    The  islands  of  Sepet^  Gaives^  Lopez^  Bixity  and 
Coju^  lie  scattered  over  its  sur&ce,  and  afford  a  delicious  retreat  to  10,000 
inhabitaikta,  who  form  part  of  the  new  republic  of  central  America, 
wilhin  the  spiritual  jurisdiction  of  the  Mexican  diocese  of  Yucatan. 
The  fertile  soil  yields  two  harvests  in  the  year,  producing  maize,  chiappa 
pepper,  balsam,  vanilla,  oottpn,  indigo,  cocoa,  cochineal,  Brazil  wood,  and 
the   most  exquisite  fruits,  in  wasteful  abundance.     Several  navigable 
rivers  flowing  thence  are  lost  in  the  great  Pacific,  and  suggest  an  easy 
communication  with  the  British  limits.     Within  ten  leagues  of  the  shores 
of  the  Itza  lake  commences  the  ridge  of  the  Alabaster  mountains,  on 
whose  surfEice  glitter  in  vast  profusion  the  green,  the  brown,  and  the 
variegated  jaspers,  while  the  forests  are  filled  with  wild  and  monstrous 
beasts,  the  Equus  Bisulcus,  or  Chinese  horse,  and  with  tigers  and  lions,  of 
a  degenerated  breed.     Roads  diverge  in  all  directions  from  this  favoured 
spot,  and  afford  an  easy  communication  with  a  free  channel  for  British 
merchandise  to  San  Antonio,  to  Chichanha,  San  Benito,  Tabasco,  and* 
even  Campeachy ;  while  throughout'  the  whole  country  the  most  stu- 
p^klous  timbers  are  abundant.    The  most  valuable  drugs,  balsams,  and 
armnatic  plants,  grow  wild ;  and  the  achiote,  amber,  copal,  dragon's 
bk>od,  mastic,  and  almacigo,  are  everywhere  to  be  gathered.' 

^*  Such  is  the  splendid  country  which  England  deserves  to  lose,  for  she 
knoweth  not  its  worth.  May  I  hope,  however,  that  my  labours  in  endea- 
vouring to  develope  the  treasures  (by  treasures  I  mean,  not  gold  and 
silver,  but  food,  raiment,  and  the  necessaries  and  convcnicncics,  and  even 


.262  History  of  the  Brithh  Cohmin. 

clegfancies  of  life)  spread  abroad  by  Nature,  for  the  welfare  of  millions, 
will  not  be  without  some  good  result  ? — pp.  422,  423. 

Every  chapter  of  this  volume  proves  to  us  the  immense  import- 
ance and  value  of  the  West  India  colonies  to  Great  Britain;  *'  they 
are,  in  fact,  the  tropical  gardens  for  the  growth  of  various  articles 
which  our  temperate  clime  will  not  produce."  The  aathor  claims 
for  them,  therefore,  that  commercial  justice  may  be  accorded 
them.  He  reserves,  however,  his  exposition  of  what  he  considers  a 
sound  colonial  policy  for  his  last  volume.  He  complains  bitterly  erf 
the  enormou9  duties  which  have  been  imposed  on  the  produce  of  our 
trans-marine  possessions.  We  have^  he  says^  with  the  idea  of  keep- 
ing up  a  mercantile  marine,  whilst  almost  shutting  the  West  Indies 
put  from  the  home  market,  forbade  their  celling  their  surplus  in  the 
markets  of  Continental  Europe  or  America;  nay,  even  from  bay- 
ing food,  and  the  necessaries  of  life,  where  the  colonists  could  readily 
obtain  them  in  exchange  for  their  sugar,  rum^  &c. 

'^We  have  been  engaged  in  upholding  a  false  system.  When  the 
British  W.  I.  colonies  were  first  established  they  had  a  free  trade  to  all 
parts  of  the  world,  and  the  result  was  the  most  rapid  strides  in  prosperity 
ever  known.  Our  exclusive  system  checked  that  prosperity— our  taxation 
within  the  present  century  completed  its  ruin.  Upwards  of  £100,000,000 
sterling  have  been  invested  in  the  British  sugar  plantations  in  the  West 
Indies — loans  of  relief  have  been  issued  from  the  British  Exchequer  to  a 
vast  amount — and  £20,000,000  sterling  have  lately  been  added  to  pur- 
chase slave  emancipation.  All  this  money,  and,  what  is  of  far  more 
worth,  all  the  gallant  blood  spilt  in  defence  of  those  possessions,  will  have 
been  expended  in  vain  by  a  perseverance  in  the  present  system.  We 
must  lower  the  duty  on  W.  I.  sugar  from  24 j.  to  12^.,  and  proportionally 
reduce  the  duties  on  £.  I.  sugars.  We  must  allow  the  W.  I.  islands  a  free 
trade  with  North  America  and  with  Continental  Europe  on  their  own 
terms; — the  colonists  must,  in  fact,  be  permitted  to  buy  food  at  the 
cheapest  rate  where  they  can  sell  sug^r  at  the  dearest  price.  If  this  be 
not  done,  the  destruction  of  all  the  property  embarked  in  the  W.  I.  islands 
is  inevitable,  and  those  colonies  will  remain  like  a  drag-chain  round  our 
necks,  instead  of  being,  as  they  would  under  the  system  recommended,  a 
source  of  happiness  and  prosperity  to  the  parent  state." — p.  434. 

We  indeed  hope  that  a  new  day  has  commenced  its  dawn  upon 
these  colonies,  not  only  as  regards  the  indefeasible  rights  of  huma- 
nity, but  the  prosperity  of  the  planters.  Sugar  is  certainly  nothing 
short  of  a  necessary  of  home  consumption,  and  three  times  of  the 
amount  now  imported,  but  for  our  restrictive  system,  would  be  used. 
And  would  the  state  revenue  not  be  augmented,  whilst  the  poor 
man  was  benefited  by  an  encouragement  to  a  greater  supply  ?  The 
author  enters  upon  a  number  of  other  matters,  on  which  he  makes 
many  observations,  where  sound  calculation  and  benevolence  are 
very  apparent;  but  we  cannot  follow  him,  for  want  of  space  allotted 
to  this  article  of  our  Journal.  He  is  not  by  any  means  a  partisan 
in  any  individual  interest;  for,  whilst  he  maintains  that  the  planters 
have  made  great  pecuniary  sacrifices  for  the  moral  and  religious  in- 


History  of  the  British  Colonies,  263 

struction  of  their  dark  brethren,  he  insists  that  many  measures 
which  he  has  pointed  out  should  immediately  be.  adopted  to  enable 
them  to  continue  their  praiseworthy  efforts.  At  the  same  time  he 
says : — 

^  It  is  no  longer  consistent  with  justice  or  sound  policy  to  continue  to 
the  West  Indies  a  monopoly  of  the  supply  of  the  home  market ;  other  tro- 
pical colonies  demand  our  attention,  and  nave  a  right  to  insist  on  equitable 
treatment  from  the  mother  country ;  besides,  wo  cripple  our  own  power 
and  resources  and  commerce  by  the  present  exclusive  protection  to 
West  India  sugar,  coffee,  and  rum,— we  impoverish  a  dense  population  at 
home,  and  (as  the  experience  of  the  past  proves)  confer  no  benefit  on  the 
colonial  agriculturists.  Let  me  implore  all  who  value  the  happiness  of 
their  fellow-subjects  in  every  clime  to  aid  in  abolishing  the  wretched 
policy  of  pitting  one  interest  against  another — the  West  Indian  against 
the  £05/ Indian;  the  Canadian  against  the  Australian;  the  European 
against  the  African ; — it  is  indeed  imperatively  necessary  that  such 
miserable  legislation  should  cease ; — England  derives  no  advantage  from  it; 
on  the  contrary,  she  materially  suffers  in  her  revenue — in  her  internal 
and  maritime  commerce — ^as  well  as  by  depriving  herself  of  free  outlets 
to  every  part  of  the  globe  for  her  unemployed  population  and  surplus , 
manufactures.  I  advocate  nothing  Utopian ;  in  the  preparation  of  this 
work  I  have  b:;en  necessitated  to  look  into  the  early  histoiy  of  the  colo- 
nies and  the  mother  country — ^and  1  invariably  found  that  it  was  owing  to 
commercial  freedom  that  the  British  West  India  Islands  became  peopled, 
cultivated,  and  enriched  ;  whenever  restrictions  were  placed  on  their  trade 
with  America,  Holland,  France,  &c.,  they  immediately  began  to  decline 
in  prosperity,  and  by  a  singular  coincidence  the  mischiefs  inflicted  by  the 
cupidity  of  man  were  frequently  followed  by  the  terrific  visitations  of  the 
elements.  What  with  the  curse  of  slavery,  the  blighting  effects  of  hurri- 
canes, and  the  far  more  destructive  influence  of  commercial  jealousy,  the 
wonder  is  how  the  West  India  colonies  have  maintained  themselves 
during  the  last  thirty  years ;  nothing  but  the  unconquerable  energy  of 
Britons  could  have  surmounted  the  ruinous  prospects  and  destruction  of 
property  which  have  been  annually  going  on,  and  which  will  progress  in 
an  accelerated  ratio  unless  the  islands  be  permitted  to  renew  their  com- 
mercial intercourse  with  Europe  and  America,  totally  unfettered  hy  any 
legal  restrictions  from  the  mother  country.  Give,  I  repeat,  the  British 
West  Indies  that  unlimited  mercantile  freedom,  for  which  their  gc'ogia- 
phical  position,  fertile  soil,  and  fine  harbours  so  eminently  qualify  them, 
and  neither  the  mother  country  nor  the  cokjnies  have  any  thing  to  fear 
for  the  future; — deny  it  them  much  longer,  and  it  were  far  better  thjt  the 
surrounding  ocean  overwhelmed  and  sunk  them  in  its  fathomless  abyss, 
rather  than  that  they  should  continue  to  drag  on  an  anxious  and  para- 
lyzed existence  fraught  with  misery  and  ruin  to  all  engaged  in  those 
once  prosperous,  but  still  highly  important  and  beautiful  Isles  of  the 
West."— pp,  455,  456. 

We  most  cordially  join  in  these  sentiments,  and  cannot  do  better 
in  closing  our  observations  than  repeat^  with  Mr.  Martin,  that  we 
must  bring  the  trade  of  our  transmarine  possessions  as  nearly  as 
possible  to  that  of  a  coasting  traffic.  Why  should  an  Englishman 
settling  in  any  part  of  the  empire  be  burdened  with    enormous 


264  The  Polynesian  Nation. 

fiscal  duties  on  the  produce  of  his  skill  and  industry,  for  the  benefit 
of  some  more  favoured  portion  of  his  fellow-subjects  ?  It  is  hoped, 
however,  that  the  present  era  of  social  liberty  is  but  the  prelude  to  a 
state  of  commercial  freedom,  when  the  rich  and  varied  products  of 
our  colonies  will  be  exempted  from  heavy  fiscal  restrictions  and 
legislative  enactments.  In  that  case  the  white  population  of  the 
West  Indies  will  be  amazingly  enlarged  by  men  of  worth,  capital, 
and  enterprize,  and  Britain  will  appear  as  appointed  by  Almighty 
Providence  to  work  out  more  than  has  ever  yet  been  done, — ^the 
salvation  of  the  human  race,  be  they  white  or  be  they  black. 


Abt.  X. —  View  of  the  Origin  and  Migrations  of  the  Polynesian  Nation. 
By  John  Dunmore  Lang,  D.  D.     London :  James  Cochrane  and  Co. 

1834. 

Thb  learned  author  of  this  volume  tells  us,  in  the  introduction  to  its 
principal  contents,  that  in  the  course  of  a  voyage  from  New  South 
Wales  to  England,  in  1830,  be  was  led  to  devote  a  few  days,  after 
crossing  the  Line,  to  an  attempt  to  ascertain  the  manner  in  which 
the  islands  of  the  South  Seas  had  been  originally  peopled,  and  to 
inquire  whether  there  was  any  affinity  between  the  languages  and 
the  institutions  and  customs  of  their  singular  inhabitants,  and  those 
of  any  other  known  division  of  the  family  of  man.  He  had  at  one 
time  purposed  to  have  subjoined  its  contents,  as  a  sort  of  appendix, 
to  his  '  Historical  and  Statistical  Account  of  New  South  Wales,' 
a  work  of  great  ability,  reviewed  by  us  a  few  months  ago;  but  on  se- 
cond  thoughts  he  was  induced  to  preserve  and  enlarge  this  essay  oa 
the  Origin  and  Migrations  of  the  Polyneasian  nation  for  a  separate 
publication  ;  and  we  can  assure  our  readers,  though  the  volume  be 
but  a  thin  one,  it  is  well  worthy  and  able  to  appear  in  this  indivi- 
dual cwacity. 

Dr.  Lang's  theory  is  that  the  South  Sea  Islanders  are  of  an  Asia- 
tic origin,  and  that  the  Indo- Americans  are  sprung  from  the  South 
Sea  Islanders.  At  first  we  were  startled  at  this  hypothesis,  so  novel 
and  bold,  nor  was  it  tiU  we  had  got  half  through  the  volume  that  we 
were  wilUng  to  allow  the  author  any  higher  credit  than  that  of 
great  ingenuity,  knowledge,  and  power  over  the  English  language, 
which  every  page  evinces.  Indeed  we  felt  assured,  that,  like  many 
eminent  Scottish  writers  and  philosophers,  he  was  building  upon  an 
incomplete  induction  of  fitcts  a  preposterous  doctrine.  As  we 
proce^ed  still  fiirther  we  found  our  sweeping  conclusion  losing 
breadth,  and  had  frequently  to  pause  and  whisper  to  ourselves  that 
the  Reverend  Doctor  was  a  clear-headed  man,  and  dextrous  in 
wielding  hard  arguments  that  we  were  not  prepared  to  meet.  At 
last,  however,  we  have  fiekirly  given  in,  and  must  confess  that  the 
result  of  the  inquiry,  as  conducted  in  this  volume,  is  equally  gratify- 
ing and  unexpected,  and  that  it  throws  a  flood  of  light  on  one  of 
the   darkest  and  most  mysterious    chapters    in    the    history    of 


The  Polynesian  Nation,  265 

man.     We  shall  name  a  few  of  the  author's  facts,  and  quote  some 
of  his  arguments. 

He  begins  by  observing  that  the  South  Sea  Islanders  exhibit  in- 
dubitable evidences  of  an  Asiatic  origin.  He  instances  the  disr 
tinction  of  caste,  the  most  ancient  and  the  most  remarkable  feature 
of  Asiatic  society,  which  prevails  to  a  great  extent  in  the  South  Sea 
Islands. 

**  In  Tahiti,  this  distinction  was  formerly  carried  to  so  ridiculous  an 
extent  in  the  case  of  the  royal  ftunily — all  the  members  of  which  were 
regarded  as  sacred  in  the  highest  Tahitian  sense  of  the  word— -that 
whatever  any  of  ^e  princes  of  the  blood  happened  to  touch  became 
sacred  also.'  If  the  king  entered  a  house,  the  owner  had  to  abandon  it 
forthwith:  If  he  walked  on  a  footpath,  it  was  death  for  a  plebeian  to 
walk  on  it  afterwards.  In  benevolent  consideration,  therefore,  of  the 
welfare  and  convenience  of  his  subjects,  his  Tahitian  Majesty,  having  no 
state-carriage,  waa  graciously  pleased  to  be  carried  on  men's  shoulders 
whenever  he. wished  to  see  the  world,  lest  he  should  otherwise  consecrate 
his  own  highways,  and  render  them  impassable  in  future  for  his  sub- 
jects. In  tibe  Friendly  Islands^  the  seveiul  castes  are  still  better  defined; 
and  the  Brahmin,  or  priestly  cast,  ranks  highest,  insomuch  that  the 
Grand  I^ma  of  these  islands---the  Tool  Tonga,  as  he  is  called — (for  to 
form  a  human  god  has  ever  been  the  highest  effort  of  superstition, 
whether  in  the  South  Sea  Islands,  in  Tartary,  or  in  Rome^  takes  pre- 
cedence even  of  the  king.  In  New  Zealand,  indeed,  the  custinction  of 
caste  does  not  prevail.  There  every  man  is  either  a  Rangatira,  i.  e.,  a 
genUeman^  who  knows  no  superior,  and  who  bows  to  no  authority ;  or 
a  miserable  slave,  who  holds,  or  who  loses,  his  life  at  the  mere  caprice 
of  his  master.  The  slave,  however,  is  not  inferior  in  birth  to  his  master ; 
he  has  only  become  inferior  through  the  fortune  of  war." — ^pp.  5—7- 

The  singular  institution  ct  Taboo,  which  is  nearly  equivalent  to 
the  Latin  word  Saeer  and  the  Greek  Anathema^  signifying  either 
sacred  or  aeeureed,  holy  or  unclean,  is  evidently  of  Asiatic  origin. 
The  rite  of  circumcision  is  practised  in  several  of  the  groups  of 
Polyneasia,  and  this  is  decidedly  an  Asiatic  ceremony.  The  South 
Sea  Islanders,  however,  are  ignorant  of  its  origin,  and  practise  it  as 
an  ancient  custom. — In  their  general  appearance  and  configuration, 
the  idols  of  the  South  Sea  Islands,  though  not  generally  worshipped, 
but  formed  for  ornament,  have  a  striking  resemblance  to  the  idols 
of  Eastern  Asia.  In  their  physical  conformation  and  general 
character,  the  natives  of  these  islands  strongly  resemble  the  Malays. 
Numerous  Asiatic  customs  are  still  discernible  in  the  South  Seas. 
But  the  evidence  afforded  by  the  Polynesian  language  is  still 
stronger. 

"  ^  Language,'  says  the  celebrated  Home  Tooke,  *  cannot  lie ;  and 
from  the  language  of  every  nation  we  may  with  certainty  coUect  its 
origin.'  *  The  similitude  and  derivation  of  languages,'  observes  Dr. 
Johnson,  *  afford  the  most  indubitable  proof  of  the  traduction  of  nations 
and  the  genealogy  of  mankind  :  they  add  physical  certainty  to  historical 
evidence ;  and  otten  supply  the  only  evidences  of  ancient  cmigratiouF, 


266  The  Polynesian  Nation, 

and  of  the  revolutions  of  ages  which  have  left  no  written  monuments 
behind  them.' 

**  The  identity  of  the  languages  spoken  in  the  different  groups  of  the 
South  Sea  Islands  wafi  observed  by  Captain  Cook  and  his  fellow-voy< 
agers;  and  the  remarkable  resemblance  between  these  languages  and 
those  of  the  Indian  Archipelago  was  also  remarked.  *  In  the  general 
character,  particular  form,  and  genius  of  the  innumerable  languages 
spoken  within  the  limits  of  the  Indian  islands,'  (according  to  Mr.  Mars- 
den,)  '  there  is  a  remarkable  resemblance,  while  all  of  them  differ  widely 
from  those  of  every  other  portion  of  the  world.  This  observation  ex- 
tends to  every  country,  from  the  liorth-west  extremity  of  Sumatra  to  the 
western  shores  of  New  Guinea ;  and  may  be  even  carried  to  Madagaacar 
on  the  west,  the  Philippines  to  the  east,  and  the  remotest  of  Cook's  dis- 
coveries to  the  south.' 

"  '  At  first,*  says  the  unfortunate  La  Perouse,  *  we  perceived  no  dif- 
ference between  the  languages  of  the  people  of  the  Navigators'  Islands 
and  that  of  the  people  of  the  Society  and  Friendly  Islands,  the  vocabu- 
laries of  which  we  had  with,  us ;  but  a  closer  examination  taught  us  that 
they  spoke  a  dialect  of  the  same  tongue.  A  fact  which  miay  tend  to 
prove  this,  and  which  confirms  the  opinion  of  the  English  respecting  the 
origin  of  these  people,  is,  that  a  young  Manillese  servant,  who  was  bom 
in  the  province  of  Tagayan,  on  the  north  of  Manilla,  understood  and 
interpreted  to  tu  most  of  their  words.  Now  it  is  known  that  the 
Tagayan,  Talgal,  and  all  the  dialects  of  the  Philippine  Islands  in  general, 
are  derived  from  the  Malay ;  and  this  language,  more  widely  spread 
than  those  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans  were,  is  common  to  the  numerous 
tribes  that  inhabit  the  islands  of  the  South  Sea.  To  me  it  appeare  de- 
monstrated that  these  different  nations  are  derived  from  Malay  colonies 
who. conquered  these  islands  at  very  remote  periods;  and  perhaps  even 
the  Chinese  and  Egyptians,  whose  antiquity  is  so  much  vaunted,  are 
moderns  compared  to  these.' " — pp,  18 — ^21. 

There  is  not  a  little  force  in  the  following  coincidence  of  one  par- 
ticular style  of  language : — 

"  There  is  one  remarkable  peculiarity,  for  instance,  in  the  habitudes  of 
thmkmg  prevalent  among  the  Indo-Chinese  nations,  which  is  also  observ- 
able among  the  Malayan  and  Polynesian  tribes,  but  which,  as  far  as  my 
own  knowledge  extends,  is  altogether  unknown  among  the  nations— 
whether  Asiatic  or  European — ^to  the  westward  of  the  Ganges.  That 
remarkable  peculiarity  consists  in  their  having  a  language  of  ceremony 
or  deference  distinct  from  the  language  of  common  life— a  peculiarity 
which,  however  repugnant  to  that  innate  freedom  of  thought  and  of 
action  which  forms  the  noblest  inheritance  of  the  western  nations 
whether  of  Pelasgic,  of  Celtic,  or  of  Teutonic  origin,  is  nevertheless  in 
perfect  accordance  with  the  general  habitudes  of  those  races  of  men, 
among  whom,  as  in  Tartary,  a  living  man  is  actually  worshipped  as  a 
God ;  while  the  sovereign,  as  in  the  Burman  empire,  styles  himself  the 
brother  of  the  Sun  and  Moon,  or  is  inaccessible,  as  in  China,  without  the 
ceremony  of  nine  previous  prostrations." — p.  36. 

It  would  seem  indeed  that  the  Indian  Archipelago  has  been  tra- 
versed from  time  immemorial  both  by  the  Chinese  and  the  Malays. 
i  he  Chmese,  it  is  well  known,  says  M.  de  Labillardiere,  received 


Tike  Polynesian  Nation,  267 

spices  from  the  Moluccas  many  ages  before  these  islands  vera 
seized  upon  by  the  Europeans ;  and  for  ages  past  the  Malays  hav6 
had  a  fishery  established  on  the  north  coast  of  New  Holland^  which 
they  visit  annually  with  a  large  fleet  of  proas^  in  search  of  a  marine 
slug,  which  they  cure  for  the  China  market.  Is  it  not  reasonable  to 
joonclude  that  the  same  adventurous  spirit  would  lead  enterprising 
individuals  of  the  Malayan  nation  to  tne  successive  discovery  of  all 
the  islands  of  the  Indian  Archipelago^  and  in  quest  of  unknown 
lands  in  the  boundless  Pacific?  The  author  gives  instances  where 
adventure  or  accident  have  carried  islanders  &r  out  of  their  usual 
course^  where  no  skilful  European  seaman  would  venture^  if  so 
inadequately  equipped. 

There  is  nice  observation  and  knowledge  in  the  following  suppo- 
sitions:— 

**  It  has  appeared  to  me,  that  the  use  of  particular  words  and  phrases  in 
the  different  dialects  of  the  South  Sea  Islands  might  throw  some  light  on 
the  past  history  of  their  respective  inhabitants,  by  indicating  the  place  or 
island  from  which  they  had  originally  come.  The  Sandwich  Islanders 
call  England  ka-heite.  It  is  the  same  word  as  Tahiti  in  the  Tahitian,  and 
Tawiti  in  the  dialect  of  New  Zealand,  and  signifies  distant  land.  Sup- 
posing, therefore,  that  the  first  inhabitants  of  Tahiti — the  principal  islaiid 
of  the  group  to  which  it  belongs — ^had  discovered  and  landed  on  that 
island  in  one  or  other  of  the  ways  I  have  described,  and  after  suffering 
unheard-of  privations  while  they  drifted  perhaps  for  weeks  in  succession 
on  the  boundless  ocean,  what  name  could  have  been  more  beautifully  and 
more  affectingly  appropriate  than  Tahiti,  the  distant  land?  It  was  so, 
indeed,  to  them ;  for  they  had  doubtless  been  long  in  finding  it,  and  they 
could  never  have  indulged  the  slightest  hope  of  revisiting  their  own. 

^  On  glancing  at  the  chart  of  the  Pacific  Ocean,  it  would  seem  probable 
that  the  first  inhabitants  of  New  Zealand  had  reached  that  island  ^m 
the  Friendly  Islands,  a  group  lying  to  the  northward  and  westward.  The 
internal  evidence  afforded  by  the  dialect  of  New  Zealand  confirms  this 
presumption,  as  it  bears  a  much  closer  resemblance  to  that  of  the 
Friendly  than  to  that  of  the  Society  Islands ;  while  the  tradition  of  the 
natives  is,  that  the  first  inhabitants  of  the  island  arrived  from  the  north- 
westward. Supposing  then  that  New  Zealand  had  been  originally  dis- 
covered and  taken  possession  of  by  a  party  that  had  sailed,  perhaps  on 
some  short  voyage,  ^om  the  island  of  Tonga,  the  principal  island  in  the 
Friendly  Island  group,  and  been  accidentally  driven  to  sea,  it  is  evident 
that,  coming  from  within  the  tropics,  there  would  be  no  word  in  their 
language  to  denote  such  a  substance  as  snow.  On  seeing  the  strange 
substance,  therefore,  for  the  first  time  after  their  arrival  in  New  Zealand, 
and  ascertaining  its  coldness  and  insipidity,  it  would  be  quite  natural  for 
them  to  exclaim,  when  sorrowfully  recollecting  the  comfortable  country 
they  had  left  for  ever,  Tonaa  diro  I  Tonga  lost  I  This  is  the  singular 
phrase,  in  the  New  Zealand  dialect,  for  snow." — pp.  65 — 67. 

The  grand  objection  against  referring  the  South  Sea  islanders  to 
an  Asiatic  origin  is  derived  from  the  supposed  uniform  prevalence 
of  the  north<eaj>t  and  south-east  trade-winds  within  the  tropics. 


268  The  Polynesian  Nation. 

'*  But  the  testimony  of  that  eminent  and  lamented  navigator.  La  Pc- 
rouse,  is  decisive  as  to  the  invalidity  of  such  an  objection.  •  Westerly 
winds,'  says  that  eminent  navigator,  *are  at  least  as  freq%ient  ss  those 
from  the  eastward,  in  the  vicinity  of  the  equator,  in  a  zone  of  seven  or 
eight  degrees  north  and  south;  and  they/  i.  e.  the  winds  in  the  equatorial 
regions,  *  are  so  variable  that  it  is  very  little  more  difficult  to  make  a 
voyage  to  the  eastward  than  to  the  westward.*^— La  Ferouse's  Voya^cSf 
chap.  25.  For  my  own  part,  the  second  time  I  crossed  the  Line  from  the 
northward,  our  vessel  lost  the  north-east  trade- wind  as  high  as  the  four- 
teenth degree  of  north  latitude ;  and  the  last  time  I  crossed  the  equator 
from  the  southward  (in  September*  1833)  we  experienced  a  south- 
westerly  ffale  of  several  days'  continuance,  after  losing  the  south-east 
trade-wind,  which  had  carried  us  as  high  as  the  sixth  degree  of  north  lati- 
tude. Nay,  I  have  been  informed  by  a  nautical  gentleman  of  experience, 
that  he  once  encountered  a  south-westerly  gale  of  twelve  days'  conti- 
nuance considerably  within  the  tropics." — ^pp.  75i  76. 

The  author  quotes  the  testimony  of  other  high  authorities  on  the 
subject  of  the  trade- winds^  and  no  doubt  justly  adds,  that  the  long 
narrow  form  of  the  canoes  of  the  South  sea  islanders  enables  theiki 
to  sail  much  closer  to  the  wind  than  European  vessels;  and  that 
their  getting  to  the  eastward  is  therefore  by  no  means  such  a  mys* 
terious  matter  as  many  have  presumed.  Many  other  arguments  are 
ably  urged  and  supported  by  evidence  of  a  strong  kind  in  support  of 
his  theory,  which  we  cannot  notice  within  our  narrow  limits.  But 
we  must  follow  him  cursorily  in  the  investigation,  which  he  carries 
to  a  much  greater  length,  which  he  projseeds  with  after^  the  fol- 
lowing preliminary  observations : — 

"  Pasquaa,  or  Easter  Island^  which  is  inhabited  by  a  branch  of  the  Poly- 
nesian nation,  is  situated  within  one  thousand  eight  hundred  miles  of  the 
continent  of  America,  biit  at  the  distance  of  not  less  than  eight  thousand 
miles  from  the  Philippines.     Are  we  not  warranted,  therefore,  to  conclude 
that  the  same  causes  that  have  evidently  operated  during  a  long  succession 
of  ages  in  carrying  individuals  of  the  Malayan  race  across  so  extensive  an 
ocean,  and  to  so  vast  a  distance  from  the  earlier  settlements  of  their 
nation — ^filling  every  soHtary  isle  in  their  trackless  course  with  a  numerous 
population — may  have  also  operated  in  carrying  other  individuals  of  that 
amphibious  nation  across  the  remaining  tract  of  ocean  to  the  coast  of 
America  ?     How  many  a  canoe  must  not  have  been  ingulphed  in  the  wide 
Pacific,  and  how  many  a  feast  of  blood  must  not  have  been  enacted  amid 
its  billowy  boundlessness ,  ere  the  solitary  isle  of  Pasquas  was  discovered 
and  settled !    The  event  of  a  battle  in  that  solitary  isle,  or  one  of  the  other 
accidents  to  which  the  rude  natives  of  an  island  in  the  South  Seas  are 
necessarily  exposed,  may  have  given  the  first  inhabitants  to  America.     In 
short,  I  conceive  there  is  abundant  reason  to  believe  that  America  was  ori- 
ginally peopled  from  the  continent  of  Asia ;  not,  as  is  generally  supposed, 
by  way  of  ^e  Aleutian  Islands,  at  the  entrance  of  Behring's  Straits,  but  by 
way  of  the  South  Sea  Islands,  and  across  the  widest  part  of  the  Pacific 
Ocean." — ^pp.  86.  86. 

The  author,  after  detailing  at  considerable  length  the  general 
grounds  of  his  hypothesis,  comes  to  particular  tests : — The  first 


'  The  Polynesian  Nation.  269 

mentioned  iSy  that  the  species  of  civilization  that  prevailed  in  Mexico 
and  Peniy  on  the  discovery  of  the  continent  of  America^  was  essen- 
tially Polynesian  in  its  aspect.  Under  this  heacj  there  is  a  great 
accumulation  of  forcible  facts^  before  which  we  cannot  avoid  yielding 
up  our  preconceived  opinions;  but  the  work  itself  must  be  resorted 
to,  ere  their  tendency  can  be  felt. 

The  second  test  is  a  comparison  between  the  Polynesians  and 
the  uncivilized  aborigines  of  America,  in  regard  to  their  manners 
and  customs.  But,  not  to  swell  our  pages  with  the  various  illus- 
trations here  adduced,  we  notice  merely  that  the  South  Sea  islanders 
prepare  an  intoxicating;  beverage  from  the  root  of  a  sort  of  wild 
pepper  called  cava.  When  they  have  a  cava  feast  the  chiefs  assem- 
ble, and  are  ranged  in  a  circular  form  around  an  immense  bowl,  in 
which  the  cava  is  to  be  prepared;  portions  of  the  root  are  then 
handed  to  young  persons,  who  wait  for  the  purpose  in  an  exterior 
ring,  and  who,  after  chewing  the  root  for  some  time,  return  th^ 
residuum  to  the  master  of  the  ceremonies,  who  deposits  it  in  thp 
bowl.  Water  is  then  poured  over  the  precious  deposit,  and  the  cava 
is  forthwith  handed  round  with  the  utmost  etiquette  to  the  ex- 
pectant guests.  The  Indo-Brazilians  and  the  aborigines  of  Guy^ 
ana  prepare  an  intoxicating  beverage,  in  a  somewhat  similar  way, 
from  the  American  plant  cassava  (the  coincidence  between  the  two 
words  and  names  is  more  than  remarkable),  which  is  masticated  for 
the  purpose  by  the  women. 

The  character  and  the  habits  of  the  Polynesians  agree  in  a  great 
many  more  pturticulars,  and  in  such  a  manner  with  those  of  the 
Indians  of  Guyana^  that  the  description  of  the  one  might  often  form 
a  part  of  a  voyage  to  the  other.  Nay,  the  Malay  cast  of  coun- 
tenance has  been  detected  among  the  Indians  of  America. 

".In.fefereooe  to  those  .of  Aeapulco,  in  the  republic  of  Mexico,  Captain 
Basil  Hall  thus  writes : — '  Their  features  and  colour  partake  somewhat  of 
tiie  Malay  character;  their  foreheads  are  broad  and  square;  their  eyes 
small*  and  not  deep-seated ;  their  cheek-bones  prominent,  and  their  heads 
covered  with  Uack  straight  hair ;  their  stature  about  the  medium  standard ; 
their  frame  compact  and  well-made.' 

**  It  may  be  worth  while  to  inform  certain  philosophers,  both  British  and 
continental,  who  are  anxious,  it  would  seem,  to  multiply  the  races  of  man- 
kind, how  these  broad  and  square  foreheads  have  been  manufactured  in  the 
course  of  ages ;  and  how  much  the  infidelity  of  modem  science  stands  in- 
debted, in  consequence  of  so  serviceable  a  manufacture,  to  the  midwives  of 
that  nursery  of  nations,  the  Indian  Archipelago.  '  The  women,'  says  Mr. 
Marsden,  to  whom  I  have  been  so  frequently  indebted,  '  have  the  prepos- 
terous custom  of  flattening  the  noses  and  compressing  the  heads  of  chil- 
dren newly  bom,  whilst  the  skull  is  yet  cartilaginous,  which  increases  their 
natural  tendency  to  that  shape.  1  could  never  trace  the  origin  of  the 
practice,  or  learn  any  other  reason  for  moulding  the  features  to  this 
uncouth  appearance,  but  that  it  was  an  improvement  of  beauty  in  their  es- 
timation. Captain  Cook  takes  notice  of  a  similar  operation  at  the  island  of 
Ulictea/"— pp.  136.  137. 


270  Thg  Polynegkm  JKrfte. 

A  third  particular  given  in  proof  of  the  identity  of  the  Polynesian 
and  the  Indo-American  divisions  of  the  family  of  man  is  their  Ian* 
guage.  Indeed  a  scholar,  whose  eye  and  ear  have  been  aooustomed 
to  trace  the  affinities  or  to  detect  the  radical  dissimilarity  of  diflb- 
rent  languages^  would  at  once  unhesitatingly  assert  that  many  words 
of  the  dialect  of  British  Guyana  were  so  many  of  the  Polynesian 
tongue;  but  we  cannot  conveniently  present  examples  stmciently 
nmnerons^  within  our  narrow  limits,  to  demonstrate  the  author's 
ooniparison.     He  observes  also  that — 

"  Many  of  the  names  of  places  in  the  equatorial  regious  of  America  are 
decidedly  Polynesian  in  their  sound  and  appearance.  Of  this  description 
are  such  words  as  Peru,  Quito  (Kito)»  Guatimala  (Katimala),  Arica,  Loa, 
Titicaca,  Panama,  Uuayna,  Chili,  Caicara,  Atahualpa,  Tiahuauacu,  Are- 
quipa  (Arekipa),  Guarohiri  (Karohiri),  Huanuco,  Lima,  Tarapaca,  Gua- 
naxato  (Kan abate). 

"  One  of  the  two  numerals  that  Baron  Humboldt  g^ves  in  a  list  of  words 
of  the  Chayma  and  Tamanack  languages  of  central  America  is  area  or 
orua,  two.  In  all  probability  it  is  merely  the  Polynesian  dua  or  mo,  with 
the  Tahitiau  prefix  or  article. 

"  The  Mexican  reverential  affix,  ixin  or  azin,  which  was  always  added 
to  the  names  of  princes,  is  in  all  likelihood  the  Rukheng  or  Indo-Chinese 
€ffix,  cuyang,  signifying /ord,  if  not  the  Chinese  word  tzin.  In  the  list  of 
Mexican  kings  who  reigoed  previous  to  the  era  of  the  Spanish  conqaest 
we  find  the  names  of  Nopal-tzin,  Ho-tzin,  Quinar-tziD  (Kina-tzin),  Caca- 
ma-tzin.  Coicuitzca-tzin,  Coanaco-tzin,  Montezuma-tzio,  Guatimo-tzi«t 
(Ka-Tima-tzin).  Several  of  these  proper  uames  have  a  remarkable  re- 
semblance to  modem  Polynesian  names ;  the  last,  especially, — the  name  of 
the  unfortunate  prince  whom  the  Spaniards  extended  over  a  fire  of  coals  to 
compel  him  to  iDfi>rm  them  where  he  had  hidden  his  treasures,-^*!?,  when 
stripped  of  its  Spanish  doublet  and  its  reverential  afilx,  a  pure  New  Zea- 
land name.*' — pp.  143,  144. 

There  is  sound  philosophy  in  what  Baron  Humboldt  says: — 

"  That  there  are  great  diversities  of  language  among  the  aborigines  of 
America  is  a  fact  that  cannot  be  denied ;  but  that  there  is  also  a  common 
principle  of  mechanism  exhibited  in  the  structure  of  all  the  aboriginal  lan- 
guages of  that  great  continent,  which  entitles  us  to  refer  them  all  to  one 
common  origin,  is  equally  undeniable.  *  In  America,'  says  Baron  Hum- 
boldt,— '  and  this  result  of  the  more  modern  researches  is  extremely  im- 
portant witli  respect  to  the  history  of  ~our  species,— from  the  country  of 
the  Esquimaux  to  the  banks  of  the  Oroonoko,  and  again  from  these  torrid 
banks  to  the  frozen  climate  of  the  Straits  of  Magellan,  mother-tongues, 
entirely  different  with  regard  to  their  roots,  have,  if  we  may  use  the  ex- 
pression, the  same  physiognomy.  Striking  analogies  of  grammatical  con- 
struction are  acknowledged,  not  only  in  the  more  perfect  languages,  as 
that  of  the  Incas,  the  Aymara,  the  Guarani,  the  Mexican,  and  the  Cora, 
but  also  in  languages  extremely  rude.  Idioms,  the  roots  of  which  do  not 
resemble  each  other  more  than  the  roots  of  the  Sclavonian  and  the  Biscayan, 
have  those  resemblances  of  internal  mechanism  which  are  found  in  the  San- 
scrit, the  Persian,  the  Greek,  and  the  German  languages.  It  is  on  account 
of  this  general  analogy  of  structure — ^it  is  because  American  languages. 


The  PoiyMesioH  Natimt.  271 

which  have  no  word  in  common,  (the  Mexican,  for  instance,  and  the 
Quichua,)  resemble  each  other  by  their  organization,  and  form  complete 
contrasts  with  the  languages  of  Latin  Europe,  that  the  Indians  of  the  mis- 
sions familiarize  themselves  more  easily  with  an  American  idiom  than 
with  that  of  the  metropolis.  In  the  forests  of  the  Oroonoko  I  have 
heard  the  rudest  Indians  speak  two  or  three  tongues.  Savages  of  different 
nations  often  communicate  their  ideas  to  each  other  by  an  idiom  which  is 
not  their  own/  " — ^pp.  148 — 150. 

The  author^  with  a  great  appearance  of  reason,  says^  that  sup- 
posing America  to  have  been  originally  peopled  by  way  of  the 
islanos  at  the  entrance  of  Behring's  Straits,  we  cannot  account  for 
the  prevalence  of  cannibalism  in  that  continent  to  a  degree  unheard 
of  in  any  other  part  of  the  habitable  globe;  but  that  the  phenome- 
non must  have  been  the  natural  and  necessary  result  of  the  dis- 
covery and  settlement  of  that  continent  in  the  manner  he  has  sup- 
posed. Presuming  for  an  instant  that  his  hypothesis  as  to  the 
peopling  of  America  to  be  correct,  he  maintains  that  from  the  very 
nature  of  things  the  first  inhabitants  must  have  b^n  ferocious  can- 
nibals when  they  landed  on  its  shores.  Cannibalism  must  have 
been  the  general  practice  of  their  forefathers  of  the  Polynesian  nation, 
in  the  course  of  those  miserable  voyages  that  led  to  the  successive 
discovery  and  settlement  of  the  myriads  of  islands  that  stud  the 
bosom  of  the  Pacific,  and  are  often  separated  from  each  other  by 
extensive  wastes  of  ocean.  The  horrible  practice,  thus  introduced 
by  necessity,  would  become  divested  of  its  horrors  by  general  usage. 

The  author  proceeds  to  consider  the  supposition  that  the  inhabit- 
ants of  the  South  Sea  Islands  have  been  derived  from  the  continent 
of  America,  which  he  says  is  inadmissible,  for  two  reasons: — 

"1.  It  implies  that  the  inhabitants  of  the  west  coast  of  America  have 
been  a  maritime  people;  which,  it  is  well  known,  they  have  never  been, 
and  which  indeed  the  very  nature  of  the  country  they  inhabit  precludes 
them  from  being. 

"  2.  It  implies  that  the  inhabitants  of  the  west  coast  of  America  must 
not  only  have  been  a  maritime  people,  but  must  have  been  in  the  habit 
of  making  voyages  of  discovery  and  adventure  into  the  Pacific  Ocean ; — 
a  supposition  utterly  preposterous;  for  although  a  canoe  belonging  to 
Easter  Island,  driven  accidentally  off  the  land  by  a  westerly  gale  of  a  few 
weeks'  continuance,  would  in  all  likeUhood  reach  the  American  continent, 
a  thousand  canoes  might  have  sailed  successively  from  Mexico  and  CaU- 
forDiar-«nay,  even  from  Chili  or  Peru  ^  on  voyages  of  discovery  into  the 
Pacific  Ocean,  before  one  of  their  number  hsui  ever  reached  that  diminu- 
tive island.  Further,  Easter  Island,  which  is  situated  in  latitude  27  deg. 
S.,  is  beyond  the  usual  limits  of  the  south-east  trade* wind,  and  conse- 
qaetttly  within  the  limits  of  the  westerly  gales  of  the  Southern  Pacific. 
Besides,  the  uniformly  prevalent  wind  along  the  west  coast  of  South  Ame- 
rica, within  a  hundred  leagues  of  the  land,  is  from  the  south,  parallel  to 
the  course  of  the  Andes.  It  is  absolutely  incredible,  therefore,  that  a 
canoe  sailing  from  Chili  or  Peru,  much  more  from  Mexico  or  Califomia, 
would  ever  be  driven  to  Easter  Island  :  on  the  contrary,  a^canoe  driven  to 
the  eastward  from  that  island  by  a  westerly  gale  would  at  length  come 


272  The  Polynesian  Nation. 

•  •  •        •         ■ 

within  the  inflttence  of  the  southerly  coast  vind ;  in  which  case  the  north- 
erly set  or  current  would  infallibly  carry  her  towards  the  isthmus  oiT 
Panama."— pp.  167—169. 

In  short,  from  the  peculiar  character  of  their  civilization,  from 
the  manners  and  ancient  customs  of  their  uncivilized  tribes,  and  from 
the  general  staructure  and  analogies  of  their  language  ,tbe  author  seem- 
ingly with  reason  concludes,  that  the  Indo- Americans  me  the  same 
people  as  the  South  Sea  Islanders,  the  Malays  of  the  Indian  Archi- 
pielago,  and  the  Indo-Chinese  nations  of  eastern  Asia ; — and  that 
the  continent  of  America  was  originally  peopled  from  the  scattered 
Isands  of  the  Pacific.  Besides  advocating  his  own  views  with 
learning,  and  in  a  manner  which  proves  his  great  research,  he  com- 
hats  the  opposing  doctrines  with  the  freedom  and  skill  of  one,  master 
of  the  subject.  Indeed  he  tells  us,  in  the  introduction,  that  the 
discussion  regards  a  branch  of  literary  and  philosophical  inquiry 
to  wliich  he  is  very  partial. 

Dr.  Lang  has  been  carried  by  his  subject  on  to  various  topics, 
which,  though  it  may  not  seem  so  at  first  sight,  are  intimately  con* 
nected  with  the  title  of  the  book.  For  instance,  it  has  been  said 
that  there  is  an  organic  defect  in  the  mental  constitution  of  the 
Indo- Americans,  involving  an  original  and  inherent  incompetency 
for  intellectual,  moral,  and  religious  improvement.  All  this  the 
author  repudiates  with  ability  and  excellent  feeling.  He  has  before 
taken  notice  of  the  influence  of  climate  on  the  human  frame,  and 
quotes  Burckhardt  in  his  travels  in  Nubia : — 

**  That  acciurate  traveller  speaks  of  a  tribe  of  Arabs,  called  the 
Shegyia  tribe,  inhabiting  the  north  of  Africa,  who  retain  the  Arab  fea- 
tures, speak  the  Arabic  language,  and  trace  their  descent  from  the 
purest  Arabian  blood,  but  who  are  nevertheless  as  black  as  negroes. 
Black  Jews  are  met  with  in  Morocco  and  in  the  East  Indies.;  and  the 
genuine  descendants  of  the  old  Portuguese  settlers  on  the  coast  of 
Coromandel  are  as  dark  as  the  Hindoos." — pp.  186,  187. 

But  as  to  inferiority  of  intellect,  and  the  opinions  of  a  Dr.  Von 
Martins  on  this  head : — 

^'  He  regards  them  as  a  radically  inferior  race — ^inferior  in  point  of 
intellect  to  the  rest  of  mankind,  and  hopelessly  irreclaimable.  This 
idea  but  ill  accords  with  the  state  of  things  among  the  ancient  Mexicans 
and  Peruvians  at  the  era  of  the  Spanish  conquest,  or  with  the  evidences 
of  a  still  higher  state  of  civilization  with  which,  on  his  own  showing,  the 
American  continent  still  abounds.  What  other  division  of  the  human 
race  would,  in  similar  circumstances,  have  attained  a  higher  level  than 
the  Indo-Americans  appear  to  have  reached  ?  Had  Europe,  for  instance, 
been  inhabited  exclusively  either  by  the  Celtic  or  the  Teutonic  race  for 
the  last  three  thousand  years;  had  that  race  been  shut  out  from  all 
communication  with  the  rest  of  mankind  ;  had  they  been  equally 
ignorant  of  letters  and  of  the  use  of  iron ;  had  their  only  domestic  ani> 
mals  been  the  dog,  the  turkey,  the  llama,  and  the  duck, — ^and  their  only 
species  of  grain,  •  Indian  corn, — I  question  whether  Europe  itself  would 
have  vied  at  this  moment  with  ancient  Mexico  and  Peru.     But  the  mani- 


The  Poiyneiian  Nation.  273 

festations  of  Indian  intellect  were  not  confined  to  central  America.  The 
Indian,  Philip,  who  headed  a  coalition  of  Indian  nations  to  expel  the 
c^olonists  of  New  England,  about  the  middle  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
was  a  hero  of  the  highest  accomplishments,  and  as  worthy  of  a  poet  as 
any  of  the  famous  warriors  of  the  Iliad :  and,  for  a  long  period  after  the 
occupation  of  their  country,  the  French  Canadians  had  abundant  experi- 
ence of  the  superior  intelligence  of  the  warlike  Iroquois.  But  the  atro- 
citTes  of  Cortez,  ^and  the  ^robberies  of  Pizarro,  the  auto-da-fe  that  was 
practised  on  the  brave  Guatimozin,  and  the  condemnation  of  his  un* 
hapjyy  subjects  to  the  Spanish  mines — these  and  a  thousand  other  acts  of 
injustice,  villany,  and  oppression,  on  the  part  of  numerous  European 
intruders,  gradiudly  broke  the  spirit  o(  the  Indo- Americans,  and  reduced 
them  to  that  state  of  intellectual  debasement  and  national  decay  which 
they  now  almost  uniformly  ^exhibit. 

**  Dr.  l>wight,  a  highly  competent  authority,  repudiates  the  idea  of 
there  being  any  organic  defect  in  the  mental  constitution  of  the  Indo- 
American,  of  such  a  kind  as  to  involve  an  original  and  inherent  incom- 
petency for  intellectual,  moral,  and  religious  improvement.  *  From 
Major-General  Gookin,'  observes  Dr.  D.,  '  a  perfectly  unexceptionable 
witness,  we  learn  with  certainty,  that,  in  the  colony  of  Massachusetts' 
Bay,  there  were  in  his  time  eleven  hundred  praying  Indians  in  fourteen 
villages.  In  the  colony  of  Plymouth,  there  were  at  the  same  time,  in- 
cluding those  of  all  ages,  not  far  from  six  thousand ;  in  Martha's  Vine- 
yard and  Nantucket,  there  were  perhaps  fifteen  hundred  more ;  when  to 
these  we  add  those  in  Connecticut,  the  number  may  be  estimated  at  not 
far  from  ten  thousand.  These  facts  perfectly  refute  the  opinion  that 
there  is  some  peculiar  difficulty- attending  the  conversion  of  Indians, 
which  is  inherent  in  their  character  or  manners.  It  cannot,  however, 
be  denied,  that  the  attempts  which  have  been  made  in  modem  times  to 
spread  the  influence  of  the  Gospel  among  them  have  in  a  great  measure 
been  unsuccessful.'  And  np  wonder  that  they  should;  for  the  inter- 
cooree  of  Europeans  with  the  Indo- Americans,  even  in  North  America, 
bas  too  frequently  been  one  of  oppression  and  spoliation  to  the  Indian, 
even  when  no  such  result  was  either  wished  for  or  intended.  The 
march  of  European  civilization  in  that  continent  has  been  a  march  in 
which  the  Indian  has  been  trodden  down  like  the  leaves  of  his  own 
gloomy  forest."r-pp.  187—190. 

Another  matter  of  discussion  with  the  author  regards  the  pe- 
riod at  which  America  was  originaUy  discovered  ;  sathat  our  readers* 
will  p^ceive  how  extensive  becomes  the  subject  as  handled  in  this 
volume. 

"  In  regard  to  the  period  at  which  the  continent  of  America  ^vas  ori- 
ginally discovered  by  some  Heaven-directed  wanderers  of  the  Polynesian 
nation,  it  is  evident  that  a  long  series  of  ages  niust  have  rolled  over  the 
beads  of  its  aboriginal  natioas  ere  sach  a  state  of  things  as  America  exLi- 
bited  at  the  eia  of  the  Spanish  oonqaest,  in  regard  to  the  wide  dispersion 
of  its  Indian  population,  could  possibly  have  been  arrived  at.  It  follows, 
therefore^  that  even  on  this  ground  alone,  independently  of  every  other  con- 
sideration, we  must  utterly  reject  the  crude  and  irrational  hypothesis  of 
those  fanciful  philosophers  who  derive  the  Indo-American  race  either  from 
a  colony  of  shipwrecked  Britons  of  the  tenth  or  eleventh  century,  or  from 

VOL.  III.  (1834.)  NO.  II.  u 


274  The  Polynesian  ffation. 

a  tribe  of  Tartars  driven  eastward  ocross  Behring's  Stnits  by  the  Aleout- 
ski  Islands,  duriug  the  tyranny  of  Zcngis  Khan ;  the  state  of  things  exhi- 
bited by  the  Indian  nations  and  the  Indian*  languages  of  America,  On  the 
d.  SCO  very  of  that  continent  by  Europeans,  being  altogether  irreconcileable 
with  the  supposition  of  so  recent  an  origin.  America  waB  undoabtedly 
peopled  many  ages  before  Julius  Csssar  landed  in' Britain  ;  and  the  colossal 
structures  of  his  forefaihers,  that  still  excite  the  wonder  of  the  wandering 
Indian  of  Peru,  were  ift  all  likelihood  in  ruins  long  before  the  great-grand- 
father of  the  Tartar  conqueror  was  born." — ^pp.  194 — 196. 

The  author  admits  the  impossibility  of  fixing  the  date  of  the  dis- 
covery of  America  with  certainty,  but  thinks  an  approach  may  be 
made  not  very  distant  from  the  truth  on  the  subject :  that  though 
the  evidence  be  scanty  in  its  amount,  it  is  definite  in  its  announce- 
ment; and  as  little  likely  to  mislead  as  the  records  of  ancient 
eclipses.  This  is  a  ground  soi;^ewhat  stronger  than  we  can  aUow 
the  author  to  have  establislieil,  notwithstanding  his  research  and 
facts,  for  ingenuity  alone  is  not  enough.  We  may  as  well  here  also 
give  it  as  our  opinion,  that  the  Doctor  is  apt,  as  soon  as  he  becomes 
convinced  himself,  to  treat  with  severity  the  opposing  convictions 
of  others,  and  we  dare  say  would  have  very  little  patience  with  an 
antagonist  on  religious  points.  But  to  return  to  the  matter  before 
us,  respecting  which,  even  to  say  the  most,  it  would  not  be  safe 
for  a  weak  hand  to  defy  the  author ;  he  remarks,  that  the  first  source 
to  be  sought  after  is  the  Polynesian  language.  In  tracing  the 
affinities  of  the  Malayan  and  Polynesian  tongues  he  has  already 
attempted  to  shew  that  there  are  two  epochs  in  the  history  of  the 
former,  to  which  our  attention  ought  to  be  especially  turned.  The 
first  is  the  epoch  of  the  Sanscrit,  the  second  of  the  Arabic  infii- 
sion. 

"  Of  the  Arabic,  or  more  recent  infusion,  the  Polynesian  language  ex- 
hibits no  trace  whatever.  -We  are  therefore  warranted  to  conclude,  that  the 
stream  of  emigration  had  ceased  to  flow  from  the  Indian  Archipelago  to- 
wards the  continent  of  America  long  before  the  era  of  Mahomet,  or  tiie 
rise  and  prevalence  of  the  Saracen  power. 

"  Of  the  Sanscrit,  or  more  ancient  infusion,  which  has  even  changed 
the  aspect  and  character  of  the  ancient  Malayan  language,  its  Polynesian 
"  sister,  or  rather  daughter,  exhibits  no  tincture  whatever.  It  follows,  there- 
fore, that  the  stream  of  emigration,  which  was  destined  to  people  the 
South  8ea  Islands  and  the  continent  of  America,  must  have  been  flowing 
from  the  Indian  Archipelago  towards  that  distant  continent  long  before  the 
ancient  Sanscrit  language  was  spoken  in  the  Indian  isles.  But  that  vene- 
rable language,  like  the  Latin  and  Greek  tongues  in  Europe,  has  been  a 
dead  language  in  India  for  many  centuries.  It  must  have  been  a  living 
language,  however,  at  the  period  when  a  portion  of  its  substance  was  im- 
bedded into  the  Malayan  tongue—  a  period,  we  have  reason  to  believe, 
long  anterior  to  the  Christian  era.  But  before  that  period  had  arrived,  the 
forefathers  of  the  present  Polynesians  must  have  quitted  the  Indian  Archi- 
pelago, and  individuals  of  their  number  may  perhaps  have  reached  the  &r- 
distant  American  land.*' — pp.  196 — 198. 


Tfie  Polynesian  Nation.  275 

He  next  states  that  the  religion  of  the  Polynesians  and  the  Indo- 
Americans  indicates  a  remote  antiquity.  The  idea  that  God  is  a 
spirit  invisible  to  men  is  still  common  to  both  of  these  divisions  of^ 
the  human  family,  which  the  author  thinks  must  have  been  derived 
from  the  patriarchal  religioA  taught  by  Noah  and  his  immediate 
posterity ;  and  he  adds,  "  but  was  so  speedily  forgotten,  or  debased 
by  the  great  majority  of  the  tribes  of  men."  But  we  would  ask, 
how  came  tribes,  who  are  otherwise  debased,  to  preserve  more  purely 
an  idea  of  this  kind  than  more  intellectual  nations  ?  We  rather 
think  that  the  attributes  which  these  South  Sea  and  American 
tribes  conceive  to  belong  to  God,  are  as  gross  and  fidse  as  the  belief 
of  those  who  think  that  a  block  of  wood  or  stone  becomes  the 
receptacliB  of  Deity;  and  that,  as  compared  with  the  religion  of 
Noah,  the  one  is  as  bad  as  the  other.  But  the  author  has,  what 
we  consider,  better  grounds  to  go  upon,  when  maintaining  the  high 
antiquity  of  the  people  in  question : — 

*'  The  form  of  the  Polynesian  and  Indo- American  temples  refers  us  also 
to  a  remote  antiquity,  lliey  were  merely  square  spaces  enclosed  with 
massive  walls,  but  vrithout  roofs.  Such,  also,  was  the  form  of  the  most 
ancient  Egyptian  temples.  In  regard  to  the  bearing  of  this  circumstance 
on  our  present  inquiry,  it  is  observed  by  Mr.  Mitford,  in  his  '  History  of 
Greece/  that  the  antiquity  of  the  writings  of  Homer  may  be  inferred  from 
his  sTlence  on  the  subject  of  temples  and  image- worship.  It  would  seem, 
however,  that  they  were  both  equally  unknown  to  the  ancient  South  Sea 
Islanders  and  the  Indo- Americans,  although  a  species  of  image- worship 
has  undoubtedly  prevailed,  in  later  times,  in  some  of  the  groups  of  islands. 
The  same  inference,  therefore,  is  as  legitimately  deducible  in  the  latter 
case  as  in  the  former. 

"  Tlie  horrible  practice  of  offering  human  sacrifices  (which  I  have  al- 
ready shown  has  prevailed  extensively  among  the  Indo- Americans  as  well 
as  among  the  Polynesians)  appears  also  to  be  indicative  of  an  ancient  origin. 
Tacitus  informs  us  that  this  practice  was  in  use  among  a  tribe  <^the  ancient 
Germans  ;  its.  prevalence  amcmg  the  ancient  Celts ,  under  the  reign  of  the 
Druids,  is  matter  of  notoriety.  The  question  of  the  king  of  Moab, '  Shall 
I  give  ^y  first«bom  for  my  transgression,  the  fruit  of  my  body  for  the  sin  , 
oi  my  soul  ?'  and  the  whole  hecatombs  of  victims  that  were  offered  up  in 
Sicily  after  the  battle  T>f  Himera  by  the  Carthaginian  general,  Hannibal  the 
elder,  to  tlie  manes  of  his  grandfather  Hamilcar,  who  had  been  defeated 
and  slain  by  tiie  Sicilians  under  Gel  on  about  fifty  years  before,  attest  its 
frequency  among  the  ancient  Phoenicians ;  while  the  story  of  Iphigenia 
perhaps  indicates  its  prevalence  among  the  ancient  Pelasgi  in  the  isles  of 
Creece.  '  But  these,'  to  use  the  Scripture  phrase,  '  are  ancient  things.* " — 
pp.  199—201. 

We  must  draw  to  a  cloee  our  notice  of  this  talented  and  re- 
markably interesting  volume,  leaving  out  the  most  distant  reference 
to  as  many  striking  circumstances  and  views  as  any  we  have 
ionched.  The  following  principles  for  regulating  such  researches 
as  the  {iresent  are  worthy  of  much  attention :— - 

"  Tliese  indications  of  remote  antiquity  are  borne  out  and  corroborated 
in  a  remarkable  manner  by  the  style  and  character  of  those  remains  of 


u2 


776  The  Polynesian  Nat%(^. 

ancient  Polynesian,  as  v^ell  as  of  ancient  Indo-American,  architecture, 
\^hich  have  hitherto  excited  the  wonder  and  mocked  the  ingenuity  of  the 
ahlest  speculators.  These  xemains  consist  chiefly  of  the  ruins  of  ancient 
temples,  pyramids/ and  tumuli ;  the  chief  and  the  most  remarkable  charac- 
teristics of  which  are  the  magnitude  of  their  dimensions,  and  the  massive- 
ness  of  their  architecture,  compared  with  those  of  the  ephemeral  erections 
of  modem  times,  and  especially  with  those  of  the  erections  of  the  more 
recent  aboriginal  inhabitants  of  America,  and  of  the  South  Sea  Islands. 
Now,  it  appears  to  me,  that  just  as  an  architect,  who  surveys  the  ruin  of 
some  ancient  building  for  the  first  time,  can  at  once  tell  the  age  or  period 
to  which  its  erection  is  to  be  assigned,  merely  from  the  style  of  its  archi- 
tecture, and  can  pronounce  it  unhesitatingly  either  a  Celtic,  or  a  Saxon, 
or  a  Norman  erection, — there  is  a  sort  of  internal  evidence  afforded  by 
these  most  interesting  remains  of  Polynesian  and  Indo- American  civiliza- 
tion, which  can  enable  an  attentive  observer  to  ascertain,  with  a  tolerable 
degree  of  precision,  the  age  or  period  in  the  past  history  of  man,  to  which 
their  erection  may  be  referred.  In  short,  I  concehre  that  the  ruins  in 
question  afford  us  a  means  of  ascertaining  the  period  at  which  the  fore^ 
fathers  of  the  modem  Poljmesian  and  Indo- American  races  originally  took 
their  departure  from  the  Indian  Archipelago." — ^pp.  203,  204. 

Following  up  these  principles^  the  author  endeavours  to  show, 
taking  the  histor)'  found  in  the  Bible  of  the  antediluvian  and  post- 
diluvian ages  to  help  him  out,  that  the  structure  of  the  ^tupeadons 
Egyptian  monuments,  which  have  hitherto  defied  the  ravages  of 
time,  were  formed  on  the  antediluvian  model — ^the  model  of  a  world 
in  which  pride  was  enormous,  and  the  life  of  man  a  thousand  years. 
If  so,  then,  whenever  we  find  monuments  of  a  similar  character,  we 
may  be  assured  that  they  were  the  work  of  a  people  whose  civiliza- 
tion was  derived  immediately  firom  the  same  primitive  source : — 

"  The  existence,  therefore,'  of  remains  of  ancient  buildings  in  Ame- 
rica, of  a  style  and  character  analogous  to  those  of  ancient  Egypt,  (to 
which,  I  have  already  remarked,  there  is  something  similar  even  in  the 
South  Sea  Islands,  and  in  some  of  the  islands  of  the  Indian  Archipelago,) 
affords  a  presumption  that  the  people  by  whom  these  buildings  were 
erected  had  derived  their  knowledge  of  the  arts  and  sciences  from  those 
primitive  times  in  which  the  impression  of  antediluvian  civilization 
still  remained  visible  on  the  intellect  of  man.  In  short,  there  is  reason 
to  believe,  that  the  forefathers  of  the  great  Malayan  nation  had  arrived 
ai^d  settled  in  Eastern  Asia,  and  in  the  isles  adjacent,  at  a  period  coeval 
with  the  origin  and  establishment  of  the  Egyptian  empire  m  the  west ; 
and  that  the  Indian  Archipelago  and  the  Western  Pacific  were  traversed 
in  all  directions  by  the  beautifully  carved  galleys  of  that  maritime  people, 
long  before  Agamemnon  and  his  brother  chiefs  had  conducted  their 
hordes  of  semi-barbarous  Greeks  to  the  siege  and  pillage  of  Troy." — 
p.  209, 210. 

The  author,  from  these,  and  other  arguments,  as  well  as  fiftoto,  ad- 
duced, concludes  that  the  religious  worship  and  the  religious  edi- 
fices of  the  Polynesian  and  Indb- American  tribes  were  an  exact 
transcript  of  the  worship  and  the  edifices  of  the  earliest  and  the  most 
celebrated  of  the  postdeluvian  nations.     He  goes  to  Asia  and  to 


Tales  for  ths  British  People.  277 

China  for  his  support  to  his  hypothesis,  and  quotes  Humboldt,  who 
has  arrived  at  a  similar  conclusion  with  respect  to  America,  though 
without  reference  to  their  Polynesian  origin. 

"  '  It  cannot  be  doubted/  says  that  eminent  writer,  '  that  the  greater 
part  of  the  nations  of  America  belong  to  a  race  of  men,  who,  isolated  ever 
since  the  infiEuicy  of  the  world  from  the  rest  of  mankind,  exhibit  in  the 
nature  and  diversity  of  language,  in  their  features  and  conformation  of 
their  skull,  incontestible  proofs  of  an  early  and  complete  separation.*  '  I 
think  I  discover  in  the  mythology  of  the  Americans,  in  the  style  of  their 
paintiugs,  in  their  languages,  and  especially  in  their  external  conforma- 
tion, the  descendants  of  a  race  of  men,  which,  early  separated  from  the 
rest  of  mankind,  has-  followed  for  a  lengthened  series  of  ages  a  peculiar 
road  in  the  unfolding  of  its  intellectual  faculties,  and  in  its  tendency  to- 
wards civilization.'" — pp.  225,  226. 

On  the  great  question  which  also  arises  out  of  the  foregoing  subject, 
— ^how  are  the  Polynesians  and  Indo- Americans  to  be  civilized  ?  the 
author  earnestly  maintains  that  the  introductionof  Christianity  is  the 
least  and  surest  method ;  and  not  that  men  must  first  be  enlightened 
and  civilized  before  they  can  be  christianized.  It  must  be  con- 
fessed indeed,  by  every  one  that  follows  the  plain  declarations  of 
Scripture,  that  the  author^s  doctrine  is  sound ;  but,  besides,  the 
«real  state  of  the'fects  in  the  history  of  modem  missions  leads  to 
the  saibe  conclusion. 

We  must  now  bid  adieu  to  Dr.  Lang,  but  it  would  be  with  sor- 
row did  we  believe  it  was  to  be  for  the  last  time.  Of  this,  however, 
we  have  little  dread,  should  his  health  and  life  be  spared,  for  he 
seems  not  merely  to  be  a  ready,  but  an  indefatigable  labourer, 
losing  none  of  his  days  in  idleness,  whether  upon  land  or  sea.  We 
not  only  learn  from  him,  that  this  volume  was  planned  and  princi- 
pally composed  in  the  course  of  a  voyage  from  New  South  Wales  to 
England  in  1830 ;  but  that  in  1833,  during  another  vo^^age,  he  drew 
iip  his  much  larger  work  on  New  South  Wales,  which  har  been 
some  time  before  the  public.  The  only  time  that  he  has  been  able, 
as  he  teUs  us,  to  devote  to  literary  labour  for  several  years  past,  has 
been  the  time  [passed  on  ship-board — either  amid  storms  and  ice 
bergs  in  the  high  latitudes  of  the  southern  hemisphere,  or  beneath 
vertical  suns  within  the  tropics, — where  the  only  book  to  be  had, 
in  addition  to  the  few  odd  volumes  in  the  corner  of  one's  own  trunk, 
nte  the  stars  of  heaven  by  night,  or  the  flying-fish  and  the  dolphin 
by  day.  Another  of  these  long  voyages,  we  have  no  doubt,  will 
be  no  less  worthily  occupied  by  him,  which,  if  our  voice  is  to  be  list- 
ened to,  we  hope  may  soon  be  undertaken. 


AaT.  XIII. — Tales  for  the  British  People,  fiy  Candiua  London:   Ridgway 

and  Son.     1834. 

Listen,  ye  British  people,  to  a  tale  from  the  Emerald  Isle !  and 
call  not  the  passages  that  we  are  to  (juote  from  ihi^  precious  volume 
extravagant   or  exaggerated,    indelicate  or    indecent,   irreverent, 


278  Tales  for  the  British  People. 

false,  or  furious.  For  if  you  do,  it  is  because  you  prefer  facts  to 
fancy,  arguments  to  unmeasured  assertions,  and  common  sense  to 
unintelligible  bombast.  It  will  be  because  you  know  not  what  illus- 
trious patron's  countenance  has  been  sought,  or  who  the  speaker  is. 
But  let  us  advertise  you  of  both.  There  is  a  dedication— "To  the 
Man  of  All  People ! ! !  Daniel  O'ConneU,  Esq.  M.P.  &c  .&c.  &c." 
who  is  described  as  an  intrepid  champion,  the  uncoirupt,  and  in- 
corruptible, the  only  one  in  the  brilliant  galaxy  of  those  patriots 
that  illume  the  realm  or  the  age  we  live  in  worthy  to  be  named. 
The  dedicator  is  Lady  Candida,  a  strapper  we  doubt  not,  if  dressed 
in  female  attire,  probably  as  stout  and  as  tall  as  the  Man  of  All 
People,    Now,  Britons,  that  ye  understand  these  things  ve  are  pre- 

{)ared  to  learn  more.  Nor  is  there  any  lack  of  the  most  formal  pre- 
iminary  pains  to  treat  you  well  by  Lady  Candida.  For  there  is 
a  plentiful  table  of  contents,  pointing  out  what  excellent  things  are 
to  follow ;  a  kindness  of  an  especial  kind,  for  which  we  Reviewers 
cannot  be  sufficiently  grateful.  There  is  next  a  preface,  which  can 
only  be  done  justice  to  by  allowing  it  to  speak  for  itself;  a  porti<Hi 
therefore  must  be  presented. 

*'  To  probe  and  display  the  moral  character,  in  a  metropolis  where  open 
and  flagrant  delinquency  abounds  in  .Uie  '  high  places/  calling  aloud  lor 
castigation  and  reform,  is  ever  in  its  own  nature  a  task  of  hazard  and  of 
difiiculty;  The  ermined  partizan,  the  lawn-sleeved  tartuffe,  the  mitred 
sensualist,  the  biblical  matron,  and  the  sly  saintly  stale  maid ;  in  a  word, 
imposture,  hypoccisy,  ostentation,  pride  and  arrogance,  all  the  inseparable 
satellites  of  conscious  guilt :  all  the  sons  and  daughters  and  disciples  of 
guile  and  corruption*— all,  all  the  ungodly  host  wiU  take  the  alarm,  and 
the  tempest  of  their  mania  must  be  encountered  :  a  risk  fraught  with  ter- 
rible results :  and  to  invite  and  dare  it  for  the  good  of  humanity  and  the 
love  of  country,  must  argue  somewhat  of  the  courage  and  devotion  of  a 
Decius. 

*'  Yet  all  burry  and  briary  as  the  field  around  us  is,  all  waste  and  inhos- 
pitable as  it  appears ;  still  at  intervals,  few  and  far  between,  ane  to  be 
seen  some  green  and  fragrant  8])ot8  for  the  weary  traveller  to  repose,  and 
relieve  his  mind  with  the  cheering  reflection,  that  all  is  not  lost, — that 
much  may  be  recovered  and  reclaimed,  and  that  the  bane  of  contamina- 
tion is  not  universal. 

"  He  will  be  delighted  to  perceive,  in  contrast  with  the  vicious  and  the 
false,  some  true  ones,  rare  ones,  in  the  panoply  of  virtue  and  integrity, 
scorning  alike  the  flatteries  and  frowns  of  corruption  and  its  votaries.'**-^ 
pp.  xi.  xii. 

In  due  order  there  follows  an  introduction,  in  which,  the  march 
of  intellect,  the  double  hooded  hypocrites  whose  foul  hands  sully  the 
gospel  on  Sunday — thrones  and  sceptres  crumbled  to  dust,  monarchs 
and  potentates  whom  a  breath  has  mad^, — the  mighty  and  the 
humble  are  all  huddled  together.  The  people  who  give,  and  will 
take  away,  the  people  who  create,  will  chasten  and  do  wonders  with 
the  tyrants.  But  what  is  to  be  done  with  the  stain,  one  hideous 
eye-sore  on  the  fair  face  of  the  recipient  Amora,  the  arch-enemy  of 


/ 


Tales  for  the  BriUsh  People .  279 

man  ?  Not  the  devil,  but  the  Russian  monster.  This  is  what 
puzzles  Candida,  therefore  she  closes  the  introduction  with  latin, 
and  goes  on  to  another  piece  of  preliminary  etiquette,  and  that  is,  to 
frame  a  suitable  address  to  the  British  people,  of  which  these  are  the 
two  first  sentences,  somewhat  unusual  as  respects  grammatical  and 
elegant  instruction  ;  on  this  side  of  the  channel  Dear  brethren,  the 
following  sheets  are  the  production  of  one  of  your  fellow-subjects, 
for  the  common  benefit  of  all.  That  it  emanates  from  the  Emerald 
Isle,  it  is  hoped,  will  not  diminish  its  merits  with  you,  for  it  advo- 
cates your  rights  and  privileges,  as  much  as  those  of  the  air-suffer- 
ing Irish  themselves.  These  sheets  that  thus  emenates  and  advo- 
eatej  your  rights,  good  people,  that  have  thus  been  dedicated,  pre- 
faced, introduced,  and  addressed,  we  must  now  peruse  and  borrow 
from.  And  all  this,  we  perceive  may  be  done  without  much  delay ; 
for  every  thing  in  them,  is  so  uncommonly  good  of  its  kind,  that  we 
have  but  to  put  forth  our  hand  and  extract  the  rarest  and  richest 
morsels.  Here  is  a  woeful  tale ;  it  is  of  a  hapless,  though  indepen- 
dent, accomplished,  christian  young  English  gentleman,  of  fair  Lou- 
don town,  whose  name  was  Saul,  and  who  having  learned  that 
Rose,  his  love,  is  no  more,  will  not  be  comforted. 

"  The  lot  of  poor  Saul  was  now  miserable,  all  that  was  dearer  to  him 
than  his  own  dear  self  was  now  gone.  His  heart  and  8oul,  as  if  buried  in 
the  same  tomb  with  his  Rose,  completely  deserted  him ;  the  world  to  him 
was  a  blank  without  her.  She  was  his  theme  by  day,  his  dream  by  night, 
and  her  memory  wa&  ever  hovering  round  his  imagination.  Thousands 
around  him,  he  was  alone.  In  the  gay  merry  circle*  he  was  absorbed  in 
silence  and  in  sorrow.  Oft  in  a  sweetly  plaintive  tone,  while  the  big 
rouiid  tear  trickled  down  his  pallid  cheek,  and  the  sigh  and  broken  accents 
BfK>ke  his  inward  agony,  was  he  heard  involuntarily  to  exclaim — '  Hose. 
Rose !  Where  are  you  ?  Why  have  you  deserted  me  ?  Alas !  Alas !  why 
am  I  permitted  to  survive  you  ?  What  have  1  done  to  merit  this  infliction  ? 
O  Rose!  Rose!  My  moss  Rose,  my  Rose-bud :  so  sweet,  so  fragrant,  so 
delicious  to  the  sight  and  touch !  What  will  -become  of  me  ?  A  mere 
moving  death  alive :  reft  of  sensibility :  indifferent  to  all  that  passes  around 
me.  You,  my  first,  my  early  love,  have  deserted  me ;  my  dearest  affec- 
tions are  with  you :  hold  them,  cherish  them  in  the  tomb,  till  we  meet 
again  inseparable,  in  another  and  better  world ;  yes,  sweet  Rose,  we  shall 
meet  in  heaven ;  which  to  me,  would  not  be  a  heaven  without  you." — ^p.  4. 

This  heart-stricken,  ill-used  young  man,  repairs  to  Dublin,  that 
his  brooding  sorrows  may  be  diverted,  and  falls  in  with  various 
classes  of  society,,  whose  manners  he  studies,  and  whose  conversa- 
tion he  reports.  The  disconsolate  youth,  or  rather  Candida,  has 
much  to  tell  about  the  scandal-lovmg  character  of  the  gentry  of 
Dublin.  In  the  following  extract  we  give  part  of  a  dialogue,  whi 
was  meant  for  wit  we  suppose. 

'*  *  They  say,  indeed,*  said  the  lady,  *  very  queer  things  about  the  mat- 
ter.' •  But/  rejoined  the  old  gentleman.  *  They  say,  is  bad  authority  for 
scandalous  reports.'  '  I  beg  your  pardon/  interrupted  a  bilious  Governess, 
with  particular  emphasis,  laying  by  her  netting  and  sipping  her  tea ;  the 


280  Taksfor  the  British  People. 

expression  *  they  say !'  comes  under  the  plural  article  in  our  language, 
and,  if  I  mistake  not,  means  many,  that  is  to  say,  more  than  one;  how* 
ever,  it  may  be  understood  in  an  extensive  sense,  and ^  according  to  a 
common  observation,  what  every  body  says  must  be  true.' 

"  '  Admirable  logician,'  said  the  old  gentleman,  '  you  brandish  induc- 
tion famously.  I  regret  the  mistake  that  made  you  for  petticoats,  instead 
of  many  a  numscull  who  wears  breeches.'  *  Breeches !'  exclaimed  an  old 
maid  sitting  at  the  window,  'breeches!  fie,  sir,  unmentionables  if  you 
please^  before  ladies.'  At  this  proof  of  modesty,  the  old  gentleman 
shrugged  and  smiled,  and  regaled  his  olfactories ;  1  also  took  a  pinch." — 
p.  20. 

The  words,  plural  article,  remind  us  of  a  long  paragraplt  on 
the  parts  of  Speech  in  Grammar,  somewhat  further  on,  which  might 
have  been  highly  instructive  to  the  British  people,  and  therefore  de- 
serving to  be  quoted  by  us,  a  duty  which  we  certainly  should  not 
have  shrunk  from  performing,  had  it  not  been  that  it  is  so  full  of 
double  meanings  and  obscenity,  that  we  must  hope  it  will  never  be 
read  by  another  person  after  us,  unless  in  Candida^s  coterie. 

Where  Saul,  the  disconsolate,  lodged,  there  also  dwelt — 

'*  A  gay  dashing  collegian,  one  of  the  inmates,  who  had  made  deep  im- 
pressions on  the  soft,  sensitive  heart  of  a  sighing  sentimental  governed, 
was  rapturously  extolling  the  charms  of  an  absent  fair  one,  who  had  com- 
pletely monopolized  to  herself  his  own  poor  heart.  In  his  raptures  he 
exclaimed, — *  Qh !  by  Jove  !  she  is  an  angel  to  follow !'  Here  the  bile  of 
the  governess  swelled  and  curdled :  she  shouted,  *  and  a  devil  to  meet.*  '  No, 
no,'  said  the  bewitching  beau,  '  an  angel !  I  say,  angel ! '  '  Ay,  a  fieJlen 
angel,'  rejoined  the  governess.  '  By  all  that's  lovely,  bewitching,  fsaci- 
nating,  enchanting,  divine  !  she  is  an  angel,  a  goddess,  a  divinity !  Heaven 
in  her  face  !    In  every  movement  majesty  and  love.     I  saw  her  chaiming, 

but '     *  I  insist,'  said  the  governess,  '  she  is    no  beauty,  she  has 

no  animation,  she  squints,  has  a  pug  nose,  and  a  mouth  firom  ear  to  ear; 
and  you.  Sir,  are  a  wretch,  without  taste  or  sympathy.' 

"  '  All  in  my  eye,  and  Betty  Martin,'  said  the  collegian.  '  Envy  !  envy ! 
envy ! '  '  Envy,  indeed  !'  retorted  the  governess.  *  Yes,'  continued  he."— • 
pp.  26,  27. 

And  so  should  we  have  continued  to  extract  a  few 'lines  more  of 
this  amazing  effort  of  exquisitely  seasoned  strife  of  wit  and  repartee^ 
but  that  delicacy  forbids^  and  never  shdl  we  wittingly  pollute  our 
pages  with  impurity  of  any  kind. 
Candida  tells  us,  of  the  British  nation,  that, '  the  consummation  of 
learning  is  to  think  well  and  speak  well,'  and  of  all  the  topics 
handled  by  this  right  speaker  and  thinker,  whose  volume  we  are 
now  upon,  there  are  none  so  frequently  and  violently  treated  as  the 
persons  and  the  objects  referred  to  in  the  following  extracts.  They 
purport  to  be  the  words  of  an  old  broken-down  tradesman  of  the 
town,  whom  comfortless  cockney  Saul,  he  whom  death  is  supposed 
to  have  used  so  scurvily,  in  taking  away  his  Rose,  his  moss  Rose,  his 
Rose-bud,  frequently  meets  ;  the  said  wasted  tradesman  becoming 
the  silly  youth's  mentor,  at  the  rate  of  a  crown-piece  for  each  lee- 


Tale$fifr  th»Briii$h  Pe^U.  281 

iure.     But,  reader^  behold  how  the  persona  who  dare  to  encourage^ 
the  apread  of  Bibles  in  the.  Emerald  Isle  is  treated. 

"  '  Yes,  Sir/  said  he ;  '  the  Irish  Hblicals  have  a  long  and  heavy  acconnt 
to  settle  with  Ireland,  with  humanity,  and  the  Christian  religion.  They 
have  uprooted  society,  aod  destroyed  the  spiritual  repose  of  our  people ; 
they  have  extinguished  the  charities  of  human  nature ;  armed  man  against 
man ;  severed  the  bonds  of  the  dearest  relations ;  and  flung  the  torch  of 
discord  into  the  most  peaceful  and  affectionate  families:  Biblicism  is  the 
greatest  curse  that  ever  afflicted  Ireland :  a  refinement  of  all  the  impious 
schemes  ever  devised  by  her  worst  eneinies,  to  vex,  corrupt,  and  divide 
her.  Sir,  I  never  see  a  vagrant  biblical  but  a  horrible,  association  of  ideas 
haunts  me.  Methinks  I  perceive  some  evil  genius  ;  some  fiend  or  beast  of 
prey,  invading,  devouring,  and  dispersing  the  peaceful  flocks.  The  mon- 
ster reminds  me  of  the  poet's  Aleoto — 

*<  '  The  feU  Fury  from  the  dire  abodes.'  " 

Yes,  Sir,  the  biblical  is  a  fury  at  war  with  the  happiness  of  man:  he  dis- 
turbs his  conscience;  obtrudes  on  his  affairs;  and  the  asylum  of  the 
modest  and  peaceful  cottage  is  not  safe  from  the  cloven  foot  of  the  biblical. 
He  sheds  the  seeds  of  discord  wherever  he  goes ;  and  creates  and  inflames 
the  worst  passions.  With  knavery  and  impudence  going  before  him, 
ignorance  and  hypocrisy  attending  his  steps,  he  commits  the  grossest  enor- 
mities, which  he  vainly  endeavours  to  hide  under  the  tattered  and  greasy 
gause  of  a  spurious  affectation  of  religion  and  piety,  which  the  creature, 
without  renlorse  or  shame,  wilfuDy  violates  in  every  thought,  word,  and 
deed."— pp.  38,  39. 

This  elegant  satire,  this  mavly  reproving,  continues  for  pages 
together,  nor  even  for  many  pages  is  allowed  to  be  silent.  That 
vile  book,  the  Bible  too,  comes  in  for  a  share  of  this  polished  vitu- 
peration. ^ 

"  The  biblicals  are  the  arch  enemies  of  thrones,  and  of  the  religion  and 
repose  of  nations.  The  throne,  the  church,  and  the  institutions  of  these 
realms,  will  do  well  to  watch  the  Irish  biblicals :  whose  acts  directly  tend 
to  rebellion,  revolution,  and  the  utter  disorganization  of  the  social  system. 
Who  insist,^  in  violation  of  reason  and  humanity,  that  the  Bible  is  the 
grand  panacea  for  all  bodily  evils  :  that  it  is  the  effectual  substitute  for 
meat,  drink,  and  clothes,  to  a  starving,  perishing  people.  Who  would 
present  to  a  poor  peasant,  and  his  wretched  family,  after  the  toil  and 
fasting  of  a  whole  day,  not  food  and  raiiiient  to  cheer  and  refresh  them, 
but  a  Bible,  with  its  mysteries,  parables,  prophecies,  and  all  its  superhu- 
man difiiculties ;  as  if  to  insult  the  misery  of  the  poor  unfortunates ;  to 
confound  and  distract  their  untutored  inteUect,  already  racked  and  subdued 
by  the  pressure  of  calamities." — p.  40. 

The  next  paragraph  is  so  wonderAilly  lofty  in  its  rebuke  and  happy 
in  its  illustrations,  that  our  readers  must  be  content  with  but  one  ci 
these  wonders,  which  we  shall  be  carefiil  to  copyiaithiully.  '^  Sup- 
pose, at  dinner  hour,  the  Saints,  hungry  and  voracious,  should  find 
the  table  not  loaded  with  the  luxury  of  exquisite  viands,  but  richly 
and  piously  covered  with  gilt-lettered  and  massive  Bibles.     Oh ! 


282  TaUs  for  the  Britiik  People. 

what  a  scene  would  be  here  displayed — the  tables  overturned — 
Bibles  kicked  aside  and  damned— belly  timber !  belly  timber ! 
shouted  forj  and  the  saints  fighting,  like  bull-dogs,  for  the  first 
bone."  But  the  poor  Bible  is  dropped  for  an  instant,  and  this  cool 
and  sensible  speaker  and  thinker  next  runs  foul  of  those  who  aro  so 
unwise  and  impolitic  as  to  attemp  teaching  the  truth,  because  it 
may  happen  to  disturb  the  religion  of  a  county. 

*'  The  biblicals  are  evidently  a  crusade  against  the  Roman  Catholics  of 
Ireland ;  they  have  in  vain  exerted  every  engine  that  malice  and  iugenuity 
could  contrive  to  subvert  the  religion  of  the  people.  Knaves  and  hypo- 
crites as  they  are,  they  pretend  a  pious  concern  for  the  state  of  religion 
universally,  and  under  this  specious  mask  push  their  warfare  against  the 
moral  and  spiritual  repose  of  the  Irish  people,  and  commit  the  most  violent 
and  horrible  excesses ;  they  erect  biblical  schools,  and  then  go  about  in 
squads  like  so  many  press-gangs,  kidnapping  the  Catholic  children, 
tearing  them  from  the  cottages,  and  the  arms  of  their  parents ;  they  take 
them  by  force  to  those  biblical  pandemoniums,  which  the  Irish  Cathc^ic  in 
his  soul  abhors." — pp.  41,  42. 

The  establishment  in  Engltmd  comes  under  Lady  Candida's 
inry;  but  chiefly  as  it  extends  to  Ireland. 

'*  *•  These  churchmen  seem  to  consider  the  mitre  co-ordinate  with  the 
crown :  their  arrogance  and  assumption  are  pace-a-pace  with  this  preten- 
sion. They  have  sprung  from  the  moorings  of  all  responsibility;  hold 
public  opinion  in  contempt ;  and  have  entirely  out- grown  the  dimensions 
of  apostolic  modesty,  or  christian  piety ;  they  suppose  they  are  bound  to 
no  function,  no  duty ;  and  therefore  think  of  nothing  but  the  indulgence 
of  their  pleasures  and  passions.  Thus  the  people  were  left  without  s[»- 
iftual  or  moral  instruction  ;  jthe  deserted  ilock  dispersed  and  strayed ;  and 
each  sheep  adopted,  for  itself  and  followers,  some  new,  and  perhaps  unsound 
pasturage ;  but  this  was  absolute  necessity,  as  any  was  deemed  better  than 
none  at  all.  Hence  the  progressive  increase  of  dissenters,  deserters,  and 
sectaries ;  the  daily  desertions,  tiiat  have  left  Protestant  priests  no  congre^ 
gations ;  and,  what  they  so  dearly  like,  nothing  to  do ;  and  last,  not  least, 
has  flown  from  it  that  consummation  of  all  religious  scandal,  the  knavish, 
immoral,  Irish  biblicals.  Did  you  ever  hear,  Sir,  that  any  of  the  apostles 
was  "l^ont  to  fire  the  paving  stones  with  his  prancing  coach  and  six ;  or  to 
drive  four-in-hand,  to  the  admiration  of  the  most  adroit  disciple  of  the  whip  ? 
how  many  of  them  have  died  worth  two  millions  of  our  sterlings,  wrung 
from  the  sweat  of  the  brow,  and  labour  of  the  hands,  of  tha  people.*"-^ 
pp.  44,45. 

Next  to  the  Bible  and  its  friends,  the  aristocracy  are  battered 
down  by  pure  and  eloquent  satire.  The  love-sick  silly  Saul  and 
his  Mentor  are  the  loquitors. 

(' « My  brave  and  magnanimous  countrymen,  the  Pecple  of  England^ 
never  were  the  willing  eiiemies  of  the  Irish,  but  die  English  aristocracy, 
those  titled  nobility,  the  natural  foes  of  popular  rights  ana  happiness^  have 
ever  placed  themselves  between  the  people  of  both  nations.  In  that 
position,  they  malign  and  vilify  them,  one  to  the  other.  They  tell  the 
English,  that  the  Irish  are  their  implacable  and  deadly  enemies.  And 
the  Irish,  that  the  English  are  ready  to  cut  them  down,  and  exterminate 
them.     Thus  the  aristocracy  systematically  create  and  preserve  an  im- 


Taksfor  the  British  People.  288 

natural  and  inveterate  hatred  between  the  people  of  the  two  nations,  they 
foment  division  and  discord  among  them,  conquer  and  enslave  one  party, 
by  setting  the  other  at  it  The  foolish  people  kill  find  maim  each  other, 
the  titled  lads  joyfully  look  on;  and  when  the  battle  is  over,  they  bravely 
give  the  ass's  kick  to  the  exhausted  survivor;  then  securely  impose  new 
restraints,  and  plunder  and  spoliate  him  of  all  he  possesses.' — '  So  then,' 
resumed  my  old  friend,  '  we,  the  English  and  Irish  people,  have  had  no 
means  of  seeing  each  other,  but  through  the  murky  medium  of  the  aristo*- 
cracy;  no.  wonder  we  should  appear  on  both  sides  in  lurid,  repulsive  hues 
and  stains/ — '  My  friend,'  said  I,  *  it  shall  not  be  so  in  future.  I  will 
impress  on  my  high-minded,  generous  countrymen^  \h'>X  \\  is  not  reputable 
to  them  to  have  their  high  and  mighty  name,  as  Knglishuien,  identified 
with  the  cruelties  and  tyrannies  perpetrated  on  their  plundered  and  per« 
secuted  Irish  brethren.' — '  Sir,'  said  he, '  this  is  music  to  my  aged  ears.'  " 
—pp.  46, 47. 

Our  readers  must  forgive  us  for  ofiering  them  what  is  far  below 
criticism  or  even  contempt.  But  though  we  have  no  desire  to 
mingle  in  political  strife,  we  wish  to  show  to  what  extremes  rancour 
runs  among  parties  in  poor  Ireland.  If  we  can  form  a  judgment 
any  thing  like  what  is  correct  from  this  worthless  volume^  it  is  that 
religious  mtolerance  respects  neither  truth  Jior  the  lives  of  opposite 
parties;  at  least  on  the  side  of  the  Man  of  all  People ^  if  Candida 
be  a  fair  representative. 

But  ere  we  close,  we  must  look  for  something  not  so  seriously 
fmoommon  in  these  tales  addressed  for  the  benefit  of  the  British 
People:— A  Scotch  lady  is  introduced,  wbo^  Sootch-like,  delivers  a 
lecture  about  the  superiority  of  modem  Athois,  the  virtues  <^ 
Scotch  women,  and  the  foul  tongues  and  vices  of  the  £&ir  sex  of 
Child  Ireland. 

"  *  We,*  rejoined  the  Scotch  lady,  •  love  home  and  its  occupations.  We 
never  trouble  or  vex  our  neighbours  with  inspection,  scandal,  or  imperti- 
nent inquiries  :  here  you  act  like  spies  and  sharpers  on  your  neigfibours. 
But  we  treat  each  other  in  the  true  spirit  of  hiendsbip,  cordiality,  and 
kindness.  While  our  neighbour  is  well  aud  happy  we  rejoice,  and  con* 
gratulate,  and  give  no  farther  trouble.  But  if  he  meet  with  any  untoward 
reyerse  in  his  health  or  affairs,  or  is  reduced  to  any  crisis  or  jeopardy,  then, 
indeed,  we  are  busy  about  him  and  family  ;  acting,  and  inqairing,  and  de- 
vising the  best  we  can,  silently  and  discreetly,  to  relieve  and  tg  restore  him. 
Then,  and  then  only,  we  trouble  him  with  inspection,  close  inquiry,  and 
tequent  visits.  Your  kindness,  as  now  i  perceive,  ha3  the  malignity  of  the 
serpent.  Judas  like,  you  kiss  only  to  betray ;  you  vex  your  neighbour  with 
assiduities,  and  inquiries  into  his  condition ;  not  to  sympathize  or  r^eve, 
but  to  slander  hun,  expose  him,  and  cruelly  aggravate  his  calamities. 
1  have  heard  much  of  the  scandals  of  a  Dublin  tea-table :  I  always  thought 
the  account  exaggerated,  but  I  am  now  convinced  it  fell  short  of  the  troth ; 
for  I  never  had  an  idea  of  any  thing  so  malignant,  wicked,  and  unbaring 
as  the  sbnders  of  a  Dublin  tea-table,  that  regards  neither  age,  sex,  or  con- 


^Ea« 


'  I  expected  to  find  Irishwomen  of  a  different  taste  and  calibre.  I  am 
sonry  to  peroeive  them  Ijo  be  of  a  giddy,  valatile,  censorious  disposition, 
crtzongly  tinctured  with  envy,  hatred,  malice,  and  all  uncharitablenees  to- 


284  7U«  fw  the  BritUh  PeopU. 

Mrards  otie  anoliier ;  devoted  to  admiration  and  outward  show,  no  flattery 
too  gross,  no  praise  too  fulsome  or  absurd,  their  devouring  vanity  has 
stomach  for  it  all.  ,  With  all  this,  I  am  told  they  have  no  tuUional  feeUmg^ 
no  love  of  conatry.  In  their  breast  there  is  not  one  throb  or  spark  of  na* 
lional  virtue.  Any  foreign  impostor  is  sought  and  cherished,  while  an 
accomplished  nativ<j  is  repulsed  and  excluded.  The  barbers,  jugglers^  cut- 
throats, or  gaol-birds,  in  short,  the  low,  the  out  casts  and  abandoned  from 
France,  Italy,  or  any  other  country,  are  employed  by  Irishwomen,  to  teach 
their  pretty  daughters  the  corruptions  and  vices  of  language  and  morals 
imported  amongst  them  by  those  abandoned  and  vicious  renegades,  while 
honest  erudite  natives  of  both  sexes  are  left  to  starve,  and  the  native  lan- 
guage, the  very  soul  of  Sweetness  and  delight,  is  spumed  and  degraded. 
I  trust,'  continued  the  Scotch  lady,  *  that  after  all  this,  so  notorious  and 
so  glaring,  I  shall  hear  no  more  of  such  nonentity  as  the  good,  taste,  patri- 
otism, or  national  virtue  of  Irishwomen.  Til  put  the  matter  to  the  test  in 
a  moment.  Is  there  an  Irish  lady  present  that  can  speak  her  native  lan- 
guage ?     I  pause  for  a  reply None  !  then  none  possessing  a  particle  of 

good  taste,  patriotism,  or  true  Irish  feeling,  nor  worthy  of  the  high  name 
of  Irishwoman." — pp.  57 — 59. 

In  a  tale  called  Life  in  the  Irish  Militia^  a  regimental  anecdote 
is  given  in  these  cutting  terms: — 

'*  Some  of  those  Ensigns,  farmers'  sons  from  the  plough's  tail,  rude 
and  savage  as  uniicked  bears,  were  totally  igiiorant  of  delicacy,  or  eveii 
of  common  manners.  On  a  company  day  at  mess,  when  the  officers  were 
entertaining  those  of  another  regiment,  at  the  close  of  dinner,  when 
finger-glasses  were  introduced,  three  Ensigns  of  the  redoubts  appeared 
to  have  never  seen  sueh  appendages.  One  swallowed  the  contents  of 
his  glass  in  the  presence  of  the  astonished  company.  There  was  Ho 
checking  that  blunder,  for  it  was  soon  over ;  but  the  two  other  sprigs  of 
war  deliberately  tucked  up  their  sleeves,  bared  their  wrists,  anil  called 
for  soap  and  towels,  and  began  washing  their  hands,  and  would  have 
gone  through  the  whole  ceremony  were  it  not  for  the  interference  of 
Captain  B — ^1 — ee,  an  estimable  gentleman  of  polished  manners,  acute 
wit,  and  cultivated  intellect,  who  was  sometimes  necessitated  to  be,  as  it 
were,  the  schoolmaster  of  the  corps.  The  literary  qualifications  of  those 
braided  and  gilded  peasants  were  in  perfect  keeping  with  the  rest  of  their 
accomplishments.  One  of  them  on  the  recruiting  service,  on  transmit- 
ting some  recruits  to  head -quarters,  writes  to  his  commanding  officer — 
*  Sur, — ^I  enclose  to  you  four  roots  (meaning  recruits)  fit  for  saurvess.' " 
—p.  167. 

In  some  parts  of  the  volume  we  are  told  that  every  thing  is  bad 
and  wrong  in  Ireland.  We  are  happy,  however,  to  find  that  there 
are  exceptions,  when  the  Bible  and  biblicals  are  forgotten. 

'*  Such  as  their  laiiguage---the  spring  and  source,  perhaps,  of  all  the 
languages  now  living ;  certainly  the  fountain  of  the  Greek,  Latin,  Spanish, 
and  French. — The  laiiguage  of  sweetness,  kindness  and  charm — the 
language  of  harmony  and  sublimity — the  language  of  the  heart  and  soul, 
that  above,  any  other  now  living,  in  which  every  passion  can  find  conge- 
nial expression.  The  only  remains  now  in  existence  of  the  great  original 
primeval  Celtic  that  once  spread  its  civilization  and  idiom  all  over  Eu- 
rope. The  language  of  the  Irish  music,  so  proverbially  fascinating  and 
delightful.     To  what  docs  our  celebrated  Moore  owe  the  imperishable 


Tales  for  the  British  People.  285 

fEune  of  hia  Melodies,  but  to  their  kindred  connection  with  this  matchless 
lang^uage,  which  was  spoken  in  attic  purity  and  refinement  by  the  royal  , 
ancestors  of  his  present  Majesty,  in  the  proud  daySs^f  Ireland's  ancient 

'^  It  is  a  custom  of  the  Irish,  men  as  well  as  women,  at  departures  or 
meetings,  after  a  long  absence,  to  kiss  each  other.  This  practice  of  the 
men  is  considered  very  shocking  and  barbarous  by  the  gross  and  mawkish 
affectation  of  delicacy  of  their  less  pure,  less  moral,  less  honest,  and  more 
barbarous  censors.  But  let  it  be  remembered  that  this,  like  most  other 
Irish  habits,  is  derived  from  remotest  antiquity.  XenophonJ^makes 
countless  allusions  to  it,  not  censorious,  but  historical.  He  tells  us  that- 
when  Cyrus  was  going  to  his  grandfather,  Darius,  King  of  the  Persians, 
his  father  accompanied  him  to  the  frontier  of  his  dominions,  and  on 
taking  leave  they  kissed  each  other.  Cyrus  proceeded,  and  on  his  arrival 
at  the  Persian  court  he  was  kissed  by  his  grandfather,  and  all  his  male 
relatives.  After  some  time  there,  when  preparing  to  depart  for  home, 
he  was  kissed  by  all  his  acquaintance. 

**  The  most  polished  writer  of  the  Augustan  age,  describing  a  journey 
from  GREAT  ROME  to  a  remote  part  of  the  country,  tells  us  that 
acme  of  the  great  men  of  the  state,  amongst  them  Maecenas,  the  impe- 
rial premier,  met  at  a  certain  stage,  and  greeted  each  other  with  hearty 
embrace  and  rejoicing — 

'  Oh !  what  embraces!  what  joy  waa  there !  * 

Such  is  the  enthusiastic  ejaculation  of  thd  immortal  writer  in  recording 
the  circumstance.  The  native  Irish  do  the  same  at  this  day  at  meetings 
and  partings,  and  thus  preserve  the  customs  and  manners,  in  this  regard, 
of  the  peers  and  princes  of  the  Medes,  Persians,  Greeks,  and  Romans, 
the  most  polished  and  powerful  nations  that  ever  lived.  What  a  field  of 
inquiry  and  contemplation  does  not  observation  and  comparison  here  lay 
open  to  the  philosophic  inquirer  I" — ^pp.  188^190. 

We  shall  close  our  extracts  with  a  touch  at  the  sublime;  it  is  to 
be  found  in  a  visit  to  the  Lakes  of  Killamey. 

**  We  now  proceeded  to  Glend,  where  our  eyes  with  wonder  were  en- 
chained. Lost  in  admiration  and  mute  attention  we  gazed. — Every  thing 
we  had  previously  been  delighted  with  seemed  but  the  every-day  work  of 
inferior,  though  still  superhuman,  agency.  All  our  former  ideas  of  gran- 
deur and  sublimity  were,  indeed,  but  imperfect ! — here  the  hand  of  the 
Great  ^  Architect'  was  visible  :  a  higher  style  of  the  sublime  could  not 
be  imagined  nor  borne  by  the  feeble  organs  of  man.  If  our  notions  of 
the  Deity  permitted  us  to  suppose  that  Omnipotence  ever  reposed  on 
earth,  Glend.  would  be  the  hallowed  retreat.  Inferior  angeU,  I  am 
willing  to'  think,  sometimes  quit  Elysium,  and  deign  to  sojourn  in  this 
terrestiial  paradise.  We  sounded  our  JTrench  horn — Echo  from  her  deep 
recess  responded,  as  if  to  return  the  compliment,  in  notes  so  softly  dulcet, 
as  melted  the  soul  to  an  exquisite  perception  of  harmony."— p.  199. 

We  forgot  to  mention^  at  the  commencement  of  our  notice  of  this 
very  precious  work^  that  besides  energy  and  elegance^  the  author's 
originality  is  extraordinary;  and  what  better  proof  can  we  give 
than  in  the  learned  mottos  prefixed  to  these  tales,  several  of  which 
most  have  cost  a  vast  deal  of  research,  whilst  they  exhibit  an  amaz- 
ing degree  of  acuteness  and  tact? 


286 


NOTICES. 


Art.  XII — PopulMr  Encyclopedia^ 

Sfif.  Glasgow:  Blakie  and   Son, 

1834. 

This  very  useful  and  truly  popu- 
lar work  has  fully  sustained  the  pre- 
tensions with  which  it  started.  The 
part  before  us  is  the  first  of  the 
second  volume  beginning  with  the 
French  word  Canaille,  and  ending 
with  Qongress,  amounting  to  four 
hundred  closely  but  clearly  printed 
double-columned     pages,     besides 
plates  and  a  preliminary  dissertation 
on  the  rise  and  progress  of  litera- 
ture, by  Sir  D.  K.  Sandford.  And  all 
.  this  handsomely  bound  in  cloth  for 
eleven  shillings.  This  dissertation  is 
comprehensive  apd  elegant  essay, 
as  the  name  of  its  author  must  as- 
sure the   reader.     The  work,  and 
others   of  a  similar  stamp,   really 
almost  make  us  regret  having  been 
bom  before   learning   and   know- 
ledge were  to  be  found  of  such  easy 
-access  as  now-a-days  they  are.    It 
was  in  many  and  ponderous  volumes 
that,  what  is  contained  in  the  one 
before  us,    had  to  be  sought  for. 
Here,  however,  men  of  high  stand- 
ing in  literature,  have  presented  the 
ivheat  without  the  chaff,  so  that  he 
who  desires  a  fair  and  popular  ac- 
quaintance with  any  given  subject 
may  speedily  have  himself  informed, 
and  ia  the  most  agreeable  manner 
too.     But  we  can  add  nothing  on 
this  subject,  to  the  now  prevalent 
mode  of  getting  up  works  of  prac- 
tical excellence,  which  is  not  gener- 
ally known  and  felt  in  .a  way  more 
perfect  than  we  can  possibly  state 
it.     Of  the  class  of  books  to  which 
we  refer,  we  can  safely    declare, 
tbat  the  Popular  Encyclopaedia  is 
a  decidedly  good  sample,   and  it 
is  worthy  of  the  western  Metropolis 
of  Scotland. 


Art.  XIII. — Illustratums  of  Taxa- 
Hon,  No.  V. —  The  Scholars  of 
Arneside,  By  Miss  MABTiifkAU. 
London :  Charles  Fox,  67,  Pater- 
noster-xow.    1834. 

Tab  gifted  authoress  tells  us,  that 
she  is  now  about  to  compensate  for 
her  much  speaking,  by  a  longdlence, 
that  is,  of  course,  as  a  writer.  Now, 
though  we  have  had  much  pleasore 
in  perusing  her  various  little  works 
illustrative  of  her  view  of  political 
economy,  we  cannot,  vhen  consi- 
dering her  own  interest,  which  is 
dear  to  us,  regret  the  resolution  she 
has  adopted.  No  one,  even  Miss 
Martineau,  could  not  always,  as  & 
tale-teller,  be  original  and  remark- 
ably bappy;  but  especially,  when 
we  know  that  in  this  shape  she 
sought  to  un(b!d  and  enforce  certadti 
great  principles  connected  with  the 
regulations  of  a  vast  empire,  it  is 
time  that  she  should  fed  her  labcNiTs 
in  that  way  have  not  been  particu- 
larly effective  or  usefoL 

We  do  not  go  into  the  tale  before 
us  as  such«  though  we  observe  it 
possesses  Miss  Martineau's  homelj, 
but  forcible  portraits;  we  had  al- 
most said,  the  same  portraits  so  often 
given  us  in  her  former  pieces.  Still 
it  would  grieve  us  did  we  think  she 
was  never  more  to  amuse  and  in- 
struct. But  thie,  it  gives  us  plea- 
sure to  say,  is  not  to  be  the  case,  ac- 
cording to  her  purposes/  ibr,  as  ahe 
tells  us,  after  a  few  yWs'  prepara- 
tion, she  contemplates  the  time 
when,  better  qualified  for  the  ser- 
vice, she  may  greet  her  readers 
agai^.  We  shall  welcome  heartily 
her  re-appearance;  but  let  ne  have 
no  more  political  economy  in  the 
shape  of  this. 


Nottees, 


287 


Aet.  XIV— History  of  the  Fleet 

Marriages^  8fo.    By  John  8ou- 

THsiiDBN  BuRK.  Second  Edition, 

London,  1834. 

This    is  the  second  edition  of   a 
work  we  entered  into  at  some  length 
when  it  first  appeared.  The  favour- 
able opinion  we  then  expressed  of 
it  has  been  borne  out  by  the  pub- 
lic, and  hence  a  revised  and  im- 
proved impression  is  now  published. 
llie    additions    are    considerable. 
The  size  of  the  work  precluded  the 
author*  he  says,  from  giving  an  ac* 
count  of  the  different  episcopal  and 
dissenting  chapels  where  marriages 
were  solemnized,  and  which  were 
in  existence  prior  to  the  passing  of 
the.  Marriage  Act  in  1753.     A  list 
of  the  principal  of  such    chapels 
however  is  inserted  in  this  edition ; 
but  out  of  eighty  or  ninety  of  them 
in  and  about  London,  only  fourteen 
of  the  registers   remain,   some  of 
which  are  in  private  hands.     The 
numbers  thus  limited  are  therefore 
of  considerable  value.     He  has  also 
been  enabled  to  give  for  the  first 
time»  in  k  published  form,  an  ac- 
count of  the  succession  of  wardens 
of  the  Fleet  Prison :  thus  conferring 
greater  precision  upon  some  points 
reated  of  in  this  curious  book. 

I  I  -  -      -      I  u  _    II  ^_iM  ■  -Mil       g         ■   '    ^Ti        -^ 1     -      - T — I      r 

Art.  XV — An  Analytical  Arrange^- 

of  the  Apocalypse.  By  Richaro 

ROE.'-Dublin  Times,  1804. 

This  we  think  is  an  obscure  book, 
and  assuredly  on  an  obscure  subject. 
The  anttior  treats  of  the  order  of 
our  ideas  as  embodied  in  external 
signs,  and  this  as  introductory  to 
Bach  an  orderly  arrangement  of  the 
Apocalypse  as  he  declares  can  alone 
lead  to  a  proper  balancing  of  its 
parts,  and  consequently  understand- 
ing o£  its  meaning.  He  anticipates 
that,  ere  long,  the  whole  of  the  Bible 
will  be  analyzed  and  arranged  in 


this  manner,  and  it  appears  that  the 
Rev.  Thomas  Boys  has  made  a  com- 
mencement. The  principle  follow- 
ed has  been  developed  by  Bishop 
Lowth  and  Bishop  Jebb,  under  the 
name  of  Parallelism. 

The  author  discusses  first  of  all 
the  signs  employed  by  us  for  the 
communication  of  our  ideas ;    and 
this  leads  him  into  a  philosophical 
elucidation  of  the  principles  of  univer- 
sal  grammar.     After  endeavouring 
to  shew  that  there  is  a  strict  and 
beautiful  order  observed  and  desired 
in  the  arrangement  of  signs,  he  goes 
on  to  say  that  an  analysis  of  such 
an  order   becomes  an   analysis  of 
the  sense.     We  have  then  sucha 
classification  of  the  different  parts 
of  the  Apocalypse  aS  at  a  glance 
show  a  visible  correspondence  and 
agreement,  and  next,  in  a  similar 
form,  we  have  a  summary  of  the 
respective  topics  belonging  to  these 
anranged  signs.     We  cannot,  how- 
ever, expect  any  one  to  be  capable 
of   comprehending  the  system  as 
here  elucidated,  without  a  careful 
perusal  of  the  work  itself.     If  it  be, 
ad  the  author  says,  that,  until  an 
arrangement  agreeable  to  this,  of 
the  whole  volume  of  Scripture  is 
completed,  we  shall  not  make  the 
nearest  possible  approach,  either  to 
the    best  translation   or  die  most 
correct  interpretation,  certainly  it 
must  be  a  matter  of  the  very  last 
importance,  that  the  principle  and 
system  here  proposed  should  be  un- 
derstood and  followed  up.     He  ac- 
cordingly   intimates  that    he    will 
proceed  to  pther  portions  of  Holy 
Writ  in  fulfilment  of  his  views.  The 
endeavour  is  highly  praiseworthy, 
bat,  as  here  exemplified,  not  one  of 
a  thousand  will  understand  him: 
,we  may  add,  very  few  biblical  scho- 
lars, unless  gifted  with  clear,  steady, 
and  long-sustained  powers  of  ab- 
stractions, will  join  him  in  such  a 
field. 


Notices, 


288 


Aet.  XVL — The  Domestic  Mannas 

and  Private  Life  of  Sir  fFalter 

Seott,  By  J.  Hogo»  with  a  Memoir 

of  the  Author.    Glasgow:    JohA 

Reid  &  Co.  1834. 

Thb  Shepherd  has  so  often  given 
the  particulars  of  his  own  life  upon 
a  much  larger  8cal6  than  is  here 
presented,  Uiat  we  need  not  say 
any  thing  of  the  Memoir,  drawa  up, 
we  do  not  know  by  whom,  but 
evidently  from  the  materials  fur- 
nished by  himself.  The  private  life 
of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  by  the  Shep- 
herd, is  a  greater  cusiosity ;  or  rather 
their  joint  lives  :  for  he,  the  Shep- 
herd, is  fully  as  much  kept  in  the 
fore-ground  as  the  mighty  minstrel. 
Yet  diough  a  coarse,  and  in  no  few 
instances  we  believe  an  inaccurate, 
account,  it  yet  reflects  a  very  full, 
and  by  no  means,  as  a  whole,  an 
unfavourable  portrait  of  the  deceas- 
ed. Several  of  the  opinions  advanced 
are  laughably  absurd,  and  some  of 
the  stories  told  indebted  in  no 
small  degree  to  the  Shepherd's  ima- 
gination. For  there  is  a  diiFerence 
between  being  Jamie  and  true  Jamie. 
At  any  rate  he  is  an  original,  and  the 
most  imperturbably  vain  man  that 
ever  snuffed  the  mountain  breeze  of 
old  Caledonia ;  and  that  is  no  slight 
comparison. 

Hogg^s  Domestic  Mannei^s  of 
Sootthave  lately  received  in  Fraser's 
Magagine  a  most  unmerciful  hand- 
ling; far  exceeding  the  merits  or 
demerits  of  the  work.  One  thing 
we  are  quite  sure  of — had  the  great 
deceased  perused  this  life  himself, 
not  much  exceeding  in  length  fifty 
pages,  he  would  have  been  the  first 
to  laugh,  and  probably  to  thank  the 
author  for  it.  There  is  soinething 
so  richly  extravagant  in  the  fancy, 
which  James  cannot  disguise,  that 
Scott  was  jealous  of  his  talents  and 
success,  as  to  make  it  the  most  clum- 
sy process  possible  to  attempt  com- 
batting the  doctrine.    We  repeat. 


that,  as  a  whole,  thissketcli  by  Hogg 
of  the  great  Ma^cian's  life,  insteul 
of  lowering, has  lent  us  a  more  strik- 
ing, though  homely,  picture  of  the 
deceased  than  we  before  possessed, 
whilst  it  has  raised  the  Shepherd 
a  grade  higher  in  our  estimation. 

Akt.  XVlL—MiUer's  Gardener's 

Dictionary »    No.  10.     London: 

G.  Henderson.   1834. 

Thb  great  celebrity  of  this  first-rate 
work*  as  left  by  its  author,  is  a  suf- 
ficient ground  for  its  appearance  in 
this  cheap  and  perfect  state,  in  these  "^ 
days,  when  very  many  branches  of 
knowledge  of  vastly  inferior  value 
are  assiduously  pursued,  and  atsudi 
convenient  prices  presented  to  the 
world.  The  whole  of  "  Miller's  Gar- 
4ener's  Dictionary"  in  fifty  num- 
bers, at  one  sliillingeach,  can  hardly 
be  supposed  out  of  the  hands  of  any 
g^ener  or  enlightened  agricultor* 
ist,  who  has  not  been  previously 
possessed  of  it.  The  present  edi- 
tion, however,  not  only  gives  sub- 
stantially the  one  last  revised  by 
himself,  excepting  with  such  modi- 
fications as  later  discoveries  sug- 
gested, but  brings  down  to  {he  pre^ 
sent  period  every  additional  im- 
provement and  (act  that  has  been 
since  added  to  the  sciences  embraced 
in  his  work.  The  additional  in- 
formation here  afforded  in  the  de- 
partments of  agricultural  chemistry* 
mineralogy,  and  zoology,  will  be 
found  a  vast  improvement. 

On  perusing  the  portion  of  this 
edition  which  has  been  {^bliahed, 
even  the  general  reader,'  who  is  to- 
tally unacquainted  with  the  8ub]ectB 
treated,  will  at  once  find  the  most 
instructive  and  entertaining  matter, 
proving  the  celebrated  author  to 
have,  like  all  other  great  men,  coo- 
ferred  on  common-place  topks  the 
riches  of  his  own  clear,  comprehen- 
sive, and  original  mind,  Abies,  the 
Fir,  which  of  course  comes  to  be 


Notices, 


289 


considered  at  the  beginning  of  the 
work,  would,  were  this  any  thing 
more  than  a  general  notice,  afford 
some  highly  attractive  extracts. 
The  author  brought  to  hi3  task,  not 
merely  an  inexhaustible  store  of  in- 
formation and  sound  reasoniug,  but 
a  fine  enthusiasm,  that  has  justly 
ol>tained  for  him-  an  undying  fame. 
The  scarcity  and  high  price  of  his 
best  edition,  and  the  various  imper- 
fect and  garbled  versions  attempted 
to  be  given  of  it,  not  only  prove  its 
high  character,  but  the  necessity  of 
this  reprint  and  enlarged  form.  We 
shall  only  farther  say,  that  the  pub- 
lication before  us  will,  when  com* 
pleted,  be  by  far  the  best  practical 
and  scientific  work  in  existence  con  • 
nected  with  many  parts  of  general 
agriculture,  but  especially  on  every 
branch  of  horticulture^ 


Art.  XVIII.— ///iM^a/«o»w  of  So- 
cial Deprcnntt/j  No.  F.  What 
are  the  Rabble?  By  a  Lady. 
Glasgow :  John  Reid  &  Co.  1834. 

We  do  not  like  this  number  any 
more  than  the  last.  The  writer  has 
vigour  of  thought  and  language, 
but  a  distorted  and  distorting  ima- 
^jiation.  The  facts  brought  for- 
ward are  not  correctly  stated,  or  at 
least  not  fairly  placed  as  regards 
light  or  circumstances.  Sweeping 
conclusions  are  drawn  from  scanty 
premises.  Many  of  the  opinions 
pronounced  with  unmeasured  con- 
fidence are  crude,  and  the  entire 
i^irit  and  influence  of  the  writing 
forbidding.  Surely  it  is  not  ex- 
pected that  such  pictures  of  human 
life  should  benefit  either  the  class 
whose  interests  are  advocated,  or 
that  which  is  the  object  of  vitupe- 
ration. The  commencement  of  the 
first  chapter  leads  one  to  guess  the 
tone  of  all  that  follows.  "Who 
made  the  rabble?  Was  it  them- 
selves? Was  it  an  absolute  and 
tyrannic  law  of  nature?  Was  it 
VOL.  III.  (1834.)  NO,  II. 


God  ?" — and  what  will  our  readers 
think  of  the  writer's  weight  as  a 
moralist  or  philosopher,  when  we 
tell,  that  these  short  questions,  com- 
prehensive and  some  of  them  too 
puzzling  for  any  modest  person  at 
once  to  answer,  are  all  in  about  as 
short  a  space  disposed  of,  as  the 
propounding  of  them  occupied ! 

Art.  XIX. — A  Second  Letter  to  C. 
E.  Long,  Esq,  on  the  M.S. 
Journal  and  Private  Corres- 
pondence of  the  late  Lieut.-  Gen. 
R.  B.  Long.  By  Gknbbal  Lord 
Viscount  Bkbesford,  G.C.B. 
London:  John  Murray,  Albe- 
marle Street.    1834. 

Lord  Beresford  has  a  hard  matter 
of  it,  between  one  and  another,  to 
defend  himself  from  charges  of  in- 
capacity and  misconduct  as  a  Mili- 
tary Commander.     First  and  most 
formidable  appears  Colonel  Napier, 
and  next  the  nephew  of  the  late 
Gen.  Long,  whose  journal  and  cor- 
respondence have  in  part  been  pub- 
lished. Besides  incapacity,  the  latter 
antagonist  alleges  that  the  Marshal 
was  partial  and  unjust  in  not  having 
recommended  Gen.   Long  for  the 
Albuera  Medal.     We  can  only  refer 
to  the  publications  that  have  of  late 
been   appearing  on  these  matters, 
for  any  thing  like  a  clear  under- 
standing of    the  points  at  issue. 
They  are  no  doubt  of  importance 
to  the  men  of  high  names  immedi- 
ately implicated,  but  to  the  public 
in  general  the  subject  is  not  very 
interesting.    We  observe  that  Lord 
Beresford  declares  that  the  present 
is  to  be  the  last  notice  he  shall  ever 
take  of  the  matters  discussed  in  his 
letter.     This  is  clearly  a  prudent 
resolution,  nor  will  the  country  at 
large-estimate  the  great  services  he 
conferred  upon  it  by  his  skilful  ge- 
neralship   the    less  correctly    and 
favourably  from  his  abstaining  from 
further  disputatioh. 


290 


Notices. 


Art.  XX. — An  Introduction  to 
Greek  Prose  Composiiion.  By 
the  Rev.  John  Kenkick,  M.A. 
Part  2d,  SynUus,  London :  John 
Murray,  Albemarle  Street.  1834. 

Mr.  Kenrick  is  indefatigable  in 
his  labours  to  make  the  finest  lan- 
guage that  ever  was  spoken  under- 
stood by  scholars,  not  merely  in  so 
far  as  a  general  apprehension  of 
the  writings  of  its  best  writers  is 
concerned,  but  in  ita  radical  prin- 
ciples; in  its  grammatical  phHoso- 
phy  and  original  genhis.  In  ))is 
numerous  effortSi  it  will  be  ob- 
served that  he  is  chiefly  concerned, 
like  all  first- rate  linguists,  with 
what  less  enlightened  scholars 
might  conceive  to  be  the  trifling 
parts  of  speech,  and  peculiarities 
of  construction.  With  him  the 
Greek  article,  the  accidence  of 
nouns,  the  rationale  of  the  declen-* 
sion  of  verbs,  the  value  of  inde-* 
clinables,  and  the  use  of  particles, 
are  of  chief  moment  in  his  lessonB 
on  grammar. 

This  is  the  second  division  of  n 
book,  the  first  part  of  whioh  yfaa  in 
a  great  measure  a  translation  from 
the  German  of  Rost  and  Wiiste- 
mann.  In  this  part,  howevert  the 
author  has  not  followed  the  ar- 
rangement of  these  grammarianfi; 
and  the  examples  to  whioh  he  has 
had  recourse  are  of  ^  pur^r  age  of 
the  literature  of  the  Greeks  than 
many  which  they  have  adopted 
The  Attic  prose  writei^  before  the 
time  of  Alexander,  especially  Xe- 
nophon,  are  the  principal  source  of 
his  examples.  These  is  an  excep- 
tion in  the  admission  of  the  anec- 
dotes and  sayings  of  the  philoso*. 
phers  from  Diogenes  Laertiut ,  the 
style  of  which,  as  the  luithor  justly 
remarks,  is  so  different  from  that  of 
the  biographer  himself,  as  to  «how 
that  they  have  been  verbally  pre- 
served from  earlier  times.  As  an 
introduction  to  iGreek  prose  con^M>- 
sition,  this  work,  and  especially  Uiis 


part  of  Sfti^x  will  be  found  a  dear 
and  highly  us^iuf  help  to  advanced 
scholars,  we  mean  not  to  tyros. 

AtLnJLXh—The  FamUy  Tepogta- 
pheTf  beina  a  Compendious  A^ 
count  of  the  Antieni  imd  Present 
State  of  the  Cotsnties  of  Bn^ 
land.  By  8amuel  TylBima.  Vol. 
IV.  Oxford  Circuit.  London: 
J.  B.  Nichols  &  Son,  26,  Parlia- 
ment-street.    18S4. 

This  volume  of  the  Pamfly  Topo- 
grapher, embracing  the  Oxford  Cir- 
cuit, includes,  of  course,  the  coun- 
ties of  Berkshire,  Gloucestershire, 
Herefordshire,  Monmouthshire,  Ox- 
fordshire, Shropshire,  Stailbrdshirc. 
and  Worcestershire.  The  principal 
merit  in  all  such  works  must  lay  in 
the  comprehensive  and  lucid  charac- 
ter of  the  ai^ngement,  and  in  the 
accuracy  of  the  minute  details, 
which  require  care  and  indostrjr 
inuch  more  than  any  talent,  of  an 
original  kind,  hi  -these  essential 
particulars  we  find  this  voi«Dbe,'  as 
we  have  found  the  precQdiiig,  to  «x- 
ceL  The  arrangement  is  as  fol> 
lows :— rThe  situation  and  extent  of 
each  county  is  gifven;  the  ynri^Pt 
state  and  remaina;  the  present  state 
^nd  appearancdi  which  contftflaus  a 
number  of  statiatical  particulars  t  the: 
population ;  the  history  of  reinark-* 
able  and  important  events ;  an  aL- 
pbabetical  list  of  eminent  natives* 
and  miscelianeous  obeervatio»r.  At 
last,  and  perhaps  not  the  Insist  valua* 
ble^comesaliatoftha  works  consulted 
in  the  con^endiuioi  of  each  oouni^^ 
There  is  a  neat  and  distinot  vmp  of 
every  ^lire  prefixed  to  its  fiarticular 
depiutment.  Upon  the  whole  of  the 
features  of  this  work,  as  im  itine- 
rary, as  a  statistical  account,  $»  wa 
imtiquarian  index,  and  -^toxioal*. 
aa  also  misceUaneQiiB  gMida^  we  pio- 
nounce  it  to  be  our  opinion,  that  it 
will  be  found  remarkably  oorrect, 
a|id  worthy  to  become  a  standard 
book  of  reference  in  all  such  mattera. 


THE 


MONTHLY    REVIEW 


NOVEMBER. 


Art.  I. — Memoirs  of  John  Napier  of  MercMston,  his  Lineage,  Life^  and 
Times;  with  a  History  of  the  Invention  of  Logarithms.  By  Mark 
Napixb.    4to.  Edinburgh:   Blackwood;  London:   Cadell.     1834. 

This  new  and  elaborate  life  of  the  celebrated  Inventor  of  Loga- 
rithms abounds  with  learning,  particular  acquaintance  with  the 
times^  of  the  subject  of  the  work,  and  the  most  minute  circum- 
stances connected  with  his  lineage.  It  also  betrays  not  a  little 
conceit;  affectation,  prejudice,  and  bad  taste,  both  in  style  and 
sentiment.  But  before  giving  specimens  to  establish  these  asser- 
tions, we  shall  just  glance  at  the  leading  points  and  landmarks  of 
the  illustrious  tfohn  Napier's  History. 

He  was  Baron  of  Merchiston,  which  is  in  the  immediate  vicinity 
of  Edinburgh ;  the  house  which  he  inhabited  being  still  in  the 
hands  of  his  fkmily,  and  the  apartment  in  which  he  conducted  his 
profoundest  studies  being  regarded  by  his  posterity  as  a  sanctum 
sanctorum.  He  was  the  eldest  son  of  Sir  Archibald  Napier,  and 
was  born  in  the  year  1550;  his  death  took  place  about  sixty-eight 
Tears  afterwards,  so  that  he  lived  in  very  eventful  times,  in  which 
ne  took  an  influential  pcurt,  in  so  far  as  learning,  philosophy,  and  an 
earnest,  at  the  same  time  exemplary  standing  for  the  truth,  were 
concerned*  His  natural  parts,  which  were  great,  received  all  the 
culture  that  the  University  of  St.  Andrews  could  afford,  and  all 
the  knowledge  that  travelling  in  France,  Italy,  and  Germany  could 
present.  When  he  returned  to  his  native  country,  instead  of  seek- 
ing after  the  highest  offices  of  the  state,  which  might  have  been 
reached  by  him,  he  chose  rather  to  devote  his  powers  to  private, 
more  noble,  and  indeed  more  useful  occupations.  His  chief  em- 
ployment was  the  study  of  the  Holy  Scriptures  and  Mathematics. 
His  Essay  on  the  Book  of  Revelations  was  a  profound  work,  though, 
like  many  other  researches  connected  with  this  mysterious  portion 
of  the  Bible,  some  of  his  calculations  have  by  time  been  discovered 
to  be  erroneous.     It  was  at  that  period^  however,  hailed  by  the 

YOL.  III.   (1834.)   NO.  in.  Y 


293  Memoirs  of  John  Napier, 

reformed  Churches  at  home  and  abroad,  as  an  unanswerable  eflbrt  ; 
and  at  the  present  day  it  is  regarded  as  a  work  of  the  at* 
most  penetration,  evincing  judgment  and  erudition  of  the  highest 
order. 

Napier's  chief  renown,  however,  belongs  to  his  discovery  of 
logarithms  in  trigonometry,  by  which  the  ease  and  expedition  in 
calculation  have  so  wonderfully  assisted  the  sc^eoce  of  astaponomyy 
and  the  arts  of  practical  geometry  and  navigation.  The  work  which 
contained  this  great  discovery  or  rather  invention  of  artificial  num- 
bers, appeared  in  1614 ;  an  account  of  which  is  ably  given  by  the 
author  in  the  volume  now  under  review.  Indeed,  if  this  account 
does  not  evince  a  first  rate  knowledge  of  the  abtruse  subjects  there 
discussed,  it  shows  that  there  is  in  the  family  a  strong  partiality 
towards  such  pursuits; — a  sort  of  testimony  of  homage  to  the  cele- 
brated philosopher,  the  most  respectfiil  and  honourable.  It  is  in 
this  portion  of  the  present  work  that  every  one,  we  think,  wul 
meet  with  the  least  number  of  those  blemishes  which  disfigiare  ^e 
other  parts.  We  shall  not,  however,  follow  the  learned  author  into 
such  profound  topics  as  those  necessarily  connected  with  the  histoin| 
^  kigarithms  lead.  We  rather  quote  some  carious  ini»dents  illufi- 
trative  of  the  manner  in  whi(3i  the  invention  was  seeehred  hy  the 
adentifie  world  at  the  time* 

It  would  appear  that  Napier  had  coanmunicated  to  Mr.  Henrf 
iBviggs,  mathematical  professor  in  Gresham  College^  his  wondesfiil 
•cafion  for  the  logarithms ;  and  that  that  learned  pco&ssor  set  hiflei* 
self  to  apply  tihe  rules,  in  his  ^Imitatio  Napierea.'  In  a  Jettar  lz> 
Archbishop  Usher,  in  the  year  1615,  Bciggs  writes.4SiBs:— ^^NapMsr, 
Baron  of  Merchiston,  hath  set  my  head  md  hands  at  wmk,  witb 
his  inew  and  admirable  logarithms.  I  hope  to  see  him  this  fiam- 
«ier,  if  it  please  God ;  for  I  never  saw  a  book  which  pleased  nae 
betttf ,  and  made  me  more  wonder.*'  The  following  passage  ifaom 
the  life  of  Lilly  the  astrologer,  is  oooted  by  Lord  Bnchaa,  as  giving 
a  .picturesque  view  of  the  meeting  oetween  Bnggs  aad  die  inventor 
of  the  logarithms,  at  Merchiston.  ^'i  will  acquaint  voo,  (aays  littj^ 
with  one  memorable  story  related  unto  me  by  John  Marr^  Kn  ex- 
cellent mathematician  and  geometiician,  whom  I  cooceive  yon  Be- 
member.  He  was  servant  to  king  Jaaies  I.  and  Charles  I.  When 
Merchiston  first  published  his  logarithms,  Mr.  Briggs,  then  reader 
of  the  astronomy  lecture  at  Gresham  Collie  in  London*  was 
much  surprised  with  admiration  of  them,  that  he  could  have 
quietness  in  himself  until  he  had  seen  that  noble  person,  whoee 
only  invention  th^y  were :  he  acquaints  John  Marr  therewith,  lAio 
went  into  Scotland  before  Mr.  Briggs,  purposely  to  be  there  when 
these  two  so  learned  persons  should  meet.  Mr.  Briggs  ^points  a 
certain  time  when  to  meet  at  Edinburgh;  but  failing  therecn,  M^r- 
chiston  was  fearful  he  would  not  come.  It  happened  one  day,  ^os 
John  Marr  and  the  Baron  Napier  were  speaking  of  Mr.  Briggs  : 
^  Ah !  John  (said  Merchiston)  Mr.  Briggs  mil  &ot  aome.'    M, 


Mem0fr0  of  John  iV^fedr.  293 

yery  ipstanl;  one  knocks  at  die  gaie;  ichn  Marr  hasted  down,  and 
it  proved  to  be  Mr.  Briggs^  to  his  great  contentment.  He  bong^ 
Mr.  Briggs  up  to  the  baron^s  chamb^^  where  almost  one  qnarter 
of  an  hour  was  spent  each  beholding  the  other  with  admiration, 
?)efore  one  word  was  spoken.  At  last  Mr.  Briggs  began :— *  Sir,  1 
have  ^undertaken  this  long  journey  purposely  to  see  your  person, 
and  to  know  to  what  engine  of  wit  or  ingenuity  you  came  first  to 
fjbink.(^  this  most  excellent  help  into  astronomy;  viz.  the  loga- 
.rithms;  but  $ic,  being  by  you  found  out,  I  wonder  nobody  else  found 
,it  out  hefoce,  when  now  being  known  it  appears  so  easy.'  He  was 
jiobly  entertained  by  Baron  Napier,  a^d  every  summer  after  that, 
during  the  Iaird*s  being  alive,  this  venerable  man,  Mr.  3riggs,  went 
|>u^sely  to  Scotland  to  visit  him.'" 

Besides  this  great  invention  of  the  logarithms,  Baron  Napi^im- 
-proved  trigonometry  with  his  universal  rules  of  theorenur  for  solv- 
ing all  the  cases  of  right  angled  spherical  triangles,  which  he  calls 
tb©  fiT>e  circvlar  parts.  His  last  literary  production  was  his 
*llabdology  andPromptuary,*  in  the  year  in  wnich  he  died,  dedicated 
lo,the  chancellor  Seton.  This  publication  contains  the  description 
.and  use  of  an  apparatus  called  *  NapiQr'3  Bones,  or  Rods,*  and  other 
ingenious  methods  of  abridging  calculation.  To  his  woiis  may  be 
udded  bis  letter  dated  June  2nd,  1596,  to  Ahthony  Bacon,  (the  ori- 
/ginal  of  which  is  in  the  archbishop's  library  at  Lambeth,)  entitled^ 
'*  Secret  jnyention^  profitable  and  necessary  in  these  days,  for  the 
defence  of  this  island,  and  withstanding  strangers,  enemies  to 
Crod^s  .truth  and  rdigion.*'  Such,  indeed,  was  the  extent  of  Napier's 
reputation  that  the  illustrious  Keplen  dedicated  to  him  his  '  Eph^- 
merides,*  which  was  published  in  1-617  ;  and  it  appears  -from  many 
passages  in  his  letter,  [that  he  reckoned  the  Scottish  philosopher 
the  gi-eatest  man  of  his  age^  in  the  particular  department  to  whiclh 
he  mrected  his  attention. 

J^AJon  Napier  was  twice  married.  He  had  only  one  son,  cafflcfl 
Atc&bald,  by  his  first  wife.  By  bis  second  he  had  a  numerous 
£Kailj>  five  sons  |tnd  five  daughters.  His  successors  have  been, 
Mid  qre  «till  eminent  apaong  the  Scottish  aristocracy,  but  the  most 
rrepo^ii^ed  name  of  them  all  Is  still  be  whp  Mr.  Briggs,  with  an 
jamiable  and  single-minded  devotion,  went  once  evei'y  yeax  to  visit, 
;«rfaen  itiavelling  between  London  and  Edinburgh  was  no  ordinary 
•atfiair,  'but  such  as  suggested  to  men  of  prudence  and  forethought 
the  propriety  of  making  their  latter  wiJls,  ere  starting  on  such  a 
pexflous  and  dreary  journey. 

But  it  is  time  we  should  say  and  present  something  of  the  quap(o 
bCTore  us.  With  our  first  extract  we  entirely  agree  in  so  far  as  the 
sentiments  are  concerned;  and  have  only  to  say  of  its  composition, 
.that  for  labour,  and  pushing  every  point  to  the  farthest  on  which 
.eplogy  may  be  &;stened,  it  13  not  half  jso  obtrusive  as  many  others 
in  the  volume: — 

y2 


294  Memoira  of  JcJm  Nig^. 

**  John  Napier  is  the  great  land-jaark  of  tbe  most  importaat  epoch  (A 
letters  in  Scotland*  He  is  the  first  who,  in  the  early  struggles  of  our 
clinxch,  gave  a  decided  impulse  to  its  hiblicallore,  by  a  commentary  on  die 
most  abstruse  books  of  the  sacred  Scriptures,  which  for  learning  and  re- 
search has  never  been  equalled  by  any  of  his  countrymen.  At  the  same 
time,  alone  and  unaided,  he  placed  his  sterile  country  upon  a  levd  in  ma- 
thematical learning  with  those  more  propitious  climes,  Germany  and  Italy, 
M^'the  cradle  of  astronomy,  and  the  hot-bed  of  letters.  It  would  be  no  less 
interesting  than  instructive  to  trace  minutely  the  development  of  his  ex- 
traordinary faculties.  But  it  is  chiefly  ^m  traits  afforded  by  the  indivi- 
dual himself  that  the  progress  of  so  great  an  intellect  can  be  intimately 
known ;  and  autobiography  was  incompatible  with  the  qualities  of  Na- 
pier^s  mind,  and  the  nature  of  his  atchievements.  Yet  few  could  have  left 
a  more  instructive  diary  of  education.  He  had  drunk  deeply  of  human 
knowledge  at  its  most  recondite  fountains ;  and  the  Bishop  of  Orkney, 
when  he  urged  immediate  attention  to  his  studies,  had  not  cast  his  advice 
upon  the  waters,  or  falsely  predicted  the  result.  His  illustrious  nephew 
•oauade  himself  acquainted  with  the  heights  and  depths  of  learning.  He  read 
and  studied  the  sacied  volume  in  all  its  tongues.  He  could  enliven  his 
abstruse  lucubrations  with  the  beauties  of  the  ancient  classics.  He  was 
more  than  learned  in  science  and  philosophy — he  was  a  high  piiest  in  their 
temples ;  and  the  occult  sciences  were  not  left  by  him  unexplored.  Most 
probably  it  was  the  stat^  of  the  country  that  prevented  the  advice  of  his 
uncle,  given  in  1560,  from  being  immediately  adopted.  In  1558  the  Uni- 
veiaity  of  St.  Andrews,  the  most  celebrated  in  Scotland,  became  nearly 
deserted  in  consequence  of  the  tumults  of  the  Reformation ;  and  in  the 
following  year,  for  the  same  reason,  the  faculty  of  arts  were  obliged  to  dis- 
pense with  the  public  exhibitions  of  the  graduates.  Yet  Napier  oommeneed 
his  public  education  at  an  earlier  period  than  has  been  supposed.  It 
was  in  his  fourteenth  year,  before  the  marriage  of  Mary  to  Dandey*  and 
when  the  seats  of  learning  were  shaken  by  the  storms  gathering  aiowftd 
the  unhappy  queen,  that  he  left,  for  the  firat  time,  his  paternal  rocrf*.  His 
mother  died  in  1563  :  and  in  that  same  year  he  became  a  student  in  S(t. 
Salvator's  Gdlege. 

"  Although  this  was  three  years  after  the  Parliamentary  establishment 
of  the  Reformed  doctrines,  St.  Salvator's  was  still  remarkable  for  the  di^- 
ded  state  of  its  opinions ;  and  the  keenness  engendered  betwixt  the  scho- 
lastic temper  of  the  age,  and  the  magnitude  of  the  question  which  agitated 
Europe,  must  have  exercised  a  corresponding  and  decisive  infiaence  itvtc 
many  a  youthful  mind.  In  the  mass  of  learned  and  minute  infonnattoa 
respecting  St.  Andrews,  afforded  by  Dr.  M*Crie  in  his  life  of  Andrew 
Melville,  I  find  it  stated  that  sometime  at  this  period  ^e  students  were  ^K- 
ercised  once  a  week  in  theologieal  disputations,  at  which  one  of  the  mas- 
ters presided,  and  the  rest  were  present  and  took  a  shave  in  the  dekafee. 
The  disputants  were  exhorted  to  avoid  the  altercations  usually  practised 
in  the  schools,  and  not  to  bite  and  devour  one  another  like  dogs ;  but  to 
behave  as  men  desirous  of  mutual  instruction,  and.as  the  servants  of  Christ, 
who  ought  not  to  strive,  but  to  be  gentle  to  all.  Napier,  who  throaghont 
all  his  life  was  characterized  by  the  utmost  singleness  of  heart  and  the 
gentlest  dispositions,  appears^  nevertheless,  to  have  been  able  to  keep  his 


Metnoin  of  John  Napier.  ^5 

own,  and  ev^n  to  play  a  oonepiciHms  part,  amid  the  gladiatoiship  of  intd- 
lect  affected  hy  his  youthful  competitors.  From  the  moment  his  mind  be- 
gan to  work  he  aspired  to  be  a  Protestant  champion,  and  applied  hig  whole 
energies  to  that  sacred  cause.  The  fact  is  derived  from  bis  own  words, 
which  are  the  more  interesting  as  they  convey  the  solitary  anecdote  of  hia 
youth  that  is  known  to  exist.  In  his  address  '  to  the  Godly  and  Christian 
reader/  prefixed  to  his  Scriptural  Commentaries,  he  says,  '  In  my  tender 
yeares  and  bameage  in  Sanct  Androis,  at  the  schooles,  having,  on  the  one 
part,  contracted  a  loving  familiaritie  with  a  certaine  'gentleman,  a  Papist ; 
and,  on  the  other  part,  being  attentive  to  the  sermons  of  that  worthy  man 
of  God,  Maister  Christopher  Goodman,  teaching  upon  the  Apocalyps,  I  was 
so  mooved  in  admiration  against  the  blindness  of  Papists,  that  conld  not 
most  evidently  see  theit  seven-hilled  citie  Rome  painted  out  there  so  lively 
by  Saint  John  as  the  mother  of  all  spiritual  whoredom,  that  not  onely  bnr- 
stit  I  out  in  continual  reasoning  against  my  said  familiar,  but  also  from, 
thenceforth  I  determined  with  myselfe  (by  the  assistance  of  God's  spirit) 
to  employ  my  studie  and  diligence  to  search  out  the  remanent  mysteries^ 
that  holy  Book :  as  to  this  houre  (praised  be  the  Lorde)  I  have  bin  doing 
at  al  such  times  as  conveniently  I  might  have  occasion.'  Thus  from  him- 
self we  have  an  explanation  of  his  long  retiring  habits,  and,  at  the  same  time» 
such  a  picture  of  the  early  vigour  and  independence  of  his  mind  as  to  make 
us  wish  for  more.  A  youth,  under  fourteen  years  of  age,  listening  so  in- 
tensely to  an  exposition  of  the  Apocalypse  from  the  pulpit,  and  bursting 
forth  in  disputation  with  his  Papistical  friend  and  companion,  until  he 
cpnceived  the  daring  project  of  leaving  not  a  mystery  of  prophecy  unfolded* 
is  a  trait  seldom  surpassed  in  the  history  <^  boyhood." 

It  caa  hardly  escape  the  notice  of  any  one  who  but  glances  at 
ibis  voluine^  that  the  aathor  is  a  Napier  of  the  same  race  with  that 
of  the  celebrated  philosopher  whose  life  he  has  undertaken  to  give 
'£edrly ;  and  that  it  would  be  an  offence  no  less  heinous  to  claim  an 
'«nan^ioriKed  alliance  with  the  house  of  Merchiston^  than  to  deny^ 
«s  we  find  Anthony  Wood  approaches  to  do^  (though  without  any 
liking  like  safficient  grounds)  that  his  ancestor  waa  the  inventor  of  * 
logarithms.  But  the  Scottish  philosopher's  name  is  something 
greater  than  the  king  can  confer,  nor  does  it  require  the  fiilsonie 
phraseology  of  kindred  to  force  it  at  every  turn  into  the  ears  of  the 
present  generation^  which  we  have  never  understood  to  be  reluctant 
m  awaroing  him  his  due  meed  of  praise  and  honour.  The  follow- 
ing mode  of  bolstering  a  celebrated  man^  is  not  according  to  an 
amiable  principle^  or  one  that  takes  pride  in  the  illustrious  names 
of  his  father-land.  We  are  confident  it  is  not  such  as  the  inven- 
tor of  the  logarithms  would  have  countenanced.  At  any  rate^ 
George  Buchanan  will  still  be  boasted  of  in  Scotland  by  every 
scholar^  for  his  erudition^  his  elegant  Latin  prose^  and  Latin 
poetry: — 

"  We  have  now  to  name  the  man  whom  contemporary  eulogists  were 
most  apt  to  select  as  b. pendant  to  Napier;  and  that  is  the  popular  Bucha- 
nan, who  became  principal  of  St.  Leonard's  Ccdlege  in  1567.  'The  intel- 
lectual endowments  of  George  Buchanan/  says  Dr.  Irving,  'reflect  the 
higheiBt  splendour  on  the  land  of  his  nativity  ;  and  every  scholar  who  de- 


7d^  MmMtrg  of  John  Naplkr, 

lives  his  origin  from  the  eame  co\intry  \b  bound  to  Perish  And  revere  lot 
memory. * — '  The  history  of  Buchanan  is  the  hfetory  of  an  individihid  mlt^^ 
T^led  in  modern  times.'  There  is  some  exaggeration  in  this  estimate.  It 
is  what  may  he  said  of  Napier,  but  not  of  Buchanan.  He  ranks  high  m 
t^e  learning  of  his  country  ;  but  to  render  the  praise  of  hisbiograpber  nob 
hyperbolicsd,  the  heart  of  Buchanan  ought  to  have  been  purer,  and  hii  \SttA 
more  profound. '  Blackwood  says  of  him  with  g^eat  truth,  t&st  he  wat 
*  hoTtame  ingrat,  et  dislo3ral ;'  and  when  we  examine  his  conA^ff  and  hsm 
writings  in  reference  to  the  history  of  Queen  Mary,  with  the  aid  of  tbdse 
proofe  which  hav6  been  collected  within  these  &w  years,  to  fllastmte  that 
unhappy  page  of  our  history,  no  iiiipartial  mind  can  come  to  aiUy  otfter  oon^ 
cfasion,  than  that  Buchanan  was  a  rogue.  His  admirers  faiwe  e^Anned  for 
him  an  apotheosis  with  the  eloqu«iit  and  elegant  Liry :  but  he  may  fhn} 
himselt^ — under  She  fiat  of  eternal  justice — ^nearer  the  reprobate  Srilost.  Xn 
popular  esthnation  his  name  ie  much  more  identified  with  ^e  evudilioa  «l 
hk  country  than  Napier's.  Our  philosopher  has  acquired  With  the  vnlgat 
the  equivocal  status  in  letters  of  a  warlock ;  but  there  are  men  in  our  ooBr» 
times  of  considerable  literary  attainments,  who  will  afford  him  nahigher  piuise 
than  the  srreer  of  lago '  forsooth  a  great  arithmetician.' — '  Napier»'  says  an 
aafho*  6f  historical  celebrity,  '  has  much  m<»rit,  but  cannot  Stand  in  the 
rank  of  great  inventors.  He  is  only  a  \xi(^xx\  abbreviator  of  a  particular 
branch  of  the  mathematics.'  Sir  David  Brewster  (or  the  writer  be  em- 
ployed) ransacked  his  memory  to  record  the  names  of  those  whose  ^teaarf 
atchievcments  illustrate  Scotland,  and  forgot  only  John  Nupfer.  Dot  had 
he  omitted  the  name  of  George  Buchanan,  tfee  very  printers-  devils  wbaM 
have  mobbed  the  disciple  of  Newton  up  the  streets  of  Modern  Atbeoif. 

**  Thejpure^  pedes^  of  Buchanan's  fame  is  his  Latin  poetry.  Thus,  it 
is  not  dimcult  to  determine  the  respective  grades  in  letters  of  James^  peda^' 
gogne  and  Scotland's  philosopher.  We  shall  show  that  Napiier  surpasaed 
Archimedes  in  logistic,  and  emulated  him  in  mechanics.  Does  Buchanan 
rival  Horace  in  rhyme  ?  " 

There  is  a  ransacking  for  authorities  to  establish  this  illiberaToiHQion^ 
whidi  in  such  a  turbulent  period  as  is  referred  to,  and  regardinjg; 
SQch  a  conspicuoua  man  as  king  James's  tutor  was,  one  naturally 
must  have  expected  to  be  much  more  abundant  than  the  author 
has  been  i^le  to  bring  forwards  But  let  us  see  the  utmost  that 
can  be  advanced  against  him^  whose  disparagement  our  author 
seems  to  consider  necessary  to  the  upholding  of  Napier : — 

**  The  distinction  of  their  moral  characters  is  yet  more  marked :  being 
that  betwixt  an  unprincipled  partisan,  and  a  Christian  philosopher.  While 
the  learned  in  our  own  timed  laboor  to  give  us  fanciful  portraits  of  Budia* 
nan,  we  have  one  of  him  drawn  from  the  life  by  Napier's  relative.  Sir 
James  Melville,  upon  every  line  of  whose  simple  portraiture  the  stainp  of 
truth  is  Impressed.  '  Bot  Mester  George  was  a  stoik  philosopher,  and 
looked  not  far  before  tHe  hand  ;  a  man  of  notable  qualites  for  his  tecmy- 
ing  and  knawledge  in  latin  poesie,  mekle  maid  accompt  of  in  other  confr^es, 
plaisant  in  company,  rehersing  at  all  occasions  mor^ities  schort  and  feefoi, 
whereof  he  had  aboundance,  and  invented  wher  he  wanted.  He  vhw  tflso 
of  gud  religion /or  a  poet ;  bot  he  was  easely  abused,  and  M  faoiH  that  he 
was  led  with  any  company  that  he  hanted  for  the  tym,  <fiihilk  maid  him 
factious  in  his  auld  dayes ;  for  he  spak  cmd  wret  as  th^y  th«^  wer  Iteot 


bim  £09  the  tymiolcniYined him;  iox  Wvaa  fa«cQm  tkat  deperieaadourles, 
aad  followed  in  maay  thingis  the  vulgar  oppinion ;  for  he  was  naturally 
p^pulaire,  and  extrem  vengeable  against  any  man  tiiat  had  ofiendit  bim, 
qiihiik  wa&  his  gretest  fait.'  Other  cousins  pf  our  philosopher  were  in 
daily  ccmverse  with  Buchanan.  The  Lady  Mar  and  her  brother  TuUibax- 
dioe  had  the  especial  charge  of  King  James  in  his  youth.  At  this  time« 
a99S  Melville,  the  king  '  had  for  prindpall  preceptouris,  Mester  George  oi 
Bochwennej^,  and  Mester  Peter  Young,  &cJ  '  My  Lady  Mar  was  wysf^ 
and  schaixp  and  held  the  king  in  great  awe ;  and  sa  did  Mester  George 
Buchwhennen.'  Thus  the  family  of  Merchiston  must  have  been  well 
kiiown  to  James's  pedagogue,  though  probably  the  eontrariety  of  their 
habits^  mocal  and  intellectual,  kept  bim  and  the  philosopher  always  sepa- 
rate." 

We  pass  over  our  author's  acoount  and  theory  of  Niqnier's  traTek, 
and  itttercoarse  with  aome  of  the  moat  renowned  Hugonota  of 
Ptaiicey  to  quote  a  few  of  the  gossiping  passages  of  the  Tolume^  of 
a  Tndte  hoin^  cbaraeter,  which  we  doubt  not  will  be  thought  also 
more  attractive  reading : — 

"  If  Napier  encountered  perils  abroad,  he  certainly  escaped  one  of  a 
deadly  nature  at  home.  In  the  year  1568,  (exactly  a  century,  befpre 
I^ewton  was  driven  from  Cambridge  by  the  plague  which  then  ravaged 
Englai^d),  a  most  £earful  infliction  of  pestilence  broke  out  in  £^hurgh» 
The  courts  of  justice  were  closed,  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Church 
ppatfyined,  and  the  very  literature  of  the  country  threatened  with  annihi- 
lation.  Sir  Archibald  Napier  and  his  family  were  much  exposed  to  the 
cpntagion,  by  the  vicinity  of  his  mansion  to  the  '  Borough  Muir'  of  the 
oty,  upo|i  whidb  waste  the  poorer  class  of  those  infected  were  driven  out 
to.g^vel  and  die,  under  the  very  walls  of  Merchiston.  At  this  very  time 
Sir  Archibald  was  not  suffered  to  quit  the  Lothians.  Mary's  defeat  at 
Langside  had  just  occurred,  and  the  regency  of  her  brother  was  securing 
the  fruits  of  victory  by  a  rigorous  surv^llance  of  the  baronial  strongholds, 
and  die  conduct  and  affections  of  their  proprietors,  throughout  the  whole 
country.  All  Protestant  as  he  was,  and  although  even  his  cousins  Tulli- 
batfine  and  Grange  had  been  in  arms  upon  this  occasion  against  the  fugi- 
tive queen,  it  is  not  surprising  that  Merchiston,  whose  immediate  prede- 
cessors had  ftdien  successively  under  her-^itiier^s  standard  and  her  own^ 
should  bore  emoed  some  affection  for  the  persecuted,  and  only  legitimate 
child  of  James  V.  That  tlus  was  the  case  is  proved  by  the  bond  quoted 
below,  the  terms  of  which  compelled  Merchiston  to  remain  a  prisoner  in 
Bdinburgh,  or  within  two  miles  of  it,  under  heavy  securities.  When  the 
ids^ie  bfoke  out,  he  appears  to  have  petitioned  the  privy-council  of  the 
regent  for  some  relaxation,  which  had  been  refused  in  the  most  peremptory 
ipa<iuer»  although  his  brother-in-law,  the  Bishop  of  Orkney,  was  one  of 
that  council,  and  apparently  anxious  to  befriend  him.  The  following  let- 
ter, than  which  a  more  curious  and  interesting  remnant  of  the  kind  could 
scarcely  be  produced,  was  written  in  consequence  by  the  prelate  to  our 
philosopher's  father : — 

**  *  To.  the  Richt  Honorabill  and  our  well  belovit  Brother  the  Laird 
off  Merchanstoun. 
*' '  Richt  Honorabill  Schir  and  Bruther, — I  haird  the  day  the  rigorous 
answer  andrefuis  that  ye  gat,  quhairof  I  wes  not  wele  apayit ;  hot  sdwayis 


3d8  JUemoirM  of  J^hn  Ntq^. 

I  pray  you,  aa  ye  ar  sett  amiddb  betwte  twa  grete  incotHFeoie^tiA,  trnvofi- 
to  eschew  them  baith  :  the  aue  is  maist  evident,  to  wit,  the  remftiniiig  jq- 
your  an  in  placo  quhair  ye  ar;  for  be  the  nummer  of  seik  folk  that  gaia  . 
out  of  the  touQ,  the  muir  is  abill  to  be  overspred,  and  it  can  not  be  bol> 
throw  the  nearness  of  your  place,  and  the  indigence  of  thame  that  are  pat 
out,  thai  sail  continewallie  repair  abontte  your  roume,  and  throu  their  con* 
versatioun,  infect  some  of  your  servandis,  quhairby  thai  sail  precipitet 
yourself  and  your  children  in  maist  extreem  danger ;  and,  as  I  se,  ye  fael 
foirsene  the  same  for  the  young  folk,  quhais  bluid  is  in  maist  penreli  to  Ve 
infectit  first,  and  therefoir  purposis  to  send  thame  away  to  Menteith, 
quhair  I  wald  wiss  at  God  that  ye  war  yourself,  without  oifence  of  author* 
itie,  or  of  your  band,  sua  that  your  houss  get  na  akaith.  Bot  yet,  Schir, 
their  is  ane  midway  quhilk  ye  suld  not  omit,  quhilk  is  to  withdraw  yon  6« 
that  syid  of  the  toun  to  sum  houss  upon  t^e  north  ayid  of  tiie  aamia 
quairof  ye  may  hef  in  borrowing  quhen  ye  sail  hef  to  do,  to  wit,  the  QtBj 
Cruik,  Innerlethis  self.  Weirdie,  or  sic  uther  places  as  ye  culd  ohoae  widuD 
ane  myle ;  quhairinto  I  wald  suppois  ye  wsild  be  in  lea  danger  tliaa  im. . 
Mcrchanstoun :  and  close  up  your  houssis,  your  grangis,  your  bamis  tmA 
all,  and  suifer  na  man  cum  therin,  quhill  it  plesit  God  to  put  ane  stay  t» 
this  gretc  plege,  and  in  the  mein  tyme,  maid  you  to  leve  upon  your  peaar^ 
or  on  sic  thing  as  comis  to  you  out  of  the  Lennos  or  Menteith ;  qahift^ 
gif  ye  do  not,  I  se  ye  will  mine  yourself ;  and  howbeit  I  escape  in  tliis 
wayage,  I  will  nevir  luik  for  to  se  you  again,  quhilk  war  some  mair  regret 
to  me  than  I  will  expreme  be  writing.  Alwayis  besekis  you,  as  you  litif* 
your  awin  wele,  the  wele  ef  your  hous,  and  us  your  friendis  tliat  wald 
your  wele,  to  tak  sum  order  in  this  behalf,  that  howbeit  your  evillfevotvrii 
wald  east  away,  yit  ye  tak  better  keip  upon  yourself,  and  mak  not  them  to 
rejoice,  and  us  your  freindis  to  iaume  baith  at  ania ;  quhilk  God  foflad, 
and  for  his  guidnes  preserve  you  and  your  posteride  from  sic  skaitJ^  and* 
mainteine  you  in  holie  keping  for  evlr.  Of  Edr  this  xxi  day  of  Septem-* 
ber,  be 

*• '  Your  Bruther  at  power,  the 

"  *  BiSCHOP   OFF   ObKNAT.'  " 

In  some  of  the  late  numbers  of  this  Journal  we  have  had  oocasioB 
to  consider  at  length  the  darker  superstitions  of  Scotland^  and  tbe 
general  history  of  necromancy.  From  what  is  there  set  down,  it 
cannot  be  matter  of  much  wonder  to  find  that  the  sin^e^hearted 
Napier,  exemplary  man  and  profound  theologian^  as  he  undoubtedly 
was,  spent  not  his  days  and  nights  in  abtruse  study^  without  &lling 
under  the  suspicion  of  having  a  familiar  spirit,  at  a  period  when 
the  mass  of  mankind  distinguished  not  between  the  pursuit  and 
discoveries  of  science,  and  the  supposed  alliance  formed  by  mar-* 
tals^  with  superhuman  powers,  for  imhallowed  purposes.  The  fol- 
lowing extract  refers  to  what  was  not  many  years  ago,  to  our  knaw« 
ledge,  by  no  means  a  rare  fire-side  tale  in  the  vicinity  of  E^din- 
burgh : — 

**  There  is  this  remarkable  circumstance  in  his  history,  that  while  he 
possessed  tbe  respect  and  confidence  of  the  most  able  and  Chnstiau  pas* 
tors  of  the  Reformed  Church,  and  while  he  was  looked  up  to  and  consulted 
by  the  General  Assembly,  of  which  he  was  for  years  a  mcmbair,  he  was  at 


Mmairi  tf  John  Napitf.  S99^ 

tbtf  TOtai€Ptitti«  regavde^,  and  not  merely  by  the  vulgar,  as  one  who  poe« 
sesftM-eeflain  powers  of  darkness,  the  very  character  of  which  was  in  those 
days  dangerous  to  Ute  possessor.  Traditions  to  this  effect  might  be  met 
wi^  in  the  cottages  and  nurseries  m  and  about  the  metropolis  of  Scotland 
nolTtofediy  years  ago ;  and  the  msrvels  attributed  to  our  philosopher,  with 
the  sdd  of  a  jet-black  cock,  supposed  to  be  a  familiar  spirit  bound  to 
him  VBL  that  shape,  hare,  within  the  memory  of  the  present  generation, 
been  naarrated  by  the  old,  and  listened  to  by  the  young.  We  cannot  help 
8U8|)^otmg  that  the  legend  of  the  black  cock  is  in  some  way  connected  with 
th&heri^tary  office  of  king's  poulterer  (^Pultria  Regis)  ^  for  many  genera- 
tions in  the  family  of  Merchiston,  and  which  descended  to  John  Napier. 
This  office  is  repeatedly  mentioned  in  the  family  charters  as  appertaining 
to  the  '  ptdtre  %ndm*  hard  by  the  Tillage  of  Dene,  in  the  shire  of  Linlith- 
gow, The  duties  were  to  be  performed  by  the  possessor  or  his  deputies ; 
and  the  king  was  entitled  to  demand  the  yearly  homage  of  a  present  of 
pocdtry  from  Uie  feudal  holder.  It  is  not  improbable  that  our  philosopher 
made  a  pet  of  some  jetty  chanticleer,  which  he  cherished  as  the  badge  of 
his'OlBce,  and  as  worthy  of  being  presented  to  the  king,  sipetaiur.  If  so, 
thefe  ean  be  little  doubt  that  in  those  days  it  would  pass  for  a  spirit.'' 

The  first  part  of  this  work,  from  which  alone  we  select  a  few 
paragraphs^  nas  led  the  author  into  such  researches  as  have  opened 
up  to  him  several  curious  passages  of  Scottish  Jiiistory;  the  follow- 
ing gives  a  sad  but  no  doubt  descriptive  picture  of  the  times.  The 
J^m  Graham  of  Hallyards  spoken  of,  succeeded  Sir  Alexander 
NajNUBK,  the  father  of  the  philosopher,  as  justice-d^Mite  to  the  Earl 
of  Argyle ;  and  some  years  afterwards,  was  advanced  to  die  sitoa- 
tion  wS  m  Lord  of  Session : — 

•*-David  Moyse  the  notary,  who  has  left  a  very  curious  journal  of  his 
times,  records,  that  in  June  1590, '  The  Lordis  of  S^ioun  wer  intendid 
to  be  altered,  and  sum  accusatioun  past  betwiz  Mr.  John  Grahame  and 
Mr.  David  M'Gill,  baithe  Lordis  of  the  Sessioun,  ather  of  thame  accus- 
ing utheris  of  bryberie  and  kneaverie.'  But  he  afterwards  became  in- 
volved in  a  matter  yet  more  serious,  and  which  proved  fatal  to  him. 
The  estate  of  Hallyards  consisted  of  temple  lands,  which  Graham  had 
obtained  throuffh  his  wife,  the  widow  of  Sir  Jame^  Sandilands  of  Galder. 
That  lady  held  them  upon  a  title  granted  by  her  first  husband,  whose 
tenants  in  those  lands  had  a  prefexuble  right  of  possession.  To  defeat 
thi^.  a  deed  was  forged  by  a  notary,  at  the  suggestion  of  William  Graham, 
a  brother  of  the  Lord  of  Session,  by  which  it  was  made  to  appear  that  these 
tenants  had  yielded  their  preferable  right;  and  consequently,  they  were 
cast  in  an  action  raised  to  establish  it.  But  the  forgery  was  discovered, 
and  the  notary  hanged ;  upon  which  Mr.  John  Graham  raised  another 
action  agunst  the  minister  of  Sterling,  who,  he  alleged,  had  extorted  a 
felse  confession  from  the  unfortunate  notary.  This  proceeding  brought  the 
General  Assembly  of  the  Church  and  the  Court  of  Session  into  violent 
collision.  The  Assembly  cited  Graham  to  appear  before  it,  and  answer 
for  his  scandalagainst  the  church.  The  Court  of  Session  stood  up  for  the 
independence  of  their  own  jurisdiction  and  members ;  and  sent  their  pre- 
sident. Lord  Provand,  with  the  Lords  Calruss  and  Bambarrach,  as  a  depu- 
tation to  the  ecclesiastical  court,  (Usclaiming  the  Assembly's  right  to  inter- 


900  limMir^  o/  J^hn^Hagm 

f ere  ia  tlui  uatt^c    Balk  jurMdi^Hooa  were  dMdiiate»jMd  tfi»di^)«to  Wtts 
quasbed  without  bei&g  pco^xlj  a4ju:sted.  The  reauk  was,  that  the.  teaeiite 
^  the  temple  lands  pursued  the  young^heir  of  the  original  proprielor, 
\rhose  tutor  and  uncle.  Sir  James  Sandilands,  took  up  the  matter  with  all 
the  vindictive  violence  of  the  times.    The  Duke  of  Lennox  lent  his  power- 
ful aid:  and,  says  Calderwood,  'upon  Tuesday^  I3th  February,  1593, 
Mr.  John  Graham  of  Halljarda  went  out  of  Bdinhorgh  lowaid»  LcBtb. 
being  chaiged  to  departe  off  the  toua.     The  Duke-  and  Sir  James  Sandi- 
lan£  following  as  it  were,  with  clubs  in  their  hands*  ajud  coning  dowa 
Leith  Wynd»  one  of  Mr^  John's  company  looked  back,  and  seeiiig  tbcaa^ 
they  tumed  to  make  resistance.    The  Duke  sent  and  willed  them  to  ^^ 
forward,  promising  no  man  ^ould  invade  them ;  yet  Mr«  John  GrabanL's 
company  shot,  whereupon  the  Duke  suffered  Sir  James  and  his  compaaj 
to  do  for  themselves.    Mr.  John  was  shot ;  his  company  £led  before  ever 
be  was  carried  to  a  house.     Sir  Alexander  Stuart's  page,  a  French  boyv 
seeing  his  master  (Sir  Alexander)  slain,  followed  Mr.  John  GbrahankJalo 
tlie  house,  dowped  a  whinger  into  him,  and  so  dispatched  him.    BeioPi  this 
encoimtex*  Mr.  John  was  accompanied  with  three  or  four  score/    The 
tragic  end  of  this  unhappy  Lord  of  Session  affords  a  curious  picture  of  the 
times,  and  shows  that  our  philosopher  acted  wisely  in  his  endeavours  to 
preveiit  cummer  in  such  matters,  and  in  his  anxiety  to  *  mell  with  na  sik 
extraordinar  doingi^/    Probably  Yds  letter  is  of  a  date  long  previous  to  the 
death  of  Omham,  and  it  may  be  before  the  latter  was  elevated  ftDin  hiv 
jtfSticesbip  to  the  bench.    Perhaps  the  deed  quoted  a  reference  to  tbe 
period  wtoi  John  Napier  encovatered  such  perilous  disputes  in  the  nta^ 
nagettieBt  of  his  liber's  estate.    The  autographs  will  interest  the  reader. 
The  royal  signature  is  of  James  VL  while  he  was  yet  a  yovth.    ThwJt  of 
Montrose  is  of  the  grandfather  of  the  lady  who  be<»me  the  wife  of  JfAn 
Napier's  eldest  son«  and  was  th&  sister  of  ^e  great  marquis.    He  was  hif^h 
chuicellor  and  viceroy  of  Scotland  after  James  succeeded  to  the  thxo^e  of 
Bngland.    As  for  the  signature  of  Morton,  the  right  hand  that  traced  it 
is  recorded  in  blood.  '  The  Lord  Maxwell*  a  celebrated  border  noble,  ob- 
tained a  grant  of  the  earldom  of  Morton  (upon  the  fall  of  the  regcat)  ia 
the  year  1581,  of  which,  however,  he  was  deprived  a  few  years  afterwiaida* 
A  deadly  feud  arose  betwixt  the  Maxwells  and  the  Johnstonea;  and  m 
the  celebrated  battle  fought  betwixt  them»  the  Lord  Maxwell  or  Morto% 
being  borne  to  the  ground,  stretched  out  his  right  hand  for  quarter,  but  it 
was  mstantly  severed  firom  his  body.     In  the  meanwhile,  a  certain  feudal 
lady  of  the  Johnstone  clan  issued  from  a  faxnily  fortress,  (whidi  slh^  had 
Valiantly  defended^,  attended  by  a  single  female,  and  with  the  keys  of  tlie 
tower  banging  on  ner  arm.     On  the  field  of  batde  '  she  saw  lying  beneath 
a  thorn-tree,  a  tall,  grey-haired,  noble>looking  man»  arrayed  la.  bri|^»t 
armour,  but  bare-headed,  and  bleeding  to  death  from  the  loss  oi  hia  ri^^ht 
hand.     He  asked  her  for  mercy  and  help  with  a  faltering  voice ;  but  ihe 
idea  of  deadly  feud,  in  that  time  and  country,  closed  all  access  to  oompa»- 
sion  even  in  the  female  bosom.     She  saw  before  her  only  the  enemy  of 
her  clan  and  the  cause  of  her  father's  captivity  and  death :  and- raising  tte 
ponderous  keys  which  she  bore  along  with  her,  the  Ladjf  of  Lockerhf  -S* 
commonly  reported  to  have  dashed  out  the  brains  of  liia  vanquished  Loni 
Maxwell.*     Such,  gentle  reader,  were  the  characters  and  habits  of  Lorda 
of  Session,  noblemen,  and  ladies,  in  the  times  •of  pur  philosopher. 


with  ibtey  ol  ^faMn',  aot^ldllAir Aidkig  the  qiuet^  etad  8tii4w«ar  r^tirMMfti 
oi  hm  own  habits,  ke  nost  have  come  i&to  occasional  ooAtaot." 

'  Ther  defeat  of  the  Spanish  Armada  s^  thiotcfoig  tmn  %0'  don-' 
aider  of  the  eaucre  of  sach  a  marvellous  escape  for  the  Britisk  xm«' 
tiQQ ;  and  whilst  many  ascribed  the  deliverance  to  the  power  of 
magic,  more  enlightened  and  pious  minds,  sneh  as  Napier's,  of 
course  traced  it  to  the  counsels  of  the  Almighty.  This  event,  in- 
deed)  seems  to  have  led  to  the  publication  of  his  profound  work  on 
the  Apocalypse,  at  least  at  an  earlier  date  than  ne  had  previously 
contemplated  :— 

"  file  mind  of  Napier  was  particularly  agitated  upon  this  occasion.  He 
had  been  long  brooding  over  the  depths  of  the  Apocalypse,  and  began-  to 
perceive  a  divine  Tight  breaking  upon  bis  hitherto  obscure  lucubratioas. 
The  sequel  I  shall  give  in  his  own  words  :  'Then/  says  he,  'greatly  re- 
joycing  in  the  Lord,  I  began  to  write  thereof  iil  Latin ;  yet  I  purposed  not 
t6  hs^e  set  out  the  same  suddenly,  and  far  lesse  tor  hav^  Written  tfire  same 
alsd  in  Ehglish,  ^1  that  of  late,  this  new  insolenoie  of  Papists,  arising' 
about  the  15S8  yeaif  of  Ood,  toid  dayly  incresi^  within  this  iltind,  ddth 
so  pitie  our  hearts,  seeiitf  tiiem  ptit  more  trust  in  Jesuittis  atid  setninarie 
priests  than  in  the  true  Scriptures  of  God,  and  in  the  Pope  and  Kivg.  of 
Spaine  than  in  the  King  of  Kings,  thdt  to  pretient  the  »dme,  I  was  eon* 
strairfed  of  compassion,  leaving  the  Latin,  to  haste  out  in  Eug^llsh  this 
present  work^,  almost  unripe,  that  thereby  the  simple  of  this  ii^atd  ma/ 
be  instructed,  the  godly  confirmed,  and  the  proud  and  foalish  expecta- 
tioiis  of  the  wicked  beaten  downe ;  purposing  hereafter,  God  willing,  to» 
pnbBsh  shortly  the  other  Latin  edition  hereof,  to  the  public  utilitie  of 
the  whole  chureh/  One  great  object  was  to  awaken  and  alarm  the  con- 
stnetice  of  king  James,  whose  duplicity  and  inconsistent  coaduct  hai&s^ed 
tRc  ChurcR  at  home  while  beset  by  pcxwerful  enemies  from  abraa(f .  Ottf 
pldlosopher  proposed,  therefore,  to  address  his  commentaries  to  tliat' 
prfnce'  wit^^och  a  solemn  warning  as  the  times  suggested,  nh4  hk  ma^ 
j^My's  cQ^nduet  seemed  to  tequive.  But  ia  the  begkktting  of  Ibir  winter 
158$,  iames  was  absent  on  bis  matrimonial  expedition  t*  DaviiiMltv 
When  he  returned  with  his  consort,  in  the  fbllowiog  year,  be  Ibund  efuif 
department  of  his  government  unusually  tranqail,  owing  ehieiy  to  the  j«idi«- 
cions  management  of  the  affairs  of  the  Church  by  Robert  Bruce  of  Akth, 
aided  in  his  exertions  by  such  laymen  as  John  Napier  and  Thomas 
Crai^  of  Hiccarton,  who  were  at  the  same  time  members  of  the  General 
Assembly.  The  whole  country  now  became  engrossed  with  the  ceremony 
of  the  coronation,  and  great  cordiality  prevailed  betwixt  the  Church  and 
the  court.  James  Was  submissfive  to  his  clergy,  and  the  clergy  played 
the  part  of  courtiers  as  welf  as  they  could." 

Wath  these  specimens  our  readers  may  form  tolerable  correet 
notions  of  the  spirit  and  stjle  of  this  volume.  We  have  before 
nientioned  what  appeared  to  us  to  be  its  character,  as  r^^ds  the 
part  which  the  author  has  performed^  in  dealing  with  th&  valuable 
snbiect  and  materials  subject  to  his  hand.  And  we  conclude  by 
saying,  that,  itotwithstanding  his  aristocratic  prejudices,  his  la- 
bour^ bei^lties  and  timartnesses,  and  sometimes  unnecessary,  nay, 


SOS  franc0,  Social,  Liieraty,  Polkkai* 

enfeebling  ethtU  to  enlarge  the  fame  of  tlie  inventor  of  logfoititina, 
who  has  long  held  a  niche  in  the  most  prominent  part  of -the  teuipfe' 
of  science^  his  work  will  add  to  the  iaJne  of  Scottish  genftts,  whilst 
it  extends  the  knowledge  of  her  family  and  national  memoins. 


Art.  II. — France,  Social,  Literary,  Political,    By  Henry  Lytton  Bul^ 
wer,  Esq.,  M.  P.   2  vols.  8vo.     London :  fientley,  1834. 

Ip  Henry  Lytton  Bulwer  possess  not  the  master  power  as  a  writer,i 
which  has  raised  his  brother  to  such  a  distinguished  station  amongst 
the  authors  of  the  present  day,  his  manner  is  less  self-suf&cient>.hia 
self-confidence  less  obtrusive.  Indeed,  it  is  evident  from  the  intro* 
duction  to  the  work  before  us,  that  he  ventures  before  the  public 
with  very  considerable  doubt  and  fear  upon  his  mind ;  for  he  there 
solicits  the  indulgence  of  readers  and  critics  in  a  way  that  would 
almost  lead  us  to  charge  liim  with  a  weakness  incompatable  mth 
superior  qualifications.  A  pretty  accurate  estimate  and  firm  asser- 
tion of  one's  talent,  we  think  is  generally  essential,  and  characteriatie 
of  the  possession  of  what  is  above  mediocrity.  Still  Henry  L« 
Bulwer  is  particularly  situated.  He  must  feel  that  the  very  name  he 
bears  raises  obstacles  in  his  way  to  a  just  appreciation  of  his  talents; 
for  his  brother*s  established  popularity  will  ever  be  ready  to  lead 
the  reader  to  disparaging  comparisons ;  so  that  should  he  write  a 
book  even  twice  as  able  and  good  as  any  that  Edward  has  dona^.s^ 
the  public  will  be  apt  to  deny  him  his  fiill  right,  and  to  admit  Hiry  \^% 
to  the  station  of  an  imitator;  especially  will  this  be  the  case  in  aocli 
awork  as  the  present :  for  **  England  and  the  English,"  has  had  i|ie 
precedence.  As  he  himself  says,  the  nature  of  the  two  works  in 
some  degree  are  assimilated,  so  that,  when  they  diflfer^  it  may  be 
thought  a  censure  is  conveyed  in  the  present,  and  where  they  agreat, 
that  it  merely  is  an  imitation.  We  shall  endeavour,  howevel^  todt^test 
ourselves  entirely  of  any  unfair  feelings  and  of  all  prejudices,  and  to 
judge  of  "  France,  Social,  Literary^  and  Political,"  as  here  rapte- 
sented,  entirely  and  singly  upon  its  own  merits. 

Our  first  remark  is  what  will  naturally  occur  to  every  man,  on  the 
more  announcement  of  the  title-^that  it  is  a  mighty  and  boundles 
field,  in  relation  to  one  man,  which  the  author  has  proposed  to  tra^ 
verse  and  disclose.  Indeed,  any  one  of  the  branches  would  be  a  sub- 
ject too  extensive  for  the  compass  of  two  such  volumes  as  those, 
were  a  fiill  and  particular  detail  attempted  to  be  given.  The  au- 
thor, however,  is  perfectly  aware  of  this,  and  defers  to  succeeding 
volumes  which  he  purposes  to  publish,  a  fiiller  development  of  his 
subjects.  And  here  we  shall  merely  state,  that  it  will  be  with  im- 
patience we  wait  for  their  appearance,  from  the  satis&ction  those 
before  us  have  conferred.  But  when  we  say  that  no  moderate  labour 
can  possibly  give  a  minute  exhibition  of  the  materials  falling  under 
any  one  of  the  heads  set  down  in  this  work,  we  are  only  taking  a 
very  inaccurate  way  of  judging  of  all  such  efforts.     For*  should  it 


F)ranee^  Social^  Lit^ary^  PolUkaL  90S 

ttfen  oat  tkat  tlie  aotbor  htta  fionighed  110  with  oerUoo  w«H  defined 
keys  or  indices  vith  which  we  can  afterwaids  proceed  of  our- 
selves  .to  ezidore  mod  understand,  he  has  done  better  than  bur* 
den  us  with  a  heap  of  less  interesting  matter.  And  such,  in  one 
senjtence^  is  the  character  and  valuable  feature  of  Mr.  Henry  Bul- 
wer*s  France,  if  we  may  judge  from  the  vantage  ground  which  he 
has  enabled  us  to  gain,  in  viewing  the  various  conditions  and  rela- 
tk>ns  of  France ;  *^  France  as  France  is — ^not  only  France  serious, 
but  France  gay."  He  thought  that  such  a  work  might  be  useful, 
as  he  teQs  us,  as  well  as  interesting;  but  that«  to  make  it  useful  and 
interesting,  he  found  it  necessary  to  make  it  amusing ;  and  all  this 
too^  we  say  he  has  generally  succeeded  in  accomplishing.  But 
our  readers  must  judge  for  themselves,  as  we  shall  enable  them  to  do 
ijfdm  a  pretty  liberal  presentation  of  extracts. 

'¥rom  a  Temarkablv  lucid  analysis  of  the  statistics  and  other 
general  branches  of  tne  national  power  and  charactar,  given  in  an 
introductory  form,  for  the  more  easv  and  ready  comprehension  of 
what  follows  in  the  body  of  the  work,  take  this  as  one  of  the  spe- 
cimens of  what  may  be  called  the  usefol  part : — 

.  *'  The  extent  of  France  from  north  to  souths  from  Dunkirk  to  Perpignan, 
is  575  French  miles ;  its  breadth  from  east  to  west,  from  Strasbourg  to 
Brest,  is  499  French  miles :  its  total  superficies  dhout  53,000,000  hec- 
tares*; its  population  in  1833,  32,560,934  inhabitantsf.  This  population 
is  divided  between  the  towns  and  the  country  in  the  following  manner :— - 

3(^,384  little  communes  contain  ...  23,725^809  inhab. 

1,620  towns,  from  1,500  to  50,000  inhab.  contain    -      7,209,855 
'    8  great  cities,  varying  from  59,000  inhab.  to 

i        nearS00,000t  1,625,270 

SD.tiiat  23,725,809  may  be  considered  the  agricultural  population,  and 
8»ft35wl25  tlie  population  devoted  to  other  purBuit»-*-a  result  entirely  differ- 
enl  from  that  wluoh  the  population  of  Great  Britain  gives  us§. 

*  An  beoUre  is  eqtoal  to  two  acres,  0110  rood,  thirtj-tTV  tiro*tftfa  peitliM  English 


.f  In  Fra&ee  Uie  popnUtion  increases  every  sixteen  years  by  one-tenth.  Hie  proportion 
of  male  to  flsaialeliSrths  is  as  sixteen  to  fifteen,  and  not  as  twenty-two  to  twenty-one — a 
pfffaortlwi  anoieatly  established.  The  average  of  life  calculated  fifty  years  ago  at  twenty* 
0ight  j9KUf  is  now  oakulated  at  tUrty-llve, 

X  Bu^    .  •    774|S38 


tOTons 

Marseille 

BoBdeanx 

Rqnen 

Nantes     « 

liHe 

^tocdoaM 


392,370 
145,115 
104,467 


> 


1,6^,270 
7,909,855 
23,795,809 


39,650^934     TotaL 


88,076 
87,198 
69,073 
59,630 

§  IniKnghmd  aa  appearaby  the  census  of  1891 ; — 
1 1350»989  fisBilUea  eng^^ed  in  trade  and  mannfactore. 
978,656  In  agriculture. 

61 2,488  other  objects. 


S»941,98S  fiBmiUes. 

46  per  oeot  in  trade. 

S3  in  agricoltnral. 

91  other  pursuits. 


8M  t^n»,  9oMk  PsHUeal^  iAterm^. 

't%is4(ei  followed -op %  a^iittiift«*of  oAer  tables 4Biiid 
d!  most  caveMly  gathei^d  «nd  eonsid^red ;  by  ^Aiob  the 
Imp^ceptibly  is  led  to  compare  the  state  of  FcMnce  with  that 
of  Ekigflandm  a^ecrf;  variety  of  paitieukcsy  v^herefin  the  cKfecedit 
c^eifl  of  *(t)e  peoj^les"*  genius^  of  4!hdr  iasfatutions,  laws  and  Jialbita, 
Bsrt  pointedly  contr^usted ;  so  as  to  eirforce  ^SMti^y  the^octrkie  that 
fiotfhifig  eaB  be  more  preposterous  than  to  measure  the  emineBoe 
of  the  (Hie  nation  with  <^e  other^  by  any  special  or  nanrow  i»>incip]e 
of  comparison  or  contrast.  This  we  shall  be  the  .mpre  ^titrkingiy 
taught^  as  we  proceed  to  eonsidw  Epaace  and  -l^ie  French  tm  a 
great  variety  of  espects^  as  here  set  forrti  by  one  who«ha8<ev<iden1% 
had  many  oppoFtanities  of  studying  them^  and  to  nftiich  lie  lias 
long  devoted  bis  ewnest  attention. 

Mr.  Bulwer  sketches  with  consid^eflbile  power  tthe.entwice  into 
London  by  the  l^ames,  although  we  mustcsay,  the  descr^ilion  by 
4IO  means  .comes -up  to  what  we  fdt  the  first  time  we  thus  approadbed 
<be  great  Hiaai*t  of  tfihe  globe.  Sut  men  look  ^pon  die  same  4iilAg 
Hpd^  differ^it  lights^  and  -in  various  ways,  ^till,  our  simple  dbaer- 
vation,  as  regards  what  we  think  the  £uliu'e  in  .this  omening -Sketchy 
ileads  toithis  .oanclusion,  -that  in  all  attempts  .atgraiU]tic;aadM4'ik- 
4ng  pictures^  4he  artist  is  i^ -either  ito  itatte  an  inadequate,  or  no. 
inaccurate,  or  to  some  extent  an  indesoriptive  view  of-his^ubjadt, 
^and  tfaeiefore  intellect  leaves  a  false  representation -of  k.  iLet  us  md* 
tbrmfly  then  be  on  our  guard  not  to  repose  unlimited  confidence  in  re* 
presentaitions,  where  iuie  words/sparkling  -ideas,  and  laboured  aali-*- 
theses  have  mucb  more  engaged  the  mind  of  the- writer — upon  winch 
he  ha3  exercised  his  sportive  ingenuity  to  a  greater  extent,  than  in 
giving  a  |)rompt  and  easy  statement,  tKat  would  bejuuch  more  ni^oral, 
i^d  conse^fuently  ipuchi  more  intelligible  and  fair.  This,  bosr.ever,4s 
asking  a  great  ded— wbat,a  consummate  master  of  his  S]abject>  ^d 
^e^vith  a  full  reliance  upon:bi3  mastery  c^n  alone  piccomphsh — foul 
this  is  also  something  more  than  what  the  author  is  alwavs  eqq^l^tp. 
Accordingly,  although  the  following  paragraphs  aiw  no  aoubt  good, 
well  balanced  .ai\d  &o  forth,  we  suspect  jhey  convev  not  all  -that 
should  and  might  have  been  conveyed-«^DQt  ev.en  all  .that»tbe  {^uthpr 
laboured  to  exhibit*  In  short, /o^ouritig-r  AQid  that  somewhat  tm 
vaiuy  is  the  fault  we  find  with  him  here,  land  in  many  other  places. 

"  To  enter  Paris  with  ad  vantage  you  should  enter  it  by  the^OlnaBps  Elyw 
sees ;  visiting  for  the  first  time  tht:  cjopital  of  .a  military  nation,  you  Aould 
pass  under  the  arch  built  to  commraBorate  its  jreign  of  victories.  .Csmin^ 
to  dwell  among  the  most  gftyand>iigilt•4leart^dtpepple  in  the  universe*  yon 
ought  at  Once  to  I^l6h  upon  them  in  the  m^dat  of  :their  festivities.  lEnter 
P^s,  then  by  the  Champs  Kys^es'!  Hsm  asetfae  «o0aBiQtiteithat«peaic 
to  you  of  the  great  soldiers ;  4U9id  herc'the  '  gaiBgaettes'-tthatidi^kLy  to 
you  the  great  dancers  of  Europe.  You  i^iss  by  the  old  gardens  of  jBeaujoa ; 
you  find  the  '  caserne '  (and  this  tells  you  a  good  deal  c^  the  nation  yo>a 
are  come  to  visit)  intermingled  with  'cafigs '  and  '  salons  Utt^w^.;*  and 
you  see  the  chairs  under  the  trees,  and  the  ppen. spaces  \isSXfyT  the  ball ; 
and  if  you  stop  to  read  an  advertisenient,  it  viU^talk  of  the  '  Qbevaux  m^* 


\f  »d  erf  the  «Biiip««'a]id«feiie''Oooocit.te<3inB|M{^ 
<ifft/  >ad  tike  sun  .iliiBM^po&Uie  golden  aofwlA  offthe  atate^  kiiMiiidef, 
«Bd4m  llie  glktemgaecoutrevestB  of  like  savstenog  Wilier ;  aad  i)efbfe 
yott  jure  the  TnBtirieB»  whk  their  trees  and  t^races,  yAaxki  yonder  mk- 
placed  mofraoMxit  cannot  quite  cosceal':  and  to  your  sight  Ace  the  Aeane 
and  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  and  to  your  left  the  Corinthian  ardiitectuiie 
of  ^Mte  tall  palaces  thM  form  the  Rd  de  ftbioli.  I!he  triicolcmBed  fag 
ieats  from  ^e  gates  of  the  Royal  Gardens  i  the  nuUtey  imifQnn>  miicfi^ 
op  'with  the  coloimng  of  every  peadiD^  :gro\3p,  emiebee  it-withitSrdec^bliie 
•and  its  bright  scarlet ;  the  cnofement.  about  yoa  is  tuniversal :  «quip«^g^ 
of  tdl  kinds  are  passing  in  all  directions ;  the  movement  is  uniymal,  but 
differing  from  that  you  are  aecuatomed  t«>  in  Engtend, — ^tke  jmovemtejat  is 
the  moyement  of  idleness  and  of  pleasure  ;,an  indesoribflble  mirth  reigns aji 
all  you  see,  and  the  busy  gaiety  of  Paris  bursts  upon  you  with  the  same 
effect  astiie  glad  bri^tnese  of  Ihdy.  The  people,  too,  haye  all  the  habits 
id.  a  people ol  the  sun ;  they  are  not  tiie  people  of  one  stock-;  oolleetCKl  m 
every  crowd  are  l&e  features  and  the  feelings  of  divers  races  and  different 
regions.  In  Paris  you  are  not  in  the  vlimate  trf  Paris — l^remce  is  brought 
into  a  focus,  and  concentrated  in  the  capital  you  find  all  the  "VWEieties  ^at 
viviftr  the  many  provinces  of  the  kingdom.  Jt  is  this  ^n4iich  gives  a  city  of 
the  North  the  gracious  and  agreeable  aspeet  of  the  South,  and  transports 
^e  manners  that  are  legttimateto  the  olives  and  the  myrtles  of  Provenoe 
tx>  the  ehns  of  the  Champs  BIyslSes  and  the  Boulevards.  London  is  the 
city  of  t^e  Ei^glish,  as  Oonstantiaople  is  the  city  of  the  Turks.  P^nris  is  the 
city  of  tSurope  ;  it  unites,  more  than  any  city  in  the  world,  tlie^wants  of<a 
variety -of  classes,  tfae-habits  ofia  variety  of  people.  With  the -snow  you 
liafse'tilie  sledge  of  Bt  Petersburg ;  with'tite  summer  the  music,  the  nightly 
promenade,  the^c^,  the  lemoniKle,  and  .all — ^but  the  sea  and  the  skyef 
19i(ples. 

**  Oxford  Street  ^ves  t)nc  aspect  of  liondon,  'Regent  Street  another, 
tjie  'StxBi>d  another ;  but  the  Boulevards,  running  directly  through  Paris, 
£splay  the  character  of  the  toMrn  in  all  its  districts,  and  'the  ehfuracter  of 
.its  ipha^bitants  in  all  their  classes. 

"  -Go  from  the  Rue  Royaleto  ^e  site  of  the  oWBastiBe.  'You  first  pass 
by  those  zigzag  and  irregular  houses  thdt  jut  out  upon  the  old  rampart, 
.«nd  wliich  have  ralifaer  a  picturesque  appearance,  irom  the  g^  dttlie  ter- 
.lacesand  balconies,  which,  •when  these  is  a:iiay  of  mn,  are  sore.to  belk  vy[>^ 
it ;  and  cppaiite,  yoa  have  die  stalls,  gay  also^  (notwithstandii^  jttieirjpq*- 
.ianty»)'Wheve  yon  may  get  nailed  riioes  and  ootton-net  briM^es^  and  AHrorks 
'  six  sous  the  volume  I*  stalls  which  carry*  even  into  this  scene  of  wealth 
and  pleasure,  the  democracy  of  the  epoch,  and  say  that  the  people  are 
everywhere  buying,  lounging,  reading.  And  here  you  have  a  happy  opportu- 
anty  of  .admiring  the  vast  variety  of  Parisian  equipages-— the  poor  and  the 
lieh  are  on  horseback,  on  foot>  in  carriages,  in  tilburies,  in  *  citadinea»'  in 
'  .denufortunes/  in  omnibuses,  hurrying  to  or  from  the  Champs  £lys6es^ 
bfQt  once  passed  the  Roe  de  la  Paix,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Batos 
Chinois,  the  Cafe  de  Palis  and  Tortoni*s,  you  are  in  a  different  region.  It 
28  not  cmly  a  throng  perpetually  changing,  which  you  now  see — ^the  caval- 
cade has  in  a  great  measure  ceased ;  and  you  perceive  a  new  jand  a  more 
rlaflgr»  and  a  .mose  lounging  crowd  ^seated  at  the  dcjiiji  of  the  '  cafe9,'  or 
.ctioUiDg.iipaiiddoffm  hcfoice.tlkrai ;  rthose  gentlcuQiXi  whp,  tP  uae  French 


90B  France,  Social,  Literary^  Political' 

•expieflsion,  '  eat  their  fcriimn*  are  here;  and  here  are  the  gambleia  of 
tiie  stock  exchange,  of  *  the  cakm*  and  of  Freaoati's,  the  pawioBate  ncq 
"who  crowd  exiBtence  into  a  day»  who  live  every  minute  of  their  lives,  and 
who  have  come  to  enjoy  the  hour  they  have  snatched  from  aguatiaiL 
Here  they  saunter  listlessly  in  the  sun»  or  stand  in  clusters  at  the  oomen  of 
the  streets." 

There  is  agreat  deal  more  in  this  sfarain^  but  after  all  we  have  not 
found  the  picture  either  simple  enough,  or  nearly  completed ;  it  is 
not  a  grapnic  master-piece,  though  no  doubt  exceedingly  fine,  and 
the  occasion  of  much  working  up.  We  think  the  author's  brother 
would  have  done  it  better.  But  we  are  forgetting  our  resolution, 
which  was  to  forget  Edward  Lytton  Bulwer.  Out  of  such  facts  as 
the  following  we  make  something: — 

*'  I  said  that  few  in  Paris  are  rich,  few  poor.  No  workman  employ- 
ed gains  upon  an  average  less  than  about  eight  hundred  francs  per 
annum.  Hardly  any  workman,  willing  to  work,  is  without  employment ; 
and  the  average  income  of  each  Parisian,  taking  one  with  the  other,  has 
heen  considered  one  thousand  francs.  On  this  fact  reposes  the  equally 
which  strikes  us,  and  the  reign  of  that  middle  class,  whose  dominion  and 
whose  aspect  I  have  described.  This  income  of  one  thousand  francs  Mr. 
Millet  has  divided,  and  according  to  his  calculation,  the  washerwoman 
.  costs  the  Parisian  more  than  the  schoolmaster ;  the  new*year's  gift  more 
than  the  accoucheur :  the  theatre  twice  as  much  as  the  nurse ;  the  libra- 
rian and  bookseller  half  as  much  as  the  theatre ;  the  bath  the  same  as  the 
bookseller  and  librarian ;  and  the  money  spent  in  luxury  and  amusements 
considerably  more  than  that  which  is  expended  in  the  purchase  of  fuel,  the 
.  dearest  article  of  Parisian  existence.  Nor  let  it  be  thought  that  Parisian 
gaiety  is  owing  entirely  to  a  Parisian  climate !  They  who  are  now  watoh- 
ing  the  weather*glass  in  our  land  of  fogs,  may  like  to  know  that  the  Fari- 
sian^themselves  have,  in  the  way  of  weather,  something  to  complain  of. 

"Paris  has  in  the  year  (on  on  average  of  twenty  years)  but  one  hundred 
and  twenty-six  days  tolerably  fine. 

"  But  what  may  not  be  said  of  these  one  hundred  and  twenty^six  days! 
They  contain  the  history  of  France.*' — ^pp.  66—67. 

When  discussing  the  chapter  of  French  characteristics,  politeneta 
of  course  comes  first,  and  we  believe,  as  regards  the  present  day, 
the  author  is  not  unjust  either  towards  England  or  France. 

"  Thus,  the  manners  of  the  French  in  the  time  of  Louis  XVI.  had  one 
feature  of  similarity  v:\th.  ours  at  present.  A  monied  aristocracy  was  then 
rising  into  power  in  France,  as  a  monied  aristocracy  is  now  rising  into 
power  in  England.  This  is  the  aristocracy  which  demands  obsequious  ser- 
vility— ^which  is  jealous  and  fearful  of  being  treated  with  disrespect :  this 
is  the  aristocracy  which  is  haughty,  insolent,  and  susceptible;  which 
dreams  of  affronts  and  gives  them  ;  this  is  the  aristocracy  which  measurea 
with  an  uncertain  eye  the  height  of  an  acquaintance  ;  this  is  the  aristo- 
cracy which  cuts  and  sneers — this  aristocracy,  though  the  aristocracy  of 
the  revolution  of  July,  is  now  too  powerless  in  France  to  be  more  than 
vulgar  in  its  pretensions.  French  manners  then,  if  they  are  net  gracious, 
are  at  all  events  not  insolent ;  while  ours,  unhappily,  testify  on  one  hand 
the  insolence,  while  they  do  not  on  the  other  represent  the  talent  and  the 


Pramce,  Socio/,  Literary,  PollticaL  d07 

gnce  of  that  society  which  presided  over  the  later  suppers  of  the  old  ^  re- 
^^(tae.*  We  have  no  MonEieur  dc  Fitz-Janes^  vrho  might  be  rolled  in  a 
-^sMer  all  hjs  ^^,  as  was  said  by  a  beantifol  woman  of  his  time,  '  without 
ever  tiontraetilig  a  spot  of  dirt  V  We  haye  no  Monsieur  de  Narboaae,  who 
4l0{ia  fli  the  fiercest  of  a  duel  to  pick  up  the  ruffled  rose  that  had  slipped 
ilt  n  earsiesa  ascascnt  from  his  lips,  during  the  graeaful  coufiict  ?  You  see 
tto  longer  in  France  that  noble  air,  that '  great  mmnner*  as  it  was  called,  by 
wkioh  the  old  nobility  strove  to  keep  up  the  distinctioa  between  tiiemseWes 
and  tihittr  (woKae-bom  associates  to  the  last*  and  which  ^  caurse  those  aaso« 
fpuikm  XBpst  a»midMm$l^  imittUetL 

. "  That  manner  is  gone ;  the  French,  so  far  from  being  a  polite  people 
at  the  present  day,  want  that  easiness  of  bchayioor  which  is  the  first  essen- 
tial to  politeness.  Every  man  you  meet  is  occupied  with  maintaining  his 
dignity,  and  talks  to  you  of  his  position.  There  is  an  evident  effort  and 
struggle.  I  will  not  say  to  appear  better  than  you  are,  but  to  appear  a// that 
^ou  are,  and  to  allow  no  person  to  think  that  you  consider  him  better  than 
you.  Persons,  no  longer  ranked  by  classes,  take  each  by  themselves  an 
mdividaal  place  in  society ;  they  are  so  many  atoms,  not  forming  a  con- 
gruous or  harmonious  whcle.  They  are  too  apt  to  strut  forward  singly, 
and  to  say,  with  a  great  deal  of  action,  and  a  great  deal  of  emphasis, '  I 
am — nobody?  The  French  are  no  longer  a  polite  people ;  but  in  the  French 
nation,  as  in  every  nation,  there  is  an  involimtary  and  traditi<»ary  respect 
whieh  haHows  what  is  ^ne  by ;  and  among  the  marvels  of  modern  France 
16  a  rdigion  which  ranks  an  agreeable  smile  and  a  gtaoef  oi  bow  as  casential 
virtues  of  its  crceds/'-^vol.  i.  pp.  91 — 98. 

The*  next  Trench  characteristic  mentioned  is  gallantry y  and  as 
tihe  picture  is  without  question  most  faithful^  who  would  not  exclaim 
^  England  I  with  all  thy  faults,  I  love  thee  still." 

**  There  is  a  small  jnece  now  acting  at  one  of  the  minor  theatres,  called 
*  PtmrqttoiJ  It  is  very  popular ;  every  body  goes  to  see  it,  and  says,  '  H 
«8  fo  true.'    What  tale  lies  hid  under  tliis  mysterious  title  ? 

"^ilwrc  are  two  inarried  friends  living  together.  The  wife  of  one  is 
charming,  always  ready  to  obey  and  to  oblige  ;  her  husband  a  will  is  her 
llMvw  Northing  puta  her  oat  of  humour.  'l*his  couple  live  on  the  best  of 
terms,  and  the  husband  is  as  happy  as  husband  can  desire  to  be.  Now  for 
the  other  pair !  Here  is  ^ontinua]  i»Tangling  and  dispute.  The  wife  will 
liave  her  own  way  in  the  merest  trifles  as  on  the  gravest  matters — storms 
'when  contradicted,  still  tosses  her  head  when  humoured.  In  short,  nothing 
can  be  so  disagreeable  as  this  good  lady  is  to  her  grumbling  but  submissive 
bi^pmate.  Happiness  and  misery  were  never  to  all  appearances  brought 
more  fairly  face  to  face  than  in  these  two  domestic  estiUilishments.  '  Why' 
la  one  wife  such  a  pattern  of  good  nature  and  submission  ?  '  Why'  is  the 
-other  each  a  detestable  shrew  ?     This  is  the  pourqvoL 

••  The  spouse  whom  you  shrink  from  in  such  justifiable  terror  is  as  faith- 
ful as  woman  can  be.  llie  ^)ouse  whom  you  cling  to  as  such  a  pillow  of 
comfort,  is  an  intriguing  hussey. 

"  Hear,  oh !  ye  French  husbands !  you  must  not  expect  your  wives  to 
have  at  the  same  time  chastity  and  good-temper ;  the  qualities  are  incom- 
patible. Your  eyes  must  be  picked  out,  or  horns  on  your  heads  must  grow, 
'^isis  the  farce  which  is  'so  popular.'  This  is  the  picture  of  manners 
which  people  call '  so  true.'    MneraUe  man,  if  the  lips  you  press  to  yours 

TOL.ill.      (1334.)  NO.  IV.  2 


308  France,   Social,  Literary,  Political. 

are  chaste  to  such  endearments !  Miserable  man,  if  the  wife  of  your  bosom 
should  be  so  singular  as  to  be  faithful !  There  is  this  to  be  said  for  England 
— if  the  poor-houses  of  the  country  swarm  with  children  without  a  father 
•—if  the  streets  of  the  metropolis  are  almost  turbulently  infested  with  la- 
dies of  a  most  improper  character — if  Grosvenor  Square  and  St.  James's 
Square,  and  Hill  Str^t,  and  Charles  Street,  are  witnesses  to  some  myste- 
rious and  unconjugal  indecorums, — the  crime  of  unchastity  is  still  spoken 
of  and  considered  as  deadly  and  damnatory  as  any  to  be  found  on  the 
Newgate  Calendar.  It  was  but  the  other  day  that  a  poor  woman  charged, 
I  think  a  chimney  sweep,  with  grossly  ill-treating,  t.  e.  beating  her.  Wbat 
says  the  chimney  sweep  ?  Does  he  refute  the  charge  ?  No  :  but  he  asks 
the  plaintiff  at  once  whether  she  is  not  guilty  of  a  criminal  intercourse 
with  a  certain  cobbler  of  her  acquaintance  ;  and  when  this  unhappy  fact 
is  established — turning  round  triumi)hantly  to  the  magistnite — *  Now,  your 
honour^  vot  does  your  honour  say  after  that  ?*  says  the  chimney  sweeper." 
— vol.1,  pp.  94 — ^97. 

Well  might  a  late  association  of  virtuous  literary  Frenchmen  de- 
nounce the  frightful  character  of  their  present  fashionable  literature, 
and  declare  that  unless  stemmed  speedily,  that  it  would  overwhelm 
the  nation  with  such  a  tide  of  impurity  as  would  make  it  nauseous 
in  the  estimation  of  the  world.  Long  have  the  nation  cherished 
the  memory,  not  only  of  their  great  men  but  of  their  great  men's 
mistresses ;  but  it  seems  that  not  merely  a  speculative  looseness  of 
principle  holds  its  place  in  reference  t-o  gross  immoralities,  when 
these  are  softened  by  distance  from  the  AilI  vision  of  the  spectatcM*, 
by  being  coiifined  to  the  chambers  of  the  royal  or  nohle,  or  covered 
by  the  pomp  or  glitter  of  rank ;  but  that  the  vile  and  loathsome 
evil  has  infected  the  body  of  the  middling  classes,  where  the  strength 
of  the  virtue  of  a  nation  lie  in  its  surest  sanctuary.  The  conse- 
quence of  this  state  of  things,  as  compared  with  what  is  to  be  found 
in  England,  is  with  great  discernment  truly  stated  in  these  plain 
sentences : — 

"  The  hospitals  of  the  '  Enfans  trouves,'  which »  under  their  present  re* 
golations,  are  nothing  less  than  a  human  sacrifice  to  sensual  indulgence* 
remove  the  only  check  that  in  a  country  without  religion  can  exist  to  illirat 
intercourse.  There  is,  then,  far  more  libertinage  in  France  than  in  any 
other  civilized  country  in  Europe  ;  but  it  leads  less  than  in  other  countrifia 
to  further  depravity.  Not  being  considered  a  crime,  incontinence  does  not 
bring  down  the  mind  to  the  level  of  crime.  It  is  looked  upon,  in  faot»  as 
merely  a  matter  of  taste  :  and  very  few  people,  in  forming  their  opinion  of 
the  character  of  a  woman,  would  even  take  her  virtue  into  consideratiofn. 
Great  indeed  are  the  evils  of  this — ^but  it  also  has  its  advantages :  in  England, 
where  honour,  probity,  and  charity  are  nothing  to  the  woman  in  whom  chas- 
tity is  not  found — ^to  her  who  has  committed  one  error  there  is  no  hope** 
and  six  months  frequently  separate  the  honest  girl  of  respectable  parents 
and  good  prospects  from  the  abandoned  prostitute,  associated  with  tiiieves, 
and  whipped  in  Bridewell  for  her  disorders." — vol.  i,  pp.  102,  103. 

Surely  our  new  Poor's  Law  Bill  will  lead  to  nothing  like  this. 
But  we  are  glad  to  escape  to  another  feature  of  character  very 
striking  among  our  neighbours  on  the  other  side  of  the  Channel^ 


France,  Social,  Literary y  Political,  309 

viz.  vanity y  which  our  author  considers  the  cauise  of  national  union 
among  them^  a&  he  successfiilly  shows  it  to  be. 

**  That  vanity  is  not  omif  ridiculous  ;  it  contains  a  power  which  many 
more  lofty  and  serious  qualities  would  fail  to  supply.  With  that  vanity  is 
coodbined  a  capability  for  great  things ;  a  magnificence  of  design,  and  a 
dacingness  of  execution,  rare  amongst  the  pale  and  frigid  nations  of  the 
north.  In  that  vanity  is  security  to  France  :  for  in  that  vanity  is — union, 
lliat  vanity  it  ie  which  concentrates  and  connects  a  people  different  in  their 
manners,  different  in  their  origin*  different  in  their  climate,  different  even 
in  their  language.  That  vanity  it  is — which  gives  to  thirty-three  millions 
of  individuals — o»e,  heart  and  one  pulse.  Go  into  any  part  of  France,  some 
districts  of  Brittany  perhaps  excepted,  nnd  let  any  body  of  persons  be  as- 
sembled! address  them  to  soothe  or  to  excite!  Say  '  Vive  la  liberte  !* 
there  are  times  when  you  will  not  be  listened  to — *  Vive  la  roi ! — ^Vive  le 
charte ! — Vive  la  republique  !'  these  are  all  rallying  cries  which  will  now 
be  hissed,  and  now  applauded :  but  cry  '  Vive  hi  France !' — '  Vive  la 
belle  France,  songez  que  vous  6tes  Frau^ais !'  and,  almost  before  the 
words  are  out  of  your  mouth,  your  voice  will  be  drowned  with  cheers,  and 
a  circulating  and  sympathetic  thrill  will  have  rushed  through  the  breast, 
and  brought  tears  into  the  eyes  of  every  one  of  your  audience.  If  you 
were  to  say  to  an  Englishman, — '  Give  me  up  your  property,  and  give  me 
up  your  liberty,  and  give  me  up  your  life  for  the  sake  of  England,'  he 
wot^d  say,  '  Stop  a  little ;  what  is  England  to  me  without  my  property, 
and  my  liberty,  and  my  life  ? — my  liberty,  my  property,  and  my  life,  are 
England  to  roe  all  the  world  over.*  Not  so  the  Frenchman :  talk  to  him 
of  France ;  tell  him  that  what  you  wish  is  for  the  interest  and  the  glory 
of  France,  and  he  will  let  you  erect  scoffolds  and  send  his  children  to  the 
guillotine  and  the  battle — ^he  will  stop  in  the  highest  fever  of  freedom  to 
bow  to  the  most  terrible  dictatorship,  and  stick  the  red  cap  of  demo- 
cratism on  the  triumvirate  tyranny  of  Robespierre,  Couthon,  and  St. 
Just.  There  is  nothing  you  may  not  do  with  him  under  the  charm  of 
those  irrresistable  words — '  Frangai^  soyez  Francois  !'  '  The  Englishman,* 
as  an  author  lately  observed,  '  is  proud  of  his  nation  because  it  belongs  to 
himself ;  the  Frenchman  is  proud  of  himself  because  he  belongs  to  his  na- 
tion.' This  is  true,  and  this  is  true — ^because  a  Frenchman's  vanity  induces 
him  to  prefer  to  himself  the  association  which  connects  him  with  some- 
thing greater  than  himself  ;  so  merit  is  more  honoured  in  France  than  in 
Bnglanid — ^because  the  Frenchman  at  once  connects  his  own  fame  with  the 
fame  of  the  sage  or  the  warrior  of  bis  land,  and  loves  and  cherishes  his 
countryman's  reputation  as  a  part  of  himself.  '  It  was  not  from  a 
massive  bar  of  iron,  but  from  a  small  and  tiny  needle,'  as  my  Lord  Bacon 
observes,  '  that  we  discovered  the  great  mystery  of  nature  :  and  thus  is 
it  often  by  mailing  oarefoliy  those  passions,  which,  looked  at  superficially , 
appear  the  smallest  and  the  meanest — that  we  trace  the  causes  of  a  nation's 
principal  distinctions." — ^vol.  i,  pp.  116 — 118. 

We  mnst  pass  over  several  chapters  altogether,  and  others  very 
cursorily,  on  the  social  and  political  conditions  of  France,  as  we 
wish  to  dwell  at  some  considerable  length  on  the  literary  character 
of  the  gay  and  lively  nation.  What  Mr.  Bulwer  advances  in  his 
deciphering  antithetical  way,  of  French  wit  and  frivolity^  is  fully  as 
good  as  anything  we  have  yet  extracted.     Indeed,  he  shows  his 

z  2 


310  Prance,  Social,  Literary,  PoHticdi. 

power  over  the  subjects  discussed,  more  firmly  and  highly  as  he  pro- 
ceeds ;  and  by  the  middle  of  the  first  volume  we  find  the  light 
whichj  in  our  preliminary  remarks,  we  spoke  of  as  being  by  him 
shed  abroad  over  France  and  the  French,  beginning  to  gain  a  fixed 
breadth  and  clearness  which  must  recommend  the  work,  and  proves 
it  to  be  a  hundred  times  superior  to  that  multitude  of  tours  which 
has  appeared,  skimming  over  the  surfece  of  things,  and  the  result 
of  a  six  weeks*  residence  in  Paris.  Light  subjects  as  well  as  grave 
are  gravely  gone  into.  Here  is  something  of  the  serious  charac- 
teristics, iJthough  in  France  the  more  lightsome  points  are  not  the 
least  descriptive.  It  would  appear  that  the  qualities,  propensities, 
and  passions,  wliich  distinguish  one  people  from  another,  wind 
themselves  into  every  legislative  enactment.  And  this  the  work 
before  us  proves,  which  wisely  has  been  written  without  the  object 
of  advancing  any  favourite  })olitical  dogma.  It  is  on  the  subject 
of  crimes  tibat  we  shall  allow  the  author  now  to  speak.  We  wish 
that  our  limits  permitted  us  to  give  the  tables  with  whicK  he  has 
enriched  the  books,  taken  from  M.  Guerry's  late  statistical  publica- 
tion,— a  work  that  "  bowls  down  at  once  all  the  nine  pins,  with 
which  late  statists  had  been  amusing  themselves,  and  sets  up  again 
many  of  the  old  notions,  which,  from  their  very  antiquity,  were  out 
of  vogue."  But  we  must  content  ourselves  with  a  few  scattered 
passages  under  this  head,  referring  our  readers  to  the  volumes  them- 
selves, so  well  worthy  of  careful  perusal. 

"  If  education  be  an  advant£^e,  it  is  so,- not  because  it  prevents  men 
from  committing  crimes,  but  because  it  adds  to  the  enjoymentB  of  mankind 
without  increasing  their  vices  in  the  same  proportion.  But  should  edu- 
cation add  to  human  g^ilt  more  than  it  adds  to  human  happiness — should 
this  be  the  case,  the  fault  is  very  much  in  ourselves,  and  very  much  owing» 
let  me  add,  to  all  education  being  insufficient — ^to  the  abmird  belief  that 
to  teach  reading  and  writing  is  quite  enough,  and  that  there  we  may  halt 
and  rest  satisfied  with  the  good  work  that  we  have  performed.  As  wdi  mlg^ 
we  say,  that  if  we  could  but  turn  the  river  into  our  grounds,  it  would  be  a 
matter  of  perfect  indifference  whether  we  led  it  to  the  miU,  or  allowed  it 
to  inundate  the  corn-field. 

"  In  giving  instruction  we  create  a  power,  which,  if  left  to  itself,  may 
produce  more  good  than  evil — which  will  always  produce  good  with  evil, 
but  which  it  is  still  our  duty  to  govern  and  direct*  in  order  to  make  it  pio- 
duce  as  much  good,  as  little  evil  as  possible ;  and  if  we  wish  to  make  our- 
selves sure  of  its  results — if  we  wish  from  afar  to  see,  to  regulate,  and  re- 
joice in  its  effects — we  must  not  only  fill  the  mind,  we  must  form  the 
character — we  must  not  only  give  uiea«,  we .  must  give  habits^  we  must 
make  education  moral  as  w^l  as  intellectual — we  must  give  men  great 
designs  and  good  desires,  at  the  same  time  that  we  invite  them  to  exertion. 
and  make  easy  to  them  the  paths  of  ambition. 

"But  to  turn  from  general  dissertation  to  the  more  immediate  subject 
that  is  before  us — it  now,  I  venture  to  presume,  appears — as  well  from 
the  very  remarkable  table  I  have  given,  as  from  the  maps  to  which  I  refer, 
that  in  France,  at  all  events,  there  seems  to  be  some  influence  or  iufluencea 
supmor  to  accfilent,  independent  of  laws,  independent  of  any  ezistbg 


Prance^  Social,  LUerwry,  Political.  311 

tern  of  InstructioD,  regulating  crimes — and  the  distribution  of  crimes — not 
merely  in  respect  to  their  number,  but  alec  in  respect  to  their  kind. 

"  How  far  the  peculiarities  of  race,  the  habits  resulting  from  old  institu- 
tions, the  differences  arising  from  a  rich  or  barren  soil — from  a  level  or 
mountainous  district — from  the  communication  of  rivers,  or  the  absence 
of  rivers ;  how  hx  all  these  circumstances,  each  affecting  the  passions, 
the  propensities,  the  pursuits,  the  wants,  and  consequently  the  crimes  of 
a  varied  population,  may  extend  their  empire,  M.  Guerry,  deploring  the 
want  of  any  materials  on  which  to  calculate,  leaves  us  in  doubts,  which  I 
do  not  find  myself  qualified  to  dispel.  Amidst  these  doubts  we  are  only 
sensible  that  France,  in  spite  of  its  system  of  umty,  still  contains  a  variety 
of  distinct  races,  with  different  languages,  different  prejudices,  different 
manners,  and  that  neither  the  line  and  measure  of  Abb^  Si^yes,  nor 
the  terrible  policy  of  the  mountain,  nor  the  centralizing  genius  of  Napoleon, 
have  been  able  to  give  to  the  grave  and  slow  inhabitant  of  Normandy  the 
joyoDS  and  eager  character  of  the  chivalric  child  of  Beam, 

"From  the  first  step  to  the  last  then,  from  the  entry  into  life  to  the 
departure  from  it,  the  influence  of  the  sexes,  in  all  its  wonderful  variations 
from  physical  passion  to  moral  depravity,  predominates  in  France  over 
human  actions,  and  shows  here,  in  a  more  serious  manner,  many  of  those 
traits  in  character  to  which  I  have  elsewhere,  in  a  lighter  tone,  alluded. 

"  Nor  is  this  all ;  we  find  that  in  the  committals  in  England  and  Wales^ 
the  females  are  in  the  proportion  of  one  to  five ;  in  France  the  females  are 
iji  the  proportion  of  one  to  three. 

**  The  difference  indeed  between  the  crimes  of  the  male  and  the  female 
in  France,  does  not  seem  caused  by  the  superior  innocence  but  by  the 
greater  weakness  of  tlie  female :  for  exactly  as  a  woman's  facility  for  com*- 
mitting  crime  increases,  her  criminality  also  increases,  and  becomes  more 
especially  remarkable — where  one  would  have  hoped  to  find  it  least  so, 
viz.  beneath  her  master's,  her  father's,  and  her  husband's  roof.  Two- 
fifths  of  the  thefts  by  femiales  are  domestic  thefts,  whereas  only  one 
fifth  of  the  thefts  by  males  are  thefts  of  this  description.  Committing  only 
one  murder  in  twenty,  and  one  assault  in  twenty -five,  the  woman  is  guilty 
of  every  third  parricide,  of  half  the  crimes  by  poison, — and  whenever  man 
or  wife  conspire  against  the  life  of  the  other,  the  accomplice,  if  chosen 
from  the  family,  is  almost  certain  (says  M.  Ghierry)  to  be  a  female.  So 
restless,  so  active,  so  incapable  of  repose  and  insignificance,  in  France,  is 
this  nervous  and  irrritable  sex — here  poisoning  a  husband,  there  intriguing 
for  a  lover — here  spouting  for  equal  rights,  there  scribbling  in  the  '  livre 
rose,' — the  nature  of  the  French  woman  is  still  the  same,  sometimes  eon- 
ducting  her  to  glory,  sometimes  to  the  galleys. 

•*  ITie  annual  number  of  natural  children  is  67,876,  (34,708  males,  and 
33,168  females).  The  department  of  the  Seine,  which  produces  a  thirty- 
second  of  the  population,  produces  one-sixth  of  the  natural  children ;  and 
one-third  of  the  population  of  Paris  would  aerially  be  illegitimate  but  for 
the  unhappy  destiny  which  infants  so  begotten  undergo :  three-fifths  of 
these  children  are  abandoned  by  their  parents,  and  one  out  of  every  three 
dies  before  attaining  his  third  year.  Where  we  find  the  most  hospitals, 
there  we  find  the  fewest  infanticides.  But  such  is  the  state  of  these  insti- 
tutions, that,  little  better  than  a  device  for  encouraging  prostitution  -and 
checking  population,  they  do  that  which  the  law  forbids  the  abandoned 
parent  to  do — they  murder  the  child.     They  transfer  the   guilt  from  the 


dI2  France^  Social,  Literary,  Political. 

individual  to  tlie  state.  Miserable  duplicity  ! — ^the  mother  is  punished  for 
her  crime — the  government  ia  lauded  for  its  humanity.** — vol.  i.  186 — 
199. 

From  such  passages  our  readers  will  perceive  that  Mr.  Bulwer's 
France  is  a  work  of  vast  variety,  and  abounding  with  momentous  as 
well  as  amusing  matter.  We  pass  on  to  the  second  volume,  which 
proceeds  with  the  historical  changes  that  have  come  over  the  nation 
of  late  years,  where  his  carefully  weighed  opinions,  although  the 
period  is  too  recent  for  impartiality  to  have  arrived,  will  impart  in* 
struction  and  much  satisfaction  to  every  candid  reader.  The  clear 
arrangement  of  his  ideas,  and  the  graceful  dress  with  which  they 
are  clothed,  must  charm,  even  the  fastidious  in  such  matters.     We 

Juote  a  passage  respecting  the  benefits  of  the  restoration  of  the 
tourbons,  where  the  facts  of  the  case  and  the  fairness  of  the  author 
go  hand  in  hand. 

'*  Say  what  you  will  of  its  ministerial  errors,  of  its  factious  agitationsy 
'  the  Restoration,'  as  a  period  of  improvement,  was  a  mighty  epoch.  No 
country,  perhaps,  ever  made  in  the  same  time  the  same  advances  that 
France  made  from  1815  to  1830. 

"  The  ambitious  soldier  and  the  enthusiastic  boy  may  linger  with  a  fond 
delight  over  the  narrative  of  those  almost  miraculous  exploits,  which  pkLoe 
upon  so  lofty  a  pedestal  the  endeavours  of  human  genius ;  the  more  cool- 
blooded  politician  will  observe  that  the  tower  of  Babel,  the  loftiest  edifice 
on  record,  was  the  least  useful,  the  most  certain  not  to  be  completed,  and 
that  the  merits  of  a  reign  are  to  be  measured,  not  by  the  admiration  it 
excites,  but  by  the  benefits  it  produces.  The  battle  of  Waterloo  left  France 
the  victim  of  two  invasions.  The  losses  which  had  been  inflicted  upon  her 
territory  have  been  estimated  at  fifteen  hundred  millions  of  francs,  the 
same  sum  that  she  was  condemned  to  pay  the  Allies.  From  1818  to  1827, 
in  nine  years  alone,  says  M.  Dupin,  *  tjiese  wounds,  profound  and  terrible 
as  they  were,  had  been  healed,  and  even  their  scars  obliterated.  In  the 
wars  of  twenty -three  years,  fifteen  hundred  thousand  men  had  peiished, 
and  in  thirteen  years  their  loss  had  been  repaired.'  Agriculture,  which 
the  presence  of  a  foreign  enemy  had  repressed  (one  department  alone  had 
suffered  to  the  extent  of  seventy-five  millions  of  francs)  revived,  and  had 
even  advanced  during  the  Restoration,  as  well  by  an  increase  in  horses 
and  cattle,  as  by  various  improvements  in  the  art  of  cultivation. 

The  manufactures  of  wool,  of  cotton,  of  silk,  aided  by  the  improvement 
of  machinery  and  the  experiments  of  chemistry,  had  added,  during  that 
time,  in  no  small  degree  to  the  resources  of  industry,  and  the  investments 
for  wealth.  The  population  of  Lyons  alone  had  advanced  in  eleven  yean 
from  100  to  150,000  inhabitants.  The  product  of  indirect  taxation,  that 
sign  not  merely  of  the  riches,  but  of  the  enjoyments  of  a  people,  had  been 
swelled  during  the  interval  of  1818  to  1827  by  twenty-five  per  cent.  The 
customs  and  the  post  produced  more,  the  lottery  less ;  and,  a  circum- 
stance not  to  be  forgotten  in  the  details  of  administration,  the  expense  of 
collecting  the  revenue  had  diminished  as  the  revenue  itself  had  increased. 
The  number  of  printed  sheets  were,  in  1814,  45,675,039;  in  1826, 
144,5G4,094;  thus  displaying,  in  the  production  of  human  knowledge,  a 
yet  greater  increase,  and  a  yet  greater  activity  than  in  the  other  rapidly 
and  daily  increasing  productions." — vol.  ii.  pp.54 — 56. 


France,  Sociai,  LUerary,  Politicai.  Zl^ 

Then  came  the  famous  Ordonnances^  accompanied  by  a  famous 
report,  not  less  remarkable  for  the  eloquence  than  for  the  history  it 
contained ;  on  which  the  author  remarks,  that  this  document  may 
convince  us,  that  even  in  the  worst  times,  and  under  the  least  favour- 
Bble  circumstances,  arbitrary  power  will  never  want  able,  perhaps 
conscientious  defenders.  Mr.  Bulwer  even  maintains  that  Charles 
X.  as  well  as  Louis  XVIII.  possessed  very  considerable  talents; 
nor  are  we  aware  of  any  evidence  to  the  contrary,  unless  we  rely 
upon  the  vulgar  and  popular  clamour  of  the  time,  which  uniformly 
runs  into  extremes,  and  with  respect  to  those  whose  situation  re- 
inoves  them  from  close  inspection  and.  intimacy,  must  ever  be 
exercised  in  exaggerations,  especially  if  vices  be  the  material  to 
heap  up.  But  the  period  is  at  hand  when  the  author  has  to  write 
an  epitafdxupon  the  restoration. 

" '  Vive  Lafayette !  Vive  Lafayette  I'  this  was  the  cry  in  every  street,  as 
down  from  every  window,  as  down  from  every  balustrade,  whence  the  ball 
and  the  broken  bottle  and  the  massive  pavement  lately  rushed,  now  drop- 
ped gentle  flowers  on  the  venerable  head  of  the  friend  of  Washington — 
of  the  old  general  of  the  National  Guard ;  and,  wafted  on  every  breeze, 
flew  the  iiational  cockade,  the  old  and  famous  tri-coloured  riband  ;  and 
lo !  the  very  hero  of  popular  parade,  the  revolutionary  veteran,  bowing, 
smiling,  embracing;  and  lo!  the  immense  masses,  shouting,  laughing, 
waving  their  hats,  firing  their  arms  !  To  the  Hotel  de  Ville  marched  the 
long  procession." — vol.  ii.  p.  87,  88. 

Contrast  the  fortunes  of  Charles  X,  as  once  more  in  the  course  of 
history  brought  into  operation  with  those  of  the  venerable  repub- 
lican. 

"  On  the  16th  of  August  this  unfortunate  monarch  embarked  at  Cher* 
bourg.  On  the  SOtb  of  July  he  had  left  St.  Cloud ;  for  a  day  he  halted 
at  Versailles.  He  halted  there  amidst  the  recollections  of  bygone  times ; 
every  tree  had  a  story  linked  with  far  distant  days ;  and  melancholy  must 
it  have  been  to  have  seen  him  as  he  looked  fondly  over  those  stately  ave- 
nues— as  he  lingered  (and  long,  hi^  attendants  say,  he  did  linger)  upon 
the  steps  of  that  royal  palace,  whicKhc  had  known  so  early  and  which  he 
will  never  see  again.  When  he  artived  at  RambouiUet,  it  was  night ; 
the  moon  threw  a  ghastly  light  on  the  antique  tower,  and  into  the  dim 
court-yard  of  the  old  chateau,  as  bent  with  fatigue,  and  worn  by  agitation, 
the  old  King  descended  amidst  the  scanty  crowd,  collected  less  from  affec- 
tion than  curiosity.  Here  he  determined  to  abide.  The  great  body  of 
the  troops  were  bivouacked  in  the  woods  and  park,  and  in  spite  of  many 
desertions,  a  large  force  was  still  devotedly  attached  to  the  royal  family." 
— vol.  ii.  p.  100,  101. 

Mr.  Bulwer^  in  considering  the  predominating  influences  over 
France^  returns  to  woman^  and  places  her  as  the  first  in  his  list. 
Military  influences  follows,  and  at  last  that  of  literature.  Here  is 
a  fine  opening  to  this  branch  of  his  work,  when  he  starts  as  a  true 
lover  of  it,  and  by  no  means  an  ordinary  cultivator. 

"At  the  very  moment  that  I  am  writing,  the  words  yet  ring  in  my  ear 
which  I  heard  cue  cf  the  most  distinguished  members  address  the  other 


ai4  France,  Social,  Lii€ntfy,PoHti4mi. 

erening  to  the  Chamber  of  Deputies :  '  And  I — I  who  am  ep&Magttk  yon 
'  Mesmeurs/  when  people  talk  to  you  of  an  aristocracy,  and  the  infliiesoe 
of  an  aristocracy,  what  am  I  ?  What  am  I ,  whom  yon  think  worthy  o^ 
your  attention ;  who  take  my  place  on  yonder  bench,  by  the  side  of  me& 
who  have  gained  battles ;  by  the  side  of  men  bearing  the  noblest  names 
in  France  ?  What  am  I,  '  Messieurs/  but  an  humble  man  of  letters,  whom 
a  little  talent,  kindly  noticed,  introduced  amongst  you?' 

"  There  are  countries,  the  monarchs  of  which  show  an  enlightened  sense 
of  the  dignity  with  which  men  of  science  decorate  their  dominions :  there 
are  countries  in  which  you  will  find  ambassadors  and  ministers  as  eminent 
for  their  literary  attainments  as  for  their  high  political  station  ;  but  in  no 
country  do  literature  and  science  open  so  free,  and  honourable,  and  iade^ : 
pendent  a  career,  as  in  that  France  which  M.  lliiers  addressed  horn  tbc 
National  Tribune,  in  the  few  touching  words  that  I  baire  just  cited. 

"  '  Overturn  the  monarchy :  give  me  the  liberty  of  the  press,,  aod  I  will 
restore  it  in  six  months,'  was  the  noble  expression  of  an  author,  conideat 
in  his  talent,  confident  in  the  genius  of  his  countrymen,  and  only  wrong 
in  the  folly  of  his  cause.  A  great  writer  in  France  is  a  great  power.  Thi^ 
baron  of  feudal  times  sallied  forth  against  his  neighbour,  or  his  sovereign, 
with  his  armed  retainers  at  his  heels ;  and  in  tbose  days  of  violence  the 
goodness  of  the  right  depended  on  the  goodness  of  the  sword.  The  cour- 
tier in  France,  who  succeeded  the  baron,  abandoned  the  glaive  and  the 
gauntlet,  for  the  Graces,  and  trusted  to  an  appropriate  snule  and  a  well- 
turned  compliment  for  the  success  of  his  career.  But  mark  yonder  pale 
young  man,  feeble  in  his  person,  slovenly  in  his  dress,  holding  his  pen  with 
a  trembling  hand,  doubled  up  over  his  paper !  That  young  man  has  come 
from  some  mean  abode,  from  some  distant  province,  where,  amidst  penury 
and  insignificance,  with  his  eyes  now  fixed  on  the  page  of  history,  now  on 
the  heading  of  a  newspaper,  he  has  long  indulged  his  reveries  of  immor- 
tality and  his  hopes  of  power.  In  him  see  the  baron  and  the  eourtier  of 
the  day ;  he  attacks  the  monarch  and  the  minister,  but  it  is  not  with  the 
fialchion  and  the  lance.  He  glides  into  the  cabinet  and  the  boudoir,  not  in 
a  powdered  wig  and  an  embroidered  waistcoat,  but  bound  in  vellum.  He 
does  not  measure  his  force  or  his  address  with  your's,  but  his  intdli- 
gence ; — he  is  the  person  to  admire ;  he  is  the  person  to  lear ;  he  is  the 
person,  in  France,  which  he  is  nowhere  else. 

''  He  18  the  person  in  France  that  he  cannot  be  in  America,  for  there  is 
no  superstition  for  the  arts  in  America ;  the  vanity  of  wealth,  the  natural 
consequence  of  a  nation  depending  wholly  on  its  industry  and  itsconmeree, 
predominates  over  the  diviner  thoughts  and  more  graceful  occupations  of 
letters.  He  is  the  person  in  France  that  he  cannot  be  in  Germany — for  m 
Germany  a  '  von*  before  your  name  is  a  matter  of  social  necessity;  for  in 
Germany,  to  be  *  well  born,*  or  to  be  •  nobly  bom,*  or  to  be  *  right-nobly 
liom,'  is  a  matter  submitted  to  historical  rules,  and  the  superscription  of  a 
tetter,  demands  the  profoundest  study,  the  most  accurate  knowledge,  the 
nicest  distinctions.  He  is  the  person  in  France  that  he  cannot  be  in  En- 
gland— for,  in  England,  politics  is  the  only  passion  of  the  men,  fa^hioij  the 
only  idol  of  the  women — for,  in  England,  to  be  a  blockhead  is  far  more  par- 
donable than  to  live  in  a  bad  street — for,  in  England,  to  have  voted  against 
the  house  and  window -tax  would  win  you  more  favour  than  to  have  written 
the  profoundest  work  on  legislation. — vol.  ii.  pp.  184 — 187. 


Frtmee,  SoeM,  Lit^rvry,  PMHcal.  S15 

Onr  ansthor  rkli<mlefl  the  theory,  and  we  feat  too  tnily^  that  the 
Reform  Bill  would  introduce  into  our  nation's  counsels  and  assem- 
blies men  of  letters,  because  they  were  such,  in  the  same  manner  in 
which  they  are  in  France,  where  they  are  highly  esteemed.  Certainly, 
it  is  nonsense  to  embrace  all  advantages  in  one  system  and  to  ex- 
clude them  fi'om  another.  It  is  necessary  in  lookup  to  the  present 
to  refer  to  the  past.  We  are  sure  to  oe  wrong,  if  we  thmk  one 
effect  is  always  produced  by  one  cause,  or  that  the  same  events 
which  confirm  and  extend  a  power  have,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
planted  or  produced  it.  It  is  true  that  there  are  more  who  can 
read  and  write  in  England  than  in  France,  out  of  every  hundred  ; 
but  ordinary  education,  which  would  be  sufficient  to  spread  and  to 
increase  a  love  for  science  and  the  arts,  where  it  already  exists, 
may  be  insufficient  to  generate  that  affection  when  it  does  not  exist. 
But — 

**  If  you  wish  to  introduce  a  love  of  the  arts,  and  to  elevate  literary 
men  in  England,  you  must  study  the  genius,  the  character,  and  the  his- 
tory of  the  English  people.     You  must  introduce  the  passion  you  wish  to 
create,  in  the  manner  in  which  it  can  best  blend  with  the  dispositions  that 
you  find  existing.     If  you  wish  to  wake  the  attention  of  a  cold  and  apa- 
thetic people  to  the  arts,  you  must  multiply  statutes  and  forms  of  beauty 
in  your  public  walks — ^you  must  let  your  galleries  and  your  collections 
stand  with  doors  wide  open  to  the  public.  If  you  wish  to  inspire  a  manu- 
facturing people  with  any  just  idea  of  the  value  of  sculpture  and  of  paint- 
ing, you  must  not  simply  institute  schools  of  painting  and  sculpture,  but 
schools  that  shall  connect  painting  and  sculpture  with  manufactures.     If 
you  wish  among  an  aristocratical  people  to  raise  the  situation  of  men  of 
science  and  men  of  letters,  you  must  not  merely  institute  universities  and 
societies  which  shall  keep  men  of  letters  and  science  apart  from  the  rest 
of  their  fellow-citizens,  you  must  confer  such  honours  and  distinctions 
upon  literary  and  scientific  labours  as  are  obtained  in  the  army,  or  at  the 
bar,  and  not  forbid  the  highest  genius  in  literature  to  aspire  to  the  same 
position  and  the  same  rank  in  society  that  even  wealth  and  court  favour 
are  sufficient  to  give."— Vol.  ii.  pp.  200—202. 

In  France,  the  author  says,  wherever  you  go,  the  person  particu- 
larly noticed,  if  not  a  remarkable  officer,  is  sure  to  be  a  remarkable 
writer;  whilst  in  England,  to  be  known  as  a  writer  is  certainly  to  a 
man's  prejudice.  Let  ua  have  something  more  of  his  theory  for 
all  this. 

••  Some — ^many — of  the  reasons  for  this  difference  between  France  and 
England  I  have  stated.  They  belong  to  history;  they  belong  to  the  past; 
they  belong  to  the  fact,  that  a  monarchy  governed  in  France,  which 
sought  to  humble  the  aristocracy,  while  an  aristocracy  governed  iri 
England,  which  sought  to  abuse  the  Commons.  But  there  are  three 
causes  which  more  especially  operate  at  the  present  time  to  maintain  the 
distinction  originated  by  former  laws,  and  customs,  and  institutions. 

"  First — ^l^he  influence  of  women  in  France,  and  the  higher  cast  of 
their  thoughts  and  their  pursuits.  Secondly-^The  •  esprit  de  corps,* 
which,  in  France,  as  connected  with  the  natural  vanity  of  the  French, 
I  have  already  noticed.    And  lastly,  The  state  of  property  in  Franco — 


316  Franect  SockU^  LHjerary^  PoKtieal. 

the  state  of  property,  which  enters  more  than  people  imagine  into  every 
relation  of  life,  into  every  production  of  human  intelligence,  into  every 
law  passed  for  social  happiness,  and  which,  when  we  consider  the  present 
state  of  France,  it  is  most  especially  our  duty  to  keep  before  us. 

"  The  greater  frivolity  of  English  women,  and  consequently  the  greater 
frivolity  of  English  society,  necessarily  create  a  kind  of  fear  and  horror 
amongst  that  body  for  a  being  who,  having  been  guilty  of  writing,  is 
supposed,  oftentimes  very  fallaciously,  to  have  been  guilty  of  thinking, 
and  who  is  therefore  considered  what  a  sober  man  would  be  by  a  set  of 
drunken  associates,  viz. — ^a  bore  and  a  critic.  The  esteem  which  every 
man  sets  upon  himself  in  England— 40  different  from  the  vanity  which 
makes  every  man  in  France  connect  himself,  wherever  he  can,  with  all 
that  is  greater  than  himself — induces  persons  to  view  with  jealousy, 
instead  of  with  pride,  any  man  who,  employing  no  more  pens,  ink, 
and  paper,  than  he  does,  contrives  to  make  a  greater  reputation." — 
vol.ii.pp.  216— 218. 

We  do  not  know  what  our  English  ladies  may  say  to  this,  bat 
we  fain  hope  that  Mr.  Bulwer's  assertion^  in  so  far  as  thev  are  con- 
cerned^ is  unfairly  made.  Indeed  it  does  not  altogether  in  this  partica* 
lar  seem  consistent  with  some  other  portions  of  his  work^  part  of 
whichwehaveextracted  pretty  early  in  this  article.  We  are  not  against 
his  frequent  recurrence  to  woman,  blessings  upon  the  sex! — as  one  of 
the  most  important  influences  in  the  worlds  whether  France  or 
England  be  spoken  of; — ^but  we  think  that  her  confessedly  more 
virtuous  life  in  our  own  country  must  not  permanently  or  generally 
operate  to  the  disadvantage  of  literature  of  that  high  and  ennoUing 
nature  which  of  late  years  is  so  scarce  across  the  channel.  One 
error  in  tbe  author's  theories  seems  to  us  to  be  the  assigning 
a  cut  and  dry^  a  clearly  defined  cause^  for  what  is  the  result  of  a 
great  number  of  nameless  influences,  namelessly  interwoven.  But 
especially  are  our  irefiil  feelings  in  arms  against  him,  for  character- 
izing the  British  fair  as  frivolous^  when  in  an  earlier  portion  of  his 
work,  gaiety  and  frivolity  are  set  formally  down  as  being  eminently 
descriptive  of  the  French,  whether  men  or  women  be  considered. 
However,  Mr.  Bulmer  may  have  some  latent  prejudice,  arising  from 
disappointment  or  the  like,  in  his  own  country,  and  therefore  we 
must  allow  his  spleen  to  have  its  way  for  a  time. 

He  goes  on  to  say,  that  from  the  fall  of  Napoleon,  philosophy 
and  letters  have  been  gradually  assuming  an  ardent  spirit  and  a 
vivid  colouring,  analogous  with  the  glory  and  the  fever  of  that 
man's  reign ;  and  to  support  this  assertion  he  proceeds  to  consider 
French  literature  in  its  two  most  important  divisions — ^history  and 
the  drama.  And  here  he  maintains,  that  the  nation  for  the  first 
time  is  now  remarkable  for  the  former  of  these  departments;  and 
that  painting  rather  than  description  is  its  characteristic.     Why  ? 

"  Authors,  since  authors  have  mixed  with  mankind,  have  been  mo- 
delled more  or  less  by  their  public.  The  historian's  public  in  the 
eighteenth  century  was,  as  I  have  said,  a  public  of  would-be  philosophers 
and  agreeable  fine  gentlemen,  and  the  historian  went  trippingly  along. 


France^'Sociai,  Literary,  PoUikal,  317 

now  lecturing  the  one  dafiSt  now  chatting  with  the  other.  The  historical 
slyle  of  the  nineteenth  century  is  different  from  the  historical  style  of  the 
eighteenth ;  hut  the  historian's  manner  has  not  changed  more  than  his 
readers  have  changed^  He  was  formerly  read  by  a  clique*— he  is  now 
read  by  a  country.  * 

'*  It  is  not  only  that  more  men  read  now  than  they  used  to  do— -this 
has  not  increased  the  number  of  those  who  disturb  the  dusty  volumes  in 
the  royal  library,  that  treat  of  astrology  and  magic— it  is  not  only  that 
more  men  read  than  they  used  to  do,  but  that  more  men  read  history— 
that  more  men  naturally  feel  an  interest  in  historical  composition. 

'*  History  is,  in  fact,  not  interesting  far  beyond  the  pale  of  those  whose 
actions  make  history,  and  whose  fortunes  are  affected  by  it.  History 
would  not  be  widely  interesting  in  a  country  where  the  great  mass  of 
the  people  were  slaves  and  mendicants,  without  honours  to  gain  or  pro- 
perty to  Ipse.  History  would  be  widely  interesting  in  a  country  where 
the  great  bulk  of  the  people  were  proprietors,  and  where  there  was  no 
poet  in  the  state  which  every  citizen  might  not  reasonably  hope  to  ob- 
tain. In  the  one  case  it  is  an  idle  speculation  .to  be  studied  from 
curiosity;  in  the  other  it  is  a  practical  lesson  to  be  looked  to  for  examples. 
With  the  general  diffusion  of  honours,  of  employments,  and  more  espe- 
cially with  the  general  diffusion  of  property — on  which  the  diffusion  of 
honours  and  employments  mainly  depends-— has  been  diffused  the  interest 
of  history. 

*'  The  small  herd  of  encyclopeedists  and  courtiers,  who  once  listened 
to  the  historian,  are  now  cut  up,  as  it  were,  into  an  immense  crowd  of 
journalists,  shopkeepers,  soldiers,  and. mechanics. 

*'  This  division  and  diffusion  of  property — ^bringing  up  a  fresh  class 
of  feelings  upon  the  surface  of  France — inverting  t]^  usual  order  of 
events — creating  a  new  society  when  we  might  have  keen  looking  to 
the  mature  caducity  of  an  old  one — turning  an  aristocracy  of  readers 
into  a  democracy  of  readers — has  made  the  historian  a  popular  orator 
where  he  was  formerly  a  wit  and  a  metaphysician.  Addressing  a  more 
numerous,  a  more  impassioned,  a  less  reasoning,  class  of  readers  than  his 
predecessors,  he  has  assumed  a  more  vehement,  a  more  impassioned,  a 
more  powerful,  style  of  writing."— vol.  ii.  pp.  268 — 260. 

Upon  the  French  Drama  at  the  present  day  the  author  considers, 
first,  the  horrid  nature  of  its  subjects,  and  the  manner  in  which 
those  subjects  are  handled  and  introduced.  He  says  here,  that  a 
subject  is  not  allowable  on  the  stage  that  either  offends  the  rules  of 
art  or  the  more  important  rules  of  morality.  Under  this  last  parti- 
calar  he  chides  and  appeals  to  M.  V.  Hugo,  and  M.  Dumas,  two 
of  the  most  talented  and  popular  French  dramatists  of  the  day.  We 
shall  close  our  extracts  with  this  earnest  and  virtuous  remon- 
strance;— 

*^  It  is  of  the  rules  of  morality  as  of  the  rules  of  art :  it  is  not  the  horrid 
nature  of  a  subject  that  offends  either  the  one  or  the  other ;  it  is  in  the 
mannei  in  which  the  subject  is  treated  that  its  beauty  as  a  piece  of  com- 
position, or  its  value  as  a  lesson  of  virtue,  depends.  The  immorality  of 
M.  V.  Hugo  and  of  M.  Dumas  is  not  in  having  brought  Marion  de  Lorme 
and  Antony  upon  the  stage,  but  in  affecting  to  breathe  a  mawkish 
interest  over  the  infamy  of  the  prostitute,  and  attaching  a  rbmantic 


318  F^moe,  SocM,  LUeray,  PdHieal. 

heroism  to  the  adulterous  aadncer  of  female  honour.  The  inverted  phi- 
losophy of  M.  Hugo  appears  to  me,  as  I  have  frankly  said,  a  kind  of  un> 
philosophic  madness,  with  which  I  have  no  sympathy,  for  which  I  think 
there  is  no  excuse ;  and  what  I  say  of  the  intentional  follies  of  M.  V.  Hugo 
I*8ay  of  the  wild  and  whining*  vice  of  M.  Dumas. 

**  And  why  is  this?  Why,  M.  Dumas,  instead  of  attempting  to  breathe  a 
felse  poesy  into  the  grovelling  amours  of  a  Parisian  salon,  or  holding  up  for 
imitation  a  political  profligacy — which,  thank  God,  is  yet  untrue— in  the 
public  men  and  the  parliament  of  Great  Britain*-why  have  you  sought  for 
no  truer,  no  better,  no  brighter  models  for  the  emulation  of  those  aideat 
youths  who  admire  your  talent  and  worship  your  career  ? — ^Are  there  no 
characters  you  can  take  from  the  heroes  of  July,  or  the  enthusiasts  of  June  ? 
—Are  there  no  models  of  female  heroism  and  devotion  you  can  draw  from 
the  revolution  of  17^9,  and  the  restoration  of  1816?  Have  Madame 
Roland  and  Madame  Lavalette  lived  in  vain  ?  Have  you  had  no  men  in 
France  who  have  been  disinterested  and  brave  ?  Have  you  had  no  women 
in  France  who  have  been  noble  and  virtuous  ?  Must  you  fill  your  sti^ 
with  sickly-faced  apothecaries  in  the  frontispiece  attitude  of  Lord  Byron, 
and  fourth-rate  fine  ladies  vulgarly  imitating  the  vices  and  the  ton  of  Mde. 
de  Mirepoix?  Why  should  you  invent  imaginary  personages  in  the 
representation  of  your  age,  who  are  exceptions  to  your  age  ? .  Why  should 
you  take  as  the  heroes  and  heroines  of  your  drama  the  creatures  whom  it 
would  sicken  you  to  meet  in  the  commerce  of  daily  life  ? 

**  And  you,  M.  V.  Hugo ! — ^you,  the  promise  of  whose  youth  was  so 
generous— in  whose  Odes  breaUied  a  spirit  no  less  remaricable  for  its 
purity  than  its  poesy — ^you,  who  seemed  by  instinct  to  have  caij^ht  the 
chivalry  and  the  grace  of  the  old  knightly  time,  with  the  popular  language 
that  goes  to  the  heart  of  the  present  day — ^have  you  no  better  mode  of 
elevating  your  countrywomen  than  by  teaching  them  to  be  good  nxytbeis 
by  the  example  of  Lucr^ce  Borgia,  or  devoted  mistresses  by  the  example 
of  Marion  de  Lorme  ?  What  I  have  you  foimd  no  cleverer  mode  ol 
elevating  the  people  in  their  own  esteem,  than  by  telling  every  unwashed 
apprentice  that  a  Countess  wishes  to  marry  him — ^not  because  he  is  a 
good  man,  and  a  steady  apprentice — Oh,  no !  simply  because  he  is  an 
apprentice,  because  he  is  a  working  man  ? 

**  Is  not  this  stuff  I  Is  not  this  prostrate  and  dust-licking  flattery  1  CSan 
you  talk  of  the  cringing  of  a  courtier  to  his  monarch,  when  you  bow  thus 
slavishly  before  the  meanest  of  your  mob  ?  Nor  is  my  praise  or  ceDsoie 
indifferent  to  you— If  I — a  foreigner — far  away  from  ail  your  pelty  jea- 
lousies and  rival  cliques — If  I — who  not  even  as  a  man  of  letters — a  tiUe 
to  which  I  have  not  the  honour  to  pretend — if  I,  who  neither  as  a  coun- 
tryman, nor  even  as  a  literary  man,  can  possibly  have  any  rivalry  with 
you — if  I,  who  honour  your  talents,  love  your  country,  and  approve  of 
many  of  your  principles — ^if  I,  who,  if  any  wish  were  stirring  in  my  mind, 
can  only  have  the  wish  to  propitiate  your  friends,  to  obtain  and  enjoy  the 
pleasure  and  honour  of  your  acquaintance — If  I  have  allowed  words  to  be 
wnmg  out  from  me — words  of  reproach — strong  words — words  expres- 
sive of  more  than  my  regret — ^at  the  manner  in  which  you  have  allowed 
ignorance,  and  prejudice,  and  adulation,  and  negligence,  and  indifference* 
and  immorality,  to  obscure  and  to  tarnish  the  lustre  of  talents  for  which  such 
a  country  and  such  a  time  as  that  in  which  yuu  live  open^gd  so  great,  and 
SO  noble,  and  so  heart<cheering  a  path  to  fame-p-^if  I  have  had  language 


Tk^PoUHcal  life  rf  Prmee  Tiik^mtd.  819 

•-^•uok  M  that  whioh  I  have  uflod,  unwillingly,  I  declare-^exlorted  from 
me-— 18  it  not  possible  that,  far  away  from  that  fseble  chorus  of  easilj^- 
tnchanted  friends,  who,  like  the  bird  in  the  Arabian  Nights,  pass  their 
lives  in  repeating  *  There  is  but  one  Poes^,  and  Dumas  and  Victor 
Hugo  are  its  true  prophets  I' — is  it  not  possible,  I  say,  that,  far  away 
from  these  sickliest  sounds,  there  is  an  opinion  rising,  gathering,  swelling, 
an  opnion  winch  shall  be  the  opinion  of  Europe — ^the  opinion  of  posterity 
--^an  opinion  which  might  have  raised  you  in  a  new  time  to  such  pedes- 
tals as  those  of  the  old  time  occupy — an  opinion  which  shall  bi4ak  as 
busts  of  cUy  what  you  might  have  made  statues  of  stone  and  of  marble 
— an  opnion  which  shall  leave  you  the  lions  of  a  drawing-room,  and 
whicfa  might  have  made  you  the  land-marks  of  an  epoch  ?" — ^voL  ii,  pp. 
336—340. 

Yes^  women  of  England,  such  are  the  dramatists  that  the  literary 
ladies  of  France  eoort,  praise,  and  conotenanoe.  Youryrtpo/tly,  so 
strongly  alleged  in  a  former  part  of  these  yolameB,  cannot  be 
worse  dian  the  fiEivour  shown  to  such  writers.  But  your  domestic 
virtues,  yoor  matronly  or  maidenly  partialities,  be  they  towards  men 
of  letters  or  not,  would  not  tolerate  these  two  dramatists  whom  the 
author  has  so  eloquently  been  rating,  and  we  must  prefer  you  still; 
so  indeed  does  Mr.  Bulwer,  whose  work  is  well  worth  your  careful 
and  partial  perusal. 


Aht.  ni. — The  PoHtieal  Life  of  Prince  Tdleyrtmd.    2  vols.    London : 

Churton.  1884. 

Ip  aH  the  books  that  have  been  written  to  illustrate  that  most 
extraordinary  period  in  Modem  History,  from  the  commencement 
of  the  French  Revolution  to  its  close,  were  piled  together,  we  veiily 
believe  they  would  readi  from  earth  to  heaven.  There  is  scarce  one 
of  the  men  of  that  epoch  whom  either  circumstances  or  talents  made 
consincuous,  who  has  not  found  a  deputy  historian,  when,  as  rarely 
happened,  he  showed  no  disposition  to  favour  the  world  with  a  per- 
sonal narrative  of  his  sayings  and  doings.  Memoirs,  and  Souvenirs, 
have  been  written  bv  every  one,  from  the  waiting  maid  and  valet  to 
the  prince  and  marshal.  And  yet  among  this  vast  mass  of  histori- 
cal ilhimmation,  all  centering  in  this  common  £Mms,  we  have  been 
often  at  aloss  for  some  ccMupilation  that  would  give  us  a  distinct  and 
uninterrupted  view  of  the  career  of  the  illustrious  individual  who 
ferms  the  subject  of  the  present  sketch.  And  among  the  whoie 
gallery  of  portraits,  there  is  scarce  one  which  has  more  decided  claims 
tipon  our  attention.  His  name  is  interwoven  with  the  greatest  events 
of  the  last  and  present  century.  He  has  figured  in  every  character, 
and  stood  godfather  to  every  dynasty.  Who  has  not  heard  of  file 
refined  elegance  of  the  prelate  courtier,  the  eloquence  of  the  deputy, 
the  subtlety,  sagaacity,  and  exquisite  tact  of  the  diplomatist?  Un- 
der the  old  regime,  the  directory,  the  consulate,  the  empire,  the 
restimition  and  subsequent  overtlurow  of  the  Bourbons,  we  observe 
Talleyrand  arise,  overtopping  all  competitors,  bask  in  the  simshiiie 


920  7^  PoUHcai  Life  of  Prmce  tdUe^o^ 

of  the  prosperity  of  each  moceanvB  goveniment,  foresee  its  comtng 
ruin,  and  with  a  tact  never  before  paralleled,  succeed  in  gaining  an 
ascendant  over  its  successor,  by  rendering  himself  indispensably 
necessary  for  the  promotion  of  its  interests.  Without  exaggeration  or 
temerity  it  may  be  asserted,  that  the  political  career  of  Talleyrand 
presents  us  with  a  picture  of  a  man  of  genius,  at  strife  with  the 
greatest  events  of  modern  history  :  sometimes  their  friend  and  di- 
rector, at  others  their  decided  opponent,  always  their  superior  and 
master.  While  the  most  distinguished  men  of  each  successive  order 
of  things  sunk  beneath  the  pressure,  and  perished  around  him,  the 
immortal  brow  of  the  great  diplomatist  rose  calm  and  serene  above 
the  confusion  of  each  successive  change,  crowned  with  the  ensigns 
of  victory. 

When  the  worn-out  elements  of  the  old  French  government  were 
in  89  dashed  to  pieces  and  dissolved  by  the  shock  of  new  and  more 
energetic  principles,  when  the  whole  faoric  of  society  was  remodel- 
led and  recast,  it  was  in  the  natural  order  of  things  that  men  of 
profound  thought,  of  energetic  daring,  and  boundless  ambition, 
should  rise  pre-eminent  over  the  multitude,  by  the  force  and  vigour 
of  their  own  genius^  and  become  identified  with  the  great  events  of 
the  period.  It  is  among  the  men  thus  distinguished  for  the  spirit, 
perseverance,  and  address  with  which  they  directed  the  first  effiuts 
of  the  new  for  the  demoHtion  of  the  old  system,  that  we  first  meet 
the  name  of  Talleyrand  de  Perigord  associated  vrith  the  events  of 
his  times.  Though  allied  in  principle  to  the  great  men  of  the  move- 
ment, and  often  marching  at  their  head,  Tsdleyrand  preserved  an 
historical  character  distinct  and  peculiar ;  if  we  could  suppose  a 
man  cast  amid  the  wild  uproar  of  the  revolution,  bearing  in  his  out- 
ward man  all  the  traces  of  the  agitation  of  the  epoch,  while  his 
heart  was  calm  and  his  judgment  unclouded ;  if  we  can  suppose  a 
man  gifted  with  such  extraordinary  coolness  and  self-possession, 
weighing  in  his  own  mind  the  character  of  the  great  events  that 
were  passing  before  him,  embracing  their  most  distant  results  at 
one  wide  and  comprehensive  view,  and,  with  an  almost  superhnman 
sagacity  and  acuteness,  marking  their  favourable  and  unfiivoorable 
|x)ints ;  if  after  having  thus  weighed  events  in  his  mind,  he  shaped 
the  course  most  favourable  to  his  own  fortunes,  and  that  that  course 
was  uniformly  attended  with  success  \  that  man  would  give  us  a 
powerful  image  of  Prince  Talleyrand, — we  should  have  the  truest 
picture  of  Talleyrand. 

Charles  Maurice  Talleyrand  was  bom  at  Paris  in  the  year  1754. 
His  femily  enjoyed  the  sovereignty  of  Querey  during  the  middle 
ages.  The  name  of  Talleyrand  seems  to  have  been  originally  the 
denomination  of  an  estate  or  territory.  It  was  formerly  written 
Talferan,  Tailleran,  Talairand,  and  Taleiran,  and  was  assumed  at 
the  commencement  of  the  twelfth  century  by  the  Counts  of  Perigord, 
who  were  descended  in  a  right  line  from  Boson  I.  Count  de  la 
Marche.     Helie  V.  who  succeeded  his  father  Boson  III.  in  1116,  is 


The  Political  Ufe  of  Prince  Talleyrand.  3121 

the  first  we  meet  with  the  annexed  title  of  Talleyrand.  His  third 
son  Helie  Talleyrand  was  the  chief  of  the  branch  of  the  Counts  of 
Giignolds,  who  became  princes  of  Chalais  and  Talleyrand.  The 
Counts  of  Perigord  were  descended  from  the  eldest  son  of  Helie  V . 
After  the  extinction  of  this  line  of  Counts  of  Perigord,  the  younger 
branch,  known  as  Counts  de  Grignols,  and  afterwards  Pnnces  of 
Chalais  and  Talleyrand,  has  continued  down  to  our  days. 

Of  the  early  years,  the  education,  character,  and  domestic  posi- 
tion of  the  young  diplomatist,  we  profess  our  utter  ignorance ;  we 
commence  with  the  period  when  he  assumed  a  position  that  drew 
upon  him  the  attention  of  his  countrymen. 

Before  he  had  quite  completed  his  twenty-sixth  year,  we  find  him 
figuring  in  the  high  and  responsible  capacity  of  agent-general  of  the 
Clergy,  in  1780.  In  conformity  with  the  spirit  of  the  times,  he  had 
embraced  the  ecclesiastical  profession,  from  necessity  rather  than 
inclination.  Under  the  garb  of  the  priest,  which  he  .abhorred,  Tal- 
leyrand cherished  an  ardent  love  of  independence,  and  that  same 
garb  proved  of  the  most  decided  efficacy  towards  obtaining  it.  His 
comprehensive  intelligence,  and  the  peculiar  tact  of  his  mind,  drew 
upon  him  the  admiration  of  his  order ;  they  £suicied  he  was  devoted 
to  their  interests,  and  they  selected  him  to  represent  them.  The 
conspicuous  position  of  agent-general  was  soon  merged  in  the  more 
brilliant  title  of  Bishop  of  Autun,  which  was  conferred  upon  him  on 
the  30th  of  November,  1788. 

From  this  elevated  position  Talleyrand  cast  his  penetrating  glance 
around  him.  He  saw  at  once  the  nature  of  the  drama  that  was 
about  to  ensue,  and  determined  upon  the  course  he  was  to  steer. 
A  letter  of  Mirabeau  to  the  Minister  Colonne,  gives  us  at  once  the 
course  he  had  fixed  upon,  and  the  progress  he  had  already  made 
in  it. 

^^  You  express  your  regret  (says  this  document)  at  my  refiisal  toem- 
ploy  my  feeble  talents  in  giving  a  form  to  your  fine  conceptions :  pray, 
allow  me  to  point  out  to  you  a  man  in  every  respect  worthy  of  this 
high  mark  of  confidence.  M.  1' Abb^  Perigord  unites  to  really  solid 
and  well  practised  talents,  a  profound  circumspection,  and  a  seeresy 
above  all  proof.  You  cannot  possibly  select  a  man  more  discreet, 
more*  scrupulously  observant  of  the  duties  of  gratitude  and  friend- 
ship, more  anxious  to  do  good,  less  desirous  of  partaking  of  the 
glory  of  others,  more  convinced  that  it  belongs  of  right  wholly  and 
entirely  to  the  man  who  has  the  wisdom  to  conceive  and  the  courage 
to  execute. 

^'He  possesses  another  advantage  with  respect  to  you;  his  influence 

over  P represses  the  defects  of  one  with  whom  they  seek  to 

frighten  you,  and  calls  into  play  all  those  great  qualities,  those  rare 
talents,  which  are  becoming  more  necessary  to   you   every   day. 

There    is  not  another  man  who  can  manage  M.  P like  M. 

rAbb^  de  Perigord :  the  former  will  be  most  usefid  to  you  for  large 
money  transactions,  without  which  you  will  not  have  it  in  your 


Zn  Tke  PciUioal  Liff  t^  Prinee  TUIflyrmf. 

power  to  tempt  another.  You  cub  oonfide  to  H.  FAbM  ^  Fsi- 
gord  the  delicate  buaiiiesa  which,  more  paiticiiferly  in  a  immit 
like  the  i^eeenty  you  should  not  abandoti  to  cd^ke,  &e." 

Such  was  the  asceadaxicy  Talleyrand  had  already  aoquired  over 
the  mind  of  Mirabeau.  £^t  this  friendship  was  not  of  hog  m- 
tinuance.  What  led  to  this  rapture  ?  Did  Mirabeau  penetiate  tbe 
real  character  of  Talleyrand  ?  It  is  impoesible  to  say.  Certna  it 
is,  that  his  chaAge  of  style  is  most  extmcnrdinafy.  It  is  for  the 
public  to  decide  upon  the  justice  of  the  bittar  accusations  tooHmti 
in  a  subsequent  letta:  to  the  Count  d'Antraigues,  it  runs  thus:— 

"  For  these  last  ten  days  I  have  requested  to  see  you  ten  lines 
A  day.  How  and  where  shall  I  obtain  a  sight  of  you  ?  Csa  it  be 
possible  that  I  have  lost  your  friendship?  and  this  too  at  the  momeot 
*when^  hiteac  b^ng  indebted  to  you  for  my  eseape  from  }ny  pecMOi- 
tors,  after  being  indebted  to  you  lev  the  consolations  and  iht  ks- 
jninatioa  of  my  exite^  I  come  with  a  haart  overflowing  with  9^ 
iude. 

^  If  I  have  lost  you«  I  must  only  blame  my  destmy^  since  I  asrcr 
had  any  claim*  upcm  you,  beycmd  that  proceeding  from  your  elsvs- 
tion  of  mindy  your  greatness  of  soul^  and  your  sensibility  of  hevt 

**  Your  little  note,  worthy  of  the  pupil  of  Jean  Jacques,  has  povrel 
balm  upon  my  lac^ated  hearL  I  have  nothing  to  find  bvii  vith 
but  its  brevity ;  my  situation,  darkened  as  it  is,  has  been  by  the 
infamous  conduct  of  the  Abbe  Perigord  become  intolearabk.  I  o|- 
<dose  you  the  letter  I  haive  written  to  him  :  consida:  it,  anlsend  it 
to  him.  Send  it  to  him,  I  repeat,  for  it  gives  me  pleasum  to  IUbI' 
tiiat  YOU  know  not  the  man,  and  I  feel  confident  that  to  every  w^ 
of  a  disposition  similar  to  yours,  he  must  foo:  ev«r  r^nain  unksflvn- 
.But  the  history  of  my  misfortunes  has  thrown  me  into  hit  h^> 
and  I  must  still  have  recourse  to  policy  with  this  vile,avariciouM^ 
J>ase  intriguer ;  it  is  mud  and  money  that  he  wants*  For  mosey  1|^ 
has  sold  his  hcwiours  and  his  friend ;  for  money  he  would  sdl  v» 
soul,  and  he  would  be  right,  for  he  would  exchange  filth  for  gol^- 
Adieu,  my  deiu:  count,  I  am  unhappy ;  you  wiU  not  abandon  me;  I 
have  a  pledge  of  it  in  the  services  you  have  rendered  me ;  yea  ti" 
not  withdraw  them^  for  we  beoome  attached  to  the  good  ve  if^ 
d<me.  ''  Signed  le  C.  de  MurateW' 

''Paris,  Rue  St.  Anne,  Hotel  de  Gen^,  Apnl  28, 1787:' 

However,  the  semblance  of  a  reconciliation  was  rendaredndoe^^ 
by  the  circumstances  in  which  they  were  placed,  but  it  w^  ^'^ 
a  few  hours  previous  to  the  death  of  Mirabeau^  that  the  jes%^ 
plaoe  between  them. 

Meantime  the  Revolution  was  advancing  with  rapid  stridsSi  I^ 
approach  of  the  greett  convulsion,  which  was  yet  to  lift  temideB  ^ 
thrones  upon  it,  like  xeeds  up<Mi  a  wave,  was  felt  in  the  ^ytcvt^ 
of  t\\e  earth,  and  the  overshadowings  of  the  air.  Those  dM9^ 
great  ambition  and  great  talents  who  had  the  jiagaoity  M>  ^911^ 


Tkt  PoUiicMl  Life  of  Prince  TaUeyrtrnd.  ^28 

ilie  oomiag  ^ook,  were  not  dow  to  pr<^t  by  the  opportuaity  of 
mounting  up  to  power,  upon  the  rains  of  eidsting  institutions.  The 
States-General  were  summoned.  The  monarchy  and  the  revohition 
entered  tiie  lists,  and  encountered  each  other  hand  to  hand.  The 
eonfliet  promised  to  be  tremendous.  Talleyrand  had  been  returned 
for  the  JBaiikige  of  Autun.  In  this  conjuncture  he  acted  with  cha* 
ndteristie  caution,  and  characteristic  eno'gy  ;  cwition  in  4^iding 
npon  his  course,  and  energy  in  giving  effect  to  that  decision.  He 
Ax^esaw  the  min  of  the  court,  and  1^  abandoned  it.  The  polished 
and  obseqnioas  courtier  was  transformed  into  the  severe  and  simple 
ivpublican.  The  Stales-General  had  met,  and  their  stormy  do- 
htkeB  had  b^;un. 

The  verification  of  their  powers  gave  rise  to  a  violent  discussion ; 
i^^jecting  the  precedents  of  former  assemblies,  and  guided  only  by 
equitable  principles,  the  deputies  of  the  tiers  etat,  were  for  per- 
leeling  this  verification  in  common.  This  was  met  with  violent 
apposition  on  the  part  of  the  deputies  cf  the  nobilty  and  dergy. 
Sliming  all  appeals  to  equity,  they  deprecated  a  departure  from 
established  usages. 

I'he  king  was  obliged  to  interpose  between  the  disputants.  He 
a|qpotnted  commissi<Hiers,  with  the  keep^  of  the  seals  at  their  head, 
ta  investigate  and  settle  the  difficulty.  To  t^ose  were  added,  com- 
missioners delegated  from  the  three  bodies  respectively:  among 
those  deputed  by  the  clergy,  foremost  was  the  bishop  of  Autun. 

The  commissioners  met  at  the  house  of  M.  De  Barentin,  ke^eir 
ef  •  tjse  seals.  Overtures  were  made  which  met  with  the  approba- 
iSon  of  the  nobles  and  the  clei^y,  bat  the  -tiers  etat  was  obstinate 
«a  refbsing  all  comjNnomise.  From  the  13th  to  the  19th  of  June, 
Ilia  delegates  of  the  cleigy  ddibeorated  on  the  question,  ''  Should 
Iheff  ratify  their  powers  in  common  in  the  great  hall,  or  should  they 
ntiiy  them  separately."  Such  was  the  que-stion  proposed;  the 
Imhop  of  Autun  took  a  prominent  part  in  the  discussion.  His  rea- 
-sening  and  address  were  chiefly  instrumental  in  procuring  a  dedsion 
of  the  majority  in  favocu:  of  the  ddinitive  ratification  being  per* 
#DrBied  in  the  general  assembly,  with  a  reservation  of  the  distinct 
lion  of  the  oiaers.  The  bishop  triumphed,  and  the  court  was  in 
^OBStematioa.  Until  the  last  moment  they  had  counted  upon  hip 
anpport.  To  remedy  tiie  evil,  no  oth«r  eicpedient  suggested  itsetf 
than  that  of  offering  a  larff e  bribe  to  Talleyrand,  whom  they  knew 
%o  be  embarrassed,  on  condition  that  he  would  exert  himself  to  neu- 
4ndi«e  the  effect  of  the  resolution,  and,  if  possible,  to  undo  his  own 
'Work.     The  proposal  was  met  with  this  reply:    ''  The  coffers  of 

eblic  opinion  will  yield  me  a  reconq>ense  frur  beyond  that  you  ofibr. 
enccforward  the  money  of  the  court  must  prove  fetal  to  the  re» 
Mver;  and  as  it  is  absolutdy  necessary  that  I  should  enrich  my* 
aetf,  I  propose  building  my  fortune  on  a  more  solid  foundation.^' 
When  the  list  of  the  majority  who  had  voted  ht  the  verification  in 
eomman  was  lead  in  the  hall  of  the  assembled  dq>ntiee,  the  navies 
VOL.  III.  (1834.)  NO.  III.  a  a 


334  The  FoHtieal  Life  of  Prince  TalUynnd. 

oi  the  bisbc^  of  Autdn  and  of  the  archbishop  of  VieiVBa  wehi,  ve- 
ceived  with  acdaraation.  Those  prelates  were  the  first  to  eaaj  the 
resolution  into  effect. 

This  question  of  the  ratification  of  powers  was  succeeded  by  an- 
other equally  perplexing  and  embarrassing.     Many  of  the  depati^ 
sent  to  the  assembly  of  the  states-general  had  been  bound  by  tfajcirjff 
constituencies  to  confine  themselves  to  the  support  of  some  speeifi^^ 
measures  for  refi>rming  the  abuses  in  the  mode. of  assessing  an^^ 
levying  the  taxes.     When  the  plan  of  a  constitution  was  submitted 
to  the  assembly,  these  pledged  deputies  declared  their  incapaeity  lo 
join  in  the  general  deliberations,  alleging  that  to  do  so  were  to  exoeed 
the  powers  vested  in  them  by  their  constituents.     This  <q)enited 
as  a  virtual  suspension  of  the  public  business.    A  luminous  discos- 
siou  arose,  in  which  the  acuteness  and  eloquence  of  the  bishop  i^ 
Autun  shone  pre-eminent.     From  that  moment  his  reputation  as  a 
debater  was  firmly  established.    As  the  question  of  pledges  has^ 
late  occupied  the  attention  of  the  British  parliament^  perhaps  it  may 
not  be  uninteresting  to  observe  how  Talleyrand  treated  the  question 
at  that  early  period.     We  can  only  afibrd  room  for  a  few  extracts 
bearing  immediately  upon  the  question  at  issue.     After  an  inge- 
nious statement  of  the  question  he  proceeds  thus: — ^^I  have  put  to 
myself  all  the  questions  which  occurred  to  me  as  belonging  to  this 
subject.     If  it  be  asked,  should  the  powers  of  deputies  be  altogether 
free  and  uncontrolled,  my  answer  is  this :  I  can  conceive  two  species 
of  powers  prcgudicifd  to  hbarty;  the  first  are  powers  which  wo  may 
denominate  limited ;  the  second,  powers  positively  imperative.     The 
'first  may  exist.     Those  two  words  seem  to  approximate  closely, but 
they  are  widely  separated  by  examples.     I  shall  be  more  exj^cit. 
We  can  conceive    three  species  of  limited  powers.      A  consti- 
tuency may  limit  the  powers  of  its  representative  with  respect  to 
their  duration,  their  object,  and  with  respect  to  the  particular  period 
when  they  shall  be  exercised.     With  respect  to  their  duration: 
thus,  many  constituencies  have  delisted  their  powers  for  a  twrm  not 
exceeding  a  single  year ;  that  term  expired,  the  powers  of  the  deputy 
expire  with  it;  to  enable  him  to  exercise  them  again,*  they  muat.he 
renewed  by^  the  same  constituency.     With  respect  to  their  objeot: 
thus,  a  constituency  may  very  properly  addsess  its  representeli^ 
thus :  ^  I  send  you  for  this  paiiicular  boatness  and  for  no  ethsr^' 
As  fitr  as  regards  this  specific  business,  which  must  constitute  the 
sole  end  and  object  of  the  mission,  the  deputy  will  be  in 
of  all  the  powers  which  the  constituency  if  present  would 
otherwise  he  would  not  be  their  representative,  but  beyond  thftt 
business  he  would  have  none.     Again>  a  constituency  may  limit 
the  powers  of  its  representative  with  respect  to  the  precise  time  at 
which  they  are  to  be  exercised,  and  may  with  perfect  proprie^  Mf 
to  its  deputy,  ^I  do  not  empower  you  to  vote  for  the suppUes* mitol 
such  and  such  a  measure  has  been  definitively  settled.'    If  the.  m^f- 
jority  of  ocmstitueneies  had  held  this  languagSjrthen  in  thaereatjsf 


Tke  PMiieul  Life  of  Frvkee  Taihyrand,  325 

%  dflpaty  pnqxMing  to  vote  the  supplies  prenous  to  the  settlemeiit 
of  the  specific  measure^  the  majoritT  of  deputies  must  o^)08e  the 
motion,  for  they  would  be  without  tne  power  of  supporting  it^ 
•    '^  These  I  apprehend  to  be  the  three  limits  which  constituencies^ 
(always  subject  to  the  decision  of  the  majority)  may  legaUy  impose 
^  iqx)n  the  powers  confided  to  their  deputies,  but  these  limitizing  in- 
^^iunetions  have  nothing  in  common  with  the  injunctions  positivdy 
^^imperative  or  prohibitory,  mentioned  in  the  motion.     There  cannot 
be  the  slightest  doubt  that  the  powers  confided  to  the  duNities 
cannot  be  curtailed  by  the  depositaries  of  those  powers,  its  mr  as 
rdates  to  the  precise  object  and  time  of  their  exercise;  but  admit- 
ting that  the  object  and  the  time  be  once  distinctly  det^mined,  oan 
the  powers  granted  for  that  object  be  subjected  to  imperative  or  pro- 
hibitory clauses? 

^^  I  have  firequently  put  the  question  to  myself,  What  is  the  nature 
and  force  of  an  imperative  injunction  ?  I  have  been  able  to  discover 
but  three  sorts.  A  constituency  may  have  said  to  its  deputy,  at 
least  in  terms  equivalent,  I  command  you  to  give  expression  to  such 
and  audi  an  opinion,  to  say  yes  or  no  when  such  and  such  a  mea- 
sure shall  be  pn^oaed,  or  I  do  not  empower  you  to  deliberate  in 
such  and  such  a  case ;  or  again,  I  order  you  to  withdraw  if  such  and 
anch  an  opinion  is  adopted.  These,  I  think,  will  be  found  to  com- 
prdiend  every  possible  caae ;  for  assuredly  we  cannot  rank  among 
the  imperative  clauses,  the  numerous  articles  of  the  hustings  which 
are  sin^y  declaziations  of  the  wishes  of  constituencies.  If  this  were 
the  case,  the  national  assembly  would  be  perfectly  incompetent  to 
deal  with  any  measure  unconnected  with  taxation.  All  that  wottU 
be  necessary  would  be  to  count  the  opinions  of  each  constituency 

rn  each  article,  and  the  most  inexperienced  clerk  would  suffice  for 
performance  of  that  operation. 
''Now,  proceeding  upcm  just  principles,  it  follows  that  these  three 
imperative  injunctions  cannot  have  been  given  by  constituencies^^ 
a  conetitaency  cannot  have  said  to  its  dq>uty,  I  command  you  to 
give  expression  to  such  and  such  an  opinion  when  a  certain  question 
shall  be  debated :  for  why  do  they  send  a  deputy  ?  unqiiestionably 
to  deliberate,  to  take  his  share  in  the  dehberations.  Now  it  is  im^ 
possible  to  dehberate  where  thoe  is  a  fcnrced  opinion.  Moreover, 
&»  individual  constitaency  cannot  pionounce  with  oertainty  what 
woald  be  its  opinion  after  the  question  had  been  fireely  discussed  by 
bM  the  other  constituenciea ;  it  cannot  then  fix  and  settle  it  by  anti- 
cqpatioD ;  in  a  word,  (and  it  is  this  that  truly  constitutes  a  deputy 
a  TOpresentative)  the  constituency,  to  point  out  the  goal,  to  deter- 
mine the  end  of  the  exertions  of  a  deputy,  it  rests  with  him  to 
eboose  the  path  and  to  make  such  combinations  as  shall  be  vaoBt 
«4eci(nve  in  giving  e£fect  to  those  exertions.  However,  although  I 
Uimk  that  this  injunction  deviates  from  principle,  and  that  every 
previdusfy  expressed  opinion  should  be  looked  upon  as  nothing 
asoiiallian  a  {proposition  aobmitted  fiir  discussion,  and  in  a  great 

A  a2 


tt6  TJ^  PaUiUmi  Lifa  ^  Ptvm  3U%««itf . 

mcsfliire  left  to  the  ooEDacieiioe  of  deputies^  I  ocmfesB  that  I  rnrngH 
not  parroe  this  iiqHnctkm  with  the  Hune  severity  as  the  other  tve, 
especially  at  the  first  sitting  of  the  states-geneFal,  when  a  sort  of 
uneasiness  may  well  be  excused,  when  every  thing  that  interests  the 
'  eonstitation,  legislature,  and  all  the  rights  of  mankind,  seems  to 
haye  been  confided  to  the  deputies ;  and  above  all,  if  this  injonoticMi 
was  only  binding  on  a  small  number  of  individuals.  As  fi>r  the 
other  two,  which  alone  are  comprehended  in  my  motion,  I  hold  the 
dause  containing  them  to  be  absolutely  null. 

"  No  constituencies  could  say  to  its  deputy, '  You  shall  not  deli* 
berate  in  such  a  ease,'  for  to  deUberate  when  the  other  eonstituen* 
ctes  deUberate  is  at  once  a  right  and  a  duty ;  and  as  all  deliberaiioa 
is  the  desire  of  the  majority  when  it  commences  and  its  result  when 
it  ends,  to  be  unable  to  deUberate  when  the  others  deUberate,  is  an 
'Often  omtraventkm  of  the  general  will,  and  an  erroneous  estimate  of 
its  authority.  Ag^ain,  the  injunction,  ^  I  command  you  to  withdram 
if  foch  an  opinion  prevails,'  is  still  more  reprehensible,  for  this^is 
openly  to  announce  a  rupture,  and  it  is  a  still  more  expUdt  deda- 
ration  of  a  wish  to  make  the  voice  of  the  great  collective  body  yield 
to  the  voice  of  a  particular  constituence  or  province." 

The  destruction  of  the  Bastile  by  the  hands  of  an  infuriated 
mob  followed  close  upon  this  ev^it.  A  oonfiised  report  of  the  cii^ 
cumstance  reached  tibe  assembly  while  it  was  sitting.  A  denta- 
tion was  instantly  despatched  to  examine  and  rqport  the  real  cir- 
Vamstances  of  the  case.  The  Bishop  of  Autun  was  a  piember  of 
this  deputation.  Nothing  could  exceed  the  warmth  of  their  reo^ 
tion  by  the  people  as  they  passed  along;  the  multitude  poured  hkss- 
iags  on  their  heads.  Th«ir  rq)ort  was  communicated  to  the  aasem- 
Uy  in  the  sitting  of  the  16th  of  July. 

On  the  14th  of  August  a  motion  was  made  that  prior  to  all 
business,  the  following  resolutions  should  be  passed. 

ist.  The  general  equalization  of  taxation. 

SInd.  That  all  feudal  rights  should  be  purchased  by  the  several 
communities  on  an  average  valuation  of  ten  years. 

3rd.  That  thosefeudal  exactions  d^iominatedCorvees, Mortmains, 
and  other  personal  services,  should  be  prohibited  without  redemptioa. 

These  resokitions  were  passed  with  UBaaimous  q[>pzobatio&.  Tbs 
Bishop  of  Autun  was  among  the  fbremost  in  Iratding  them  his 
support,  and  when  the  exclusive  privile^  of  killing  game  w«8  nasn- 
tioned  as  a  grievance,  both  he  and  the  rest  of  the  clergy  proposed 
its  abolition.  Then  came  the  memorable  night  of  tl^  sacctfioea. 
The  authority  and  example  of  I'alleyrand  put  a  powerfol  impuba 
lo  this  consummation.  In  a  single  night,  the  triple  powers,  feudal, 
aristocratic,  »id  parUamentary,  were  at  once  diK>lished,  and  the 
cultivator  of  the  soil  was  placed  on  an  equality  with  his  miondam 
lord  and  master.  In  a  few  days  aflter  this  occnrrenoe,  the  Maraiis 
cf  Lacaste,  having  exposed  the  wants  of  the  state,  moved  a  atrn^ 
of  resolutions,  which  involved  the  siqipression  of  tithes,  when  tile 


Bishop,  of  IVnttm  asMnted.  But  he  had  a  more  signal  triaxDi^k  m 
gaining  popularity  and  influence,  objects  which  he  has  never  lost 
sight  of,  in  his  popular  sentiments  upon  the  rights  oi  man  and  of 
dtizen:  thus  raising  himself  from  the  very  first  labours  of  the 
National  Assembly  to  its  first  ranks.  He  successively  caused  the 
bailiwick  of  Autim  to  make  a  formal  tender  of  resigning  all  its  pri- 
vil^es,  provided  the  other  districts  of  the  kingdom  should  equally 
renounce  theirs:  he  approved  of  the  plate  of  the  church  being 
devoted  to  the  public  service,  and  declared  that  its  property  also 
might  be,  without  a  violation  of  vested  rights,  confiscated  to  the 
interests  of  the  state.  It  is  not  difficult  to  see  what  effect  such 
language  would  at  that  time  have  within  and  without  the  National 
Assembly ;  but  whatever  generosity  it  seemed  to  attribute  to  the  wily 
Talleyrand,  it  was  yet  of  a  cheap  nature ;  for  his  attachment  to  his 
order  was  anything  but  sincere,  and  all  hopes  from  it  gradually  giving 
way.  We  are  not  discussing  the  abstract  question  of  right  as  to 
church  property;  we  are  only  stating  the  hand  which  the  subject 
of  the  work  before  us  had  in  its  accomplishment,  at  the  pmoa  of 
tiie  French  Revolution.  The  measure,  however,  was  not  passed 
until  sometime  afterwards,  when  Mirabeaa  carried  it  by  storm. 

The  National  Assembly  was  at  this  period  always  embarrassed 
by  the  disorderly  state  of  the  finances,  and  on  the  4th  of  December, 
1789,  the  Bishop  of  Autun  proposed  the  establishment  of  ana» 
tional  bank,  with  a  number  of  measures  relating  to  the  creation  of 
a  new  paper  money,  which  were  partially  adopted.  We  mention 
this,  that  we  may  have  an  opportunity  of  giving  him  credit  ice 
having  studied  those  matters  more  deeply  than  any  other  man  in 
France  at  the  time.  But  the  address  which  he  a  few  days  after- 
wards moved  should  be  proclaimed  to  the  people,  is  nothing  short 
of  a  masterpiece  of  sound  reasoning,  clear  logic,  and  j>arliamentary 
eloquence,  presenting  at  one  glance  a  complete  review  of  all  the 
Assembly  had  already  done,  and  a  no  less  compressive  sketch  of 
what  it  had  yet  to  achieve.  This  address  led  to  his  almost  imme- 
diate  election  to  the  presidency,  which  he  fbr  some  time  retained. 

The  National  Assembly  contained  tBl  the  elements  that  have 
since  prevailed  in  France,  each  taking  a  particular  direction,  and 
its  history,  finr  nearly  the  last  fifty  years,  may  be  said  to  be  com- 
posed of  the  struggle  between  these  parties.  A  minute  history  of 
the  clubs  that  were  originated  about  this  time,  would  establish  the 
same  point.  Whatever  share  the  Bishop  of  Autun  might  have  in 
these  societies,  all  his  conduct  seems  to  have  amounted  to  thisy-— 
to  urge  the  progress  of  the  revolution  to  its  extreme  verge,  but  by 
no  means  to  the  issue  in  which  it  spent  itsdf.  The  very  unifor- 
mity of  weights  and  measures  throughout  France,  and  to  be 
established  with  England,  proposed  by  Tdleyrand,  had,  in  its 
jwspective,  a  political  union  of  the  two  countries,  which  of  late 
yeatt  has  been  happily  realised,  and  at  a  period  when  the  same 


!) 


378  Tke  PoUHe^  lA/e  rf  Prmee  TUIeyfttU. 

sagacious  and  dexterous  man  reaps  the  rewards  he,  no  doubt,  ferty 
years  ago  contemplated. 

The  duplicity,  the  wavering  (because  ignorant  which  side  was  to 
be  uppermost),  the  atheism  of  the  Bishop,  are  each  and  all  strongly 
charged  against  him  by  the  author  of  these  memoirs,  in  reference 
to  the  grand  festival  that  was  solemnly  and  magnificently  cele- 
brated at  the  Champ  de  Mars,  on  occasion  of  the  Federal  Compact 
of  France,  enacted  by  the  National  Assembly.  The  nation  at  tliis 
time  may  be  said  to  have  been  without  a  government,  each  succeeding 
day  despoiled  the  crown  bit  by  bit,  of  its  ancient  rights,  till  in  the 
course  of  a  year,  nothing  remained  sj^bolic  of  royalty ;  the  na^ 
tional  flag  was  even  changed.  But  what  belongs  more  imme- 
diately to  our  present  purpose,  M.  de  Talleyrand  was  about  to  be 
suspended  between  ecclesiastical  and  secular  life;  for  he  was 
amongst  the  very  first  to  pronounce  the  oath  declaratory  of  the 
civil  constitution  of  the  clergy,  in  which  sweeping  measure  is  to  be 
found  the  division  of  the  Gallican  Church  into  priests  who  had 
taken  the  oath,  and  those  who  had  not. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  year  1791,  the  electors  of  the  city  of 
Paris  made  choice  of  the  Bishop,  to  fill  the  situation  of  deputy  for 
the  department  of  the  Seine,  when  those  clergymen  who  protested, 
to  no  purpose,  against  their  civil  constitution,  declared  they  wonld 
no  longer  take  part  in  the  debate  on  the  question.  It  was  now, 
when  those  who  refiised  to  take  the  oath  lost  their  benefices,  and 
were  reduced  to  beggary,  that  our  hero  wrote  thus,  to  a  lair  friend 
of  his,  a  married  woman^  the  mother  of  his  little  Charles — 

"  Important  business  and  harassing  creditors  will  deprive  me  of  tlie  plea- 
sure of  spending  the  evening  of  twelfth  night  with  you  as  I  had  promised.* 
Unfortunate  kings !  I  rather  think  that  their  festivids  and  their  reign  witt 
soon  be  over.  Mirabeau  himself  is  fearful  that  we  are  proceeding  too  ra- 
pidly and  with  too  great  strides  towards  a  republic.  What  a  repoblie 
would  that  be,  composed  of  thirty  millions  of  corrupt  men !  For  my  own 
part,  I  much  fear  that  before  we  come  to  that,  the  fanatics  will  light  their 
torches,  and  the  anarchists  raise  their  scaffolds ;  and  who  knows  how 
many  of  us  will  escape  either  the  religious  flames  or  the  political  gibbets ! 
I  must  in  the  meantime  manage  my  a&irs  in  such  a  way  that  id  I  am. 
wrecked,  I  may  not  find  myself  without  resources  on  the  coast  where  I 
may  happen  to  be  cast.  I  hope  to  receive  to-morrow  a  considerable  sum 
which  the  Duke  owes  me.  This  sum,  with  what  I  already  ikmscss  in 
assignats.  would  enable  us  to  live  in  some  distant  country,  if  circumstances 
required  it. 

••  What  did  you  think  of  the  farce  of  yesterday  ?  The  galleries  were  v^ 
full  that  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  speak  to  you.  What  hypocrites ! 
they  have  certainly  achieved  a  masterpiece  !  You  must  have  remarked 
how  studied  their  speeches  were — ^how  affected  *their  resignation !  The 
impression  they  made  upon  me,  however,  prevented  me  from  appearing  at. 
the  tribune,  where  I  should  have  felt  great  pleasure  in  unmadcing  thaok 
They  knew  perfecdy  well  that  they  ran  but  little  risk  in  exchanging  their, 
episcopal  mitres  against  a  pretended  martyrdom,  otherwise  the  cowards 


Tki  FOHcal  Life  of  Prhee  TdUyrand.  8S9 

woold  not  imve  ahown  themselves  so  valiant.  My  dear  love*  I  am  really 
indignant  when  I  reflect  npon  the  fEicility  of  making  dupes  in  this  world« 
The  Capets,  male  and  female»  have  given  excellent  lessons  of  superstition^ 
as.  also  have  certain  cardinals  with  whom  patriotism  is  certainly  not  a  car- 
(^lal  virtue.  I  really  wish  they  would  a^t  their  comedies  at  Rome,  and 
not  at  Paris,  where  their  apostolic  mummeries  are  out  of  date.  Their 
martyrdom  may,  I  fancy,  he  placed  upon  a  par  with  their  orthodoxy.  All 
this  has  become  obsolete,  although  some  good  kind  of  people  are  still  ex- 
cellent Christians,  and  ignorant  enough  to  believe  that  which  their  grand- 
fathers believed.  Though  all  these  ridiculous  affairs  have  given  me  a  great 
deal  of  trouble,  I  have,  however,  no  reason  to  complain,  for  they  have 
even  been  more  profitable  to  me  than  I  expected.  All  my  debts  are  paid, 
and  I  have  enough  to  purchase  the  popedom  of  Frauce  or  of  Rome,  if  either 
was  to  be  sold. 

'*  I  shall  sop  with  you  on  Monday.     How  is  Charles'  deafness  ?     I 
embrace  you  both ;  bum  this  letter.     Adieu  !" — ^vol.  i.  pp.  316 — 318. 

:  The  Bishop  of  Autun  was  the  only  bishop  possessing  a  benefice 
in  France  who  had  taken  the  oath.     This  conduct,  and  his  hand 
in  consecrating  new  prelates,  in  the  stead  of  those  who  had  been 
displaced,  with  other  irregularities,  led  to  his  suspension  and  ex- 
communication  by  the  Pope.     Talleyrand  had  many  other  accusa- 
tions and  reproaches  levelled  against  him  at  this  crisis,  which  he 
parried  in  the  best  way  he  could.     But  we  find  his  statements  in 
the  Assembly  continuing  to  be  highly  honoured,  which  was  still 
more  so,  in  having  been  named  by  Mirabeau,  on  his  death  bed, . 
to  read,  as  it  were,  that  most  contradictory  man's  testamentary 
opinions  on  the  question  of  the  law  of  succession,  which  was  just 
pending,     Talleyrand  was  appointed  to  fill  the  office  vacant  in  the 
Directory  by  Mirabeau's  decease,  and  was  thus  placed  in  the  highest 
administration  of  the  capital,  and  called  npon  to  decide  in  the  most 
important  matters.    After  this,  he  signalized  himself  in  the  As- 
sembly by  various  measures,  in  which  his  foresight  has  been  proved 
to  have  been  very  correct.     But  we  cannot  but  mark  the  tortuous 
path  of  the  s^ent  in  some  of  them,  for  instance,  in  a  petition  to 
the  king,  in  behalf  of  the  ecclesiastics,  who  had  been  deprived  of 
their  livings,  in  consequence  of  their  refusal  to  take  the  oath  to 
the  rivil  constitution  imposed  upon  their  order,  chiefly  through  his 
agency.     Double-dealing,  and  the  Talleyrand-policy,  are  strikingly 
reflected  by  such  conduct. 

Tallevrand  seems  never  to  have  been  an  advocate  for  the  total 
subversion  of  the  former  order  of  things.  He  prudently  classed  him- 
self with  the  oonstitational  royalists;  but  perhaps  this  was  until  the 
time  ehould  come  either  to  sacrifice  the  constitution  to  the  king,  or 
the  king  to  the  constitution.  At  any  rate,  he  knew  the  pretensions  of 
thecdnrt,  those  of  the  clubs,  and  the  plans  of  the  republicans  ;  whilst 
thef  work  before  ns,  would  make  us  believe  that  it  interprets  cor- 
rectly many  motives  and  dispositions,  which  we  do  not  see  how  any 
one  but  the  Searcher  of  Hearts  can  reach.  Hitherto  we  have  ad- 
mitted nothmg  which  the  overt  acts  of  our  hero  do  not  seem  to 


dM^kre;  nor  will  our  limite,  after  taking  np  tb«  aeoood  vdnme  af 
these  memoirs^  permit  ns  to  enter  into  speeulations  otherwise 
founded.  Indeed,  the  magnitude  and  variety  of  the  almost  incre* 
dible  vicissihidea  in  which  he  has  yet  to  figure,  can  only  be  wetf 
slightly  touched  in  our  notices. 

Talleyrand  visited  England  more  than  once   in    1792,  ifaoii^ 
without  any  avowed  mission,  where  he  was  received  very  ooldfy  bj 
our  ministers,  the  court,  end  the  higher  circles.     The  porpeae  eif 
his  visits  was  'to  bring  about  an  alliance  between  England  and 
France,  or  at  least  to  deter  the  former  power  from  t^ng  any 
share  in  the  continental  war  that  was  opening.  ^  All  the  stratagems 
used  were  understood  and  warded  oflf  by  Mr.^Pitt;  and  when  the 
wily  polititian  accompanied  a  formal  embassy,  of  wliich  he  was  to 
\>e  the  soul^  sent  by  the  Girondins,  who  at  this  period  had  reached 
the  climax  of  their  influence^  little  more  respect  was  shown  to  him, 
or  to  the  mission.     But  he  was  at  length  glad  to  seek  an  asylum  in 
this  country,  from  the  fury  of  the  National  Assembly,  who  decreed 
his  impeachment,  not  long  before  Louis  was  cited  to  the  bar  of  the 
Convention.     The  variety  of  his  intrigues,  his  intimacy  with  oppo- 
site parties,  and  readiness  ever  to  serve  the  one  that  was  in  the 
ascendant,  were  with  the  unscrupulous  rulers  for  the  time  being  in 
France,  more  than  sufficient  to  bring  within  somefatal  charge  the  most 
wary  and  experienced.    His  residence  in  England  on  this  oocaaioii, 
was  not  of  long  duration ;  he  was  mistrusted  by  the  other  emigrants, 
and  the  Alien  Bill  refused  him  a  right  to  British  protection.     But 
the  United  States  of  America  received  him;  and  little,  with  all  his 
ibresight,  could  he  then  divine,  that  under  a  successor  of  King 
Georffe,  he  was  one  day  again  to  have  granted  to  him,  on  the  road 
from  Dover  to  London,  the  honours  that  are  bestowed  on  crowned 
heads. 

It  is  written  in  these  volumes,  at  considerable  length,  that  Tal- 
leyrand was  busy  while  in  Engkmd  in  propagating  revolutionarr 
doctrines;  that  Mr.  Pitt  fathomed  his  doings,  and  consequently  had 
him  dismissed  from  the  kingdom.  We  cannot  enter  into  tins  in- 
quiry, neither  can  we  tarry  to  narrate  the  ex-bishop's  love  intrigues 
in  London.  There  is  no  period  in  his  life,  of  whidi  there  are  fewer 
authentic  accounts  than  of  that  spent  in  America.  Ere  long  be 
petitioned  the  National  Convention  to  allow  him  to  return  to 
France,  and  the  prater  was  so  powerfully  backed  by  former  friends 
and  associates,  that  it  could  not  feil  being  granted.  He  returned^ 
and  g|ained  Altona  in  July,  1795,  where  a  aesl  more  gallantries  are 
described  to  have  taken  place,  which  we  have  no  occasion  to  con- 
sider. Prussia  was  no  longer  at  war  with  the  French  republic,  and 
Talleyrand  found  means,  after  he  had  reached  Berlin,  in  his  can* 
tious  steps  towards  his  native  country,  to  make  himself  appear  to 
4he  Directory  capable  of  serving  them  with  information  on  the 
state  of  9pink)n  prevalent  in  the  city  where  he  sojourned.     He 


Tk»  P^mml  Life  f^  Prmee  MUpmiA  m 

wsied  tlipetf  nMntln  in  tiiat  city,  whew  be  was  known  oi%  m 
Citizen  Maiuricer  the  name  he  bore  on  hie  passport. 

On  his  arrival  in  Paris,  a  powerful  sensation  w«s  created,  vA 
be  was  looked  upon  by  the  republican  chiefs  with  suspicion.  He 
had,  however,  ingratiated  himself  with  Barras  by  his  correspond.- 


The  other  DirectOTB»  it  was  tsterted,  were  disposed  towards  him  in 
irent  ways.  La  ReveiU^re  Lapsus  respected  and  even  liked  him  for 
being  a  priest  who  had  cast  off  his  gown.  He  indulged  perLaps  in  the 
hope  of  mahing  the  ex^bishop  one  of  the  ministers  of  his  new  sect  of  Theo- 
^ifailan^opiats,  whom  M.  de  Talleyrand  was  the  first  to  call  an  association 
^  pick-pooketd.  Rewbell  cousidered  him  a  consummate  diplomatist,  who 
in  difficult  negociations  might  prove  of  great  semce  to  the  Directory.  Le-* 
toumeur  knew  little  of  him  and  bestowed  little  thought  on  him  ;  but  in 
Camothe  had  a  decided  antagonist,  and  almost  an  enemy.  Tbe  severity  of 
Camot's  principles  made  him  look  upon  the  worldly  qualities  of  M.  de 
1* alleyrand,  as  vices,  and  he  one  day  said  to  Ch^nier : — 

"  *That  man  brings  with  him  all  the  vices  of  the  old  regime,  withouthaving 
been  able  to  acquire  a  single  virtue  of  the  new  one.  He  possesses  no  fixed 
principles,  but  changes  them  as  he  he  does  lus  linen — adopting  them  ae* 
cording  to  the  fashion  of  the  day.  He  was  a  philosopher,  when  philosophy 
was  in  vogue ;  a  republican  now,  because  it  is  necessary  at  present  to  be 
80»  in  ordtf  to  become  anything ;  to-morrow  he  would  proclaim  and  up- 
^Ml  tyranny » if  he  could  thereby  serve  his  interests.  I  will  not  have  him 
at  any  price ;  and  as  long  as  1  am  at  the  helm  of  state  he  shall  be  nothing.* 

"  '  Caniot  did  not  merely  express  his  opinion,  but  acted  upon  it.  He 
was,  as  is  well  khown,  a  man  of  too  great  rigidity  of  principles  not  to  act 
in  i|coordance  with  his  professions ;  and  from  the  very  first  overtures  which 
Barras  made  in  favour  of  M.  de  Talleyrand,  Camot  showed  the  most  deter* 
niined  opposition  to  the  ex-bishop  being  allowed  any  share  in  public 
affairs.  Camot*s  speech  on  the  occasion  made  so  powerful  an  impression 
iwon  his  colleagues*  that  they  were  entirely  disconcerted  by  the  hostility  of 
bis  opposition,  and  did  not  dare  to  continue  the  debate  for  fear  of  commit- 
ting themselves." — ^vol.  ii.  pp.  171,  172. 

Talleyrand^  nevertheless,  was  not  to  be  discouraged  by  this ) 
and  finding  it  impossible  to  enter  the  cabinet  of  tbe  Directory  by 
tbe  principal  door,  he  bethought  himself  of  a  private  one.  He 
moved  in  the  most  fitshionable  circles  in  Paris,  and  was  often  seen 
at  Madame  de  **  Beauhamais."  Here  he  discovered  how  he  might 
forward  her  union  with  Bonaparte,  which  be  successfully  laboured 
to  dO|  with  a  view  partly,  no  doubt,  of  seconding  the  ambition  of  one 
whose  genius  he  perceived  to  be  of  the  first  order.  He  was  also 
successnil  in  helping  to  secure  the  command  of  the  army  of  Italy  to 
tbe  same  rising  great  man,  and  thence  there  opened  new  objects  to 
bis  and  to  tbe  world's  gaze. 

It  is  alleged  in  the  work  before  us,  that  tbe  ex-bisbop  confined 
not  his  interest  and  intercourse  between  General  Bonaparte  and 
himself,  but  that  be  kept  up  a  correspondence  with  the  exiled 
prince,  the  Count  de  Provence ;  at  least,  that  overtores  were  made 


das  Tke  PaHtiea!  Life  of  Prmee  Tdk^twU. 

to  the  ex^bishop  firom  that  qnarter.  But  whether  listened  taor 
v<dnnteered  we  cannot  be  sure,  fix>m  any  evidence  here  prodnoed. 
He  charge  indeed  was  prefisTred  against  him  at  the  time^  and  he 
became  the  subject  of  universal  conversation,  a  consequence  which 
generally  proves  of  service  to  the  person  talked  aboat,  and  cer- 
tainly consolidated  the  reputation  of  Talleyrand.  He  was  ap- 
pointed  a  member  of  the  iNalional  Institute,  of  the  class  of  moral 
and  political  sciences,  where  he  soon  distinguished  himself  by 

ed 


several  papers  of  great  merit.    These  philosophic  exertions     

to  advance  him  in  April  1797,  to  the  office  of  Minister  for  Fore^ 
Affairs,  in  opposition  to  the  most  violent  resistance  of  Camot. 
But  the  new  minister  soon  became  the  most  influential  man  at 
Paris,  at  the  same  time  that  Bounaparte  became  the  chief  hero 
abroad.  Nor  is  there  any  doubt  but  the  two  understood  each  other 
at  the  time.  Just  let  us  see  what  was  part  of  the  ex-bishop^s 
speech  on  presenting  the  General  to  the  Executive  Directory,  after 
the  termination  of  the  campaign  in  Italy.  These  axe  the  con- 
cluding paragraj^ : — 

"  It  must  have  been  remarked,  and  perhaps  not  without  surprise*  that 
all  my  efforts  tend  on  this  occasion  to  explain,  and  almost  to  lessen  the 
glory  of  Bonaparte.  But  he  will  not  feel  hurt.  Shall  I  own  it  ?  For  a 
moment  I  feared  for  him  that  jealous  uneasiness  which,  ina  youDgrepahlic 
becomes  alarmed  at  every  thing  that  may  be  considered  an  attadc  vpon 
equality.  But  I  was  wrong :  personal  greatness,  far  from  encroachifig 
upon  equality,  constitutes  its  noblest  triumph ;  and  at  the  present  moment 
the  French  republicans  may  look  upon  themselves  as  greater  than  ever. 

"  And  when  1  reflect  upon  every  thing  he  does  to  make  his  glory  to- 
given — upon  his  simplicity  of  taste,  worthy  of  the  ancients ;  upon  his  love 
of  abstract  science ;  upon  the  author  of  his  selection,  that  sublime  Ossian« 
which  seems  to  detach  him  from  earth ; — when  nobody  is  ignorant  of  his  pro- 
found contempt  for  pomp  and  show,  that  miserable  ambition  of  vulgar 
minds ; — ah !  far  from  fearing  what  has  been  termed  his  ambition,  I  feel 
that  it  will  perhaps  become  necessary  some  day  to  solicit  him,  in  order  to 
tear  him  from  the  sweets  of  studious  retirement.  France  will  be  free  :  he 
perhaps  will  never  be  so-— such  is  his  destiny.  At  this  moment  a  fresh 
enemy  appears,  known  for  his  profound  hatred  of  the  French  people,  and 
his  insolent  tyranny  towards  all  the  nations  of  the  earth.  Let  that  enemy, 
by  the  genius  of  Boni^mrte,  be  quickly  punished  for  both ;  and  may  a  peace 
worthy  of  all  the  glory  of  the  republic  be  dictated  to  this  tyrant  of  the  sea ; 
may  it  avenge  France  and  tranquillise  the  world. 

"  But«  carried  away  by  the  pleasure  of  speaking  of  you.  General.  I  per* 
ceive  too  late  that  the  immense  crowd  which  surrounds  is  impatient  to 
hear  yon,  and  you  must  yourself  reproach  me  with  delaying  the  pleasure 
you  will  experience  in  listening  to  him  who  has  a  right  to  address  you  ia 
the  name  of  the  whole  French  nation,  and  at  the  same  time  the  happiness  of 
speaking  to  yon  in  the  name  of  an  old  friendship.'' — vol.  ii.  pp.  213 — 215. 

After  such  language,  whatever  may  be  the  merits  of  the  citizen^ 
can  we  suppose  the  republic  sound?  The  man  to  whom  it  is 
uttered,  must  say  to  himself,  ''those  men  occupy  my  place;  they 
must  retire."     Two  years  afterwards  this  was  put  in  rorce. 


71#  PoUHcai  JUff  9/  Ffinee  Taikyrand.  338 

It  18  corioiiB,  now  that  Talkyraad  represents  in  London  the 
goiremment  of  the  day,  to  read  one  of  his  elaborate  areolar  letters 
addressed  to  all  the  c&plomatic  and  consular  agents  of  the  Frendi 
re|mblic;  so  full  of  hatred  and  contempt  of  the  British  nation,  as 
that  of  which  we  give  the  following  passages: — 

"  France  has  foaght  on  land  for  her  independance  and  oataral  limits ; 
she  is  now  going  to  fight  on  the  sea,  not  for  herself  alone,  but  to  make  the 
Ocean  free  and  emancipate  erery  nation  eiposed  to  British  avidity. 

"  London  has  been  compared  to  Carthage;  the  French  might  better  be 
(XHBpared  to  the  Romans  ;  but  Rome  neglected  commerce  and  the  arts  too 
mudii^ — she  was  intent  only  upon  the  glory  of  conquering  the  world.  She 
made  war  upon  Carthage  as  a  riyal  empire,  not  as  a  commercial  nation. 
How  much  more  respectable  are  the  motiTes  of  the  French  republic  1  It 
is  not  only  the  injuries  of  seTeral  ages  which  she  means  to  avenge  upou 
the  English  government ;  it  is  for  the  joint  interest  of  Europe  and  of  hu- 
manity that  she  aspires  to  re-establish  the  freedom  of  the  seas.  History 
can  produce  nothing  parallel ;  and  in  this  point  of  view  men  of  all  countries 
must  offer  their  prayers  for  the  happy  success  of  our  arms. 

**  It  is  upon  you  that  wUl  devolve  the  duty  of  speaking  sometimes  to 
the  ministerB  of  courts  the  republican  language  in  its  manly  pride,  but  with- 
out being  piodigal  of  such  a  resource,  which  must  always  be  striking  and 
decisive.  Keep  me  always  well-informed  of  whatever  machinations  are 
invented  by  the  infernal  genius  of  the  cabinet  of  London.  The  govem- 
mcsitnust  be  apprized  of  every  thing  on  all  sides  and  in  due  time.  Your 
recpeetive  intelligence,  which  must  be  sought  for  day  after  day,  and  oare« 
fuUy  compared,  diall  be  laid  before  the  Executive  Directory.  You  would 
not  wish  that  it  should  learn  through  any  other  channel  that  which  it  ought 
to  know  first  from  yourselves." — vol.  iL  pp.  227— -229. 

Talleyrand  does  not  seem  to  have  been  at  this  period  of  his  life 
possessed  of  wealth,  yet  in  such  an  anomalous  state  of  society  as 
existed  in  Paris,  when  so  many  cooks,  ladies'-maids  and  other 
¥u^;ar  personages  started  into  notice;  he  gave  the  most  tasteful 
bads  of  any  in  the  city,  at  which  he  was  uniformly  admired  for  the 
graceful  reception  extended  to  every  one.  For  he  has  ever  excelled 
jn  making  business  and  pleasure  go  hand  in  hand.  It  does  not 
clearly  appear  what  share  was  his  in  planninff  the  expedition  to 
Egjpt;  but  no  sooner  had  Buonaparte  quittea  France,  than  the 
oouutxy  was  threatened  with  new  storms :  changes  took  place  in 
the  Directcnry ;  Talleyrand  was  dismissed,  or  rather  he  was  farced 
to  resign,  and  assailed  with  an  almost  unanimous  concert  of  re* 
proaohes  and  grave  charjfes,  both  b^  republicans  and  royalists. 
Ue  laboured  to  rebut  those  accusations,  but  they  became  nxnre 
serious  and  more  official. 

However,  it  has  been  Talleyrand's  uncommon  good  luck  always 
to  be  m  disgrace  under  a  government  on  the  brink  of  ruin;  indeed, 
it  is  reported  of  him,  that  he  said  to  Louis  XVIII.  on  his  first 
return  to  France,  ''Sir,  there  is  something  in  me  which  bodes  no 
good  to  those  goverments  that  n^lect  me."  This  at  least  may  be 
said,  that  if  he  was  guilty  of  all  attributed  to  him  at  the  period  of 


M4  TktOwefmmr. 

km  being  i>b%ed  to  withdraw  from  tbe  Ministry  toft  Pi^rdgn 
Afiairs  to  the  Directory,  be  mu^t  have  had  tixe  greatest  powor  of 
any  mto  in  the  nation. 

but  a  great  era  was(  at  hand.  Bonaparte  returns  from  Egypt, 
and  on  his  ominous  arrival  in  Paris,  slept,  &r  the  first  night, 
in  the  Rue  Chant  ereine,  but  next  morning  awoke  in  the  Rne  de  la 
Victoire.  The  name  of  the  street  had  been  changed  during  the  • 
night,  and  it  was  asserted  that  the  ex-bishop  was  not  a  stranger  to 
this  happy  substitution  of  names.  The  progress  of  Bonaparte  after 
this  to  consular  power  is  well  known,  and  although  our  hero  Tidley- 
rand  kept  much  out  of  sight  in  these  movements  *  and  rapid 
changes,  there  is  proof  that  his  master  spirit  was  seconding  power- 
ftilly,  nay,  leading  by  his  influence,  in  many  of  the  most  intricate 
and  difficult  passages  of  the  great  drama. 

Bonaparte,  all  the  world  knows,  notwithstanding  the  adjnnctiok 
of  two  provincial  colleagues,  became  at  once  the  head  of  the  state. 
Among  those  that  had  assisted  him  most  effectively  was  Talle]^- 
rand,  who  rallied  to  his  cause  the  revolutionists  of  17o9,  whilst  ms 
name  served  as  a  sort  of  passport  to  the  ancient  nobility,  who 
more  than  once,  in  passing  out  at  the  gate  of  the  imperial  jmlaee, 
were  heard  to  exckum — **  We  need  not  consider  it  derogatory  to 
tr^  in  the  footsteps  of  a  Talleyrand  de  P^rigord.'^ 

We  have  proceeded  with  the  life  of  this  singularly  talented  nan ; 
view  him  in  whatever  capacity  you  choose,  as  ftr  as  it  has  been 
taken  up  in  the  volumes  before  us.  The  remainder  of  the  worit, 
which  is  not  yet  published,  will  of  course  afibrd  abundance  of  ma- 
terials for  another  article  of  our  Journal ;  and  till  then,  we  reserve 
ourselves  as  to  the  merits  of  the  publication  as  a  literary  produc- 
tion, and  the  authenticity  (tf  its  information. 


A.AT.  IV. — The  Book  named  The  Govemomr.    By  Sir  Thomas  £s.Ton  Knt 

London :  Ridgway  and  BoliSi     18d4. 

Althoitoh  this  be  a  work  that  went  through  sevend  edittona  MoA 
after  it  was  written,  yet  it  may  be  treated  by  us  as  one  entirdly  uar, 
becaaae  not  a  reader  out  of  thousands  ever  beard  of  it.  We  take 
it  up  partly  as  a  curiosity,  to  show  how  accomplished  antkom  of 
fbimer  times  in  our  country  wrote  and  thought,  and  partly  ftir  Ae 
sake  of  the  many  sound  maxims  and  beautiful  sentimaits  tt;  COO^ 
tains,  notwitbstanding  the  qaaintnesa  of  style  in  whidi  tkey  aie 
drsBsed,  at  regards  oor  mooem  ears  and  fancies.  To  oorhbdc* 
letter  readers  the  work  will  be  acceptable,  and  for  those  that  are  Wb 
afiected,  we  shall  collect  a  few  notices  of  the  author,  funxiriied  by 
Hie  editor  in  the  prefece.  After  all  the  hopes  expressed  in  this 
preface,  however,  about  the  good  which  the  '^  Governor'*  is  tadd 
in  these  degencorated  days,  when  ^*  democratic  despotism,  tuider  tia 
sptcieiiB  mask  of  civil  and  religious  liberty/'  lhreaten£r  aiid  d^agitf 
the  land,  ao  idea  repeatedly  and  rather  ob^sively  pot  fbrttfftyHM 


jmiloDt  editor^  we  ^ptieipato  that  ita  lepute  and  uifltt^nM  wfll  be 

Ibiit  small  with  the  generality* 

The  author  of  the  *^  Governor,''  and  of  many  other  workfi^  seve* 
xal  of  them  known  to  antiquaries,  wrote  in  the  time  of  Henry  VIII. 
His  private  history,  however,  is  involved  in  much  obscurity,  though 
It  appeals  that  he  was  employed  in  several  important  embassies  by 
liis  sovereign.  His  father  was  a  judge,  and  he  himsdf  a  barrist^ 
of  successftd  practice.  He  was,  according  to  "  Biographia  Britan* 
nica,''  highly  esteemed  as  a  grammarian,  poet,  phibsopber,  physi* 
cian,  and  historian.  He  was  distinguished  for  lus  candour  and  the 
innocence  of  his  life,  which  may  be  inferred  from  his  intimacy  with 
Sir  Thomas  More.  Leland^addressed  a  oop^  ci  Latin  verses  to 
him,  and  he  was  courted  by  the  learned  men  of  his  time.  Strype^ 
in  his  **  Ecclesiastical  Memoirs,''  says,  there  was  issued,  in  the 
year/ 1585,  a  proclamation  for  calling  in  seditious  bodks;  under 
which  description  were  reckoned,  and  chieflY  intended,  such  writings 
as  favoured  the  Bishop  of  Rome.  Upon  tibls  occasion  Sir  Thomas 
Cromwell  directed  letters  to  several  persons,  ordering  them  to  send 
io  all  publications  of  the  nature  designed  to  be  condemned :  amcHdff 
others,  he  wrote  to  Sir  Thomas  Elyot,  whom,  though  an  old  friend 
pf  his  own,  he  suspected,  from  his  having  been  intimate  with  Sir 
Thomas  More,  to  be  attached  to  the  Romish  religion*  In  answer^ 
EJf  ot  declared  his  judgment  of  the  need  of  a  reformation  of  the 
clergy>  and  disclaimed  all  undue  ceinnection  with  Papists.  As  to 
aii;^  pf  the  prohibited  books  he  might  chance  to  have  by  him,  and 
whic^  were  very  few,  he  was  ready  to  deliver  them  up.  Fart  a!  tha 
language  which  he  uses,  is  as  follows :— ''  Sir,  as  you  know  I  have 
ever  been  desirous  to  read  many  books,  especially  concerning  hu- 
manity and  moral  philosophy ;  and  therefore  of  such  studies  I  hav« 
a  coA^tent  number.  But  oonceming  the  Scripture  I  have  very 
few :  fbff  in  Questionists  I  never  ddighted.  iJnsavoury  glosses 
and  comments  I  ever  abhorred.  The  boasters  and  advances  of 
pompous  authority  of  the  Bishop  of  Rome  I  never  esteemed.  But» 
afier  that,  by  a  judgment  or  estimation  of  thfln^s,  I  did  anon  smell 
out  their  corrupt  a&ction,  and  beheld  with  scornful  eyes  the  sundry 
abusions  of  their  authorities,  adorned  with  a  licentious  and  disso- 
lute form  of  hving.  Of  the  which,  as  well  in  them  as  in  the  uni* 
versal  state  of  the  clergy,  I  have  oftentimes  wished  a  necessary  re- 
formation." 
.  rThat  Sir  Thomas  EUiot  was  not  a  very  staunch  adherent  of  the 
Qbw^h  of  Rome,  is  evident  from  this,  that  King  Henry  himsdf 
iieadaiid  much  liked  the  ^^  Giovemoir;"  and  his  Majesty,  aocording 
^  Strype,  observed,  that  throughout  the  book  there  was  no  new 
term  made  by  him  of  a  Latin  or  a  French  word,  and  that  no  sen* 
teaoe  was  thereby  rendered  dark  or  hard  to  be  understood,  but  that 
he  intended  to  augment  our  English  tonffue,  whereby  men  should 
express  more  abundantly  things  conceived  in  their  breasts  (where* 
ioKe  language  was  ordained),  having  words  apt  for  the  purpose. 


t$6  Tke  €f90§r/iau9\ 

For  bis  work  called  tbe  Caatle  of  Health,  the  gaDaats  of  thai 
age'  mocked  him^  because  they  thought  it  did  not  beseem  a  knight  to 
write  upon  such  a  subject.  The  physicians  were  also  offended  that 
he  should  meddle  in  their  department,  and  particularly  that  he  should 
treat  of  medicine  in  English,  to  make  the  knowledge  thereof  com- 
mon. To  such  of  the  college  as  reflected  upon  his  skill,  he  leptre- 
sented,  that  before  he  was  twenty  years  old,  one  of  the  most  learned 
physicians  in  England  read  to  him  the  works  of  Hippdcrates, 
Galen,  &c. ;  ther^ore,  though  he  had  never  been  at  Montpelier, 
Padua,  or  Salerno,  yet  he  had  found  in  physic  s<Mnething  by  wbidi 
he  had  experienced  no  little  profit. 

The  '^  Grovemor"  was  designed  to  instruct  more  especially  great 
men,  in  good  morals,  and  to  reprove  their  vices.  It  consisted  of 
several  chapters,  where  some  sharp  and  quick  sentences  were 
found,  that  offended  many  of  the  young  men  of  fashion  at  that 
time.  They  said  it  was  no  little  presumption  in  him  to  meddle 
with  persons  of  the  nobler  ranks.  The  complaints  of  these  gen- 
tlemen, who  were  always  kicking  at  such  examples  as  did  bite  tl^m, 
our  author  compared  to  a  galled  horse,  abiding  no  jdasten.  It 
likewise  purports  to  communicate  instroetion  respecting  the  art, 
origin,  and  nature  of  civil  governments,  for  which  the  editor  thinks 
it  well  suited  at  times  like  the  present,  which  he  has  characterizeil 
as  '^  ripe  with  anarchy  and  a  seditious  spirit  of  turbulent  demo- 
cracy;" evils  particularly  frightful  in  his  eye,  as  no  doubt  they 
ought  to  be.  We  have  onl^,  before  presenting  specimens  of  the 
good  and  learned  knight's  views  again,  to  express  our  doabt  a^  to 
such  a  desired  and  desirable  result  flowing  from  the  *^  OovemcM*.^ 

The  worthy  knight,  after  dedicating  the  work  in  a  "  proheme, 
nnto  the  most  noble  and  victorious  Prince,  King  Henry  VIII.'*  pro- 
ceeds, in  the  first  chapter,  to  the  '*  signification  of  a  ^public  weal,'  and 
why  it  is  called  in  Latin  respubliea.*^  And  here,  entering  with  great 
simplicity  into  the  meaning  of  the  Latin  words,  he  will  not  allow 
that  common  weal  is  a  proper  translation,  but  that  public  weal  is 
the  idea  contained  in  them,  which  inferreth  degrees  and  ranks  of 
diffin'ent  orders.  Indeed,  Sir  Thomas,  you  were  no  radical,  we 
warrant. 

'  "  Plebs  in  English,  is  called  the  commonalty,  which  signifieth  only  the 
multitude,  wherein  be  contained  the  base  and  vulgar  inhabitants,  not  ad* 
vanced  to  any  honour  or  dignity  :  which  is  also  used  in  our  daily  eomnitml^ 
cation,  for  in  the  city  of  London  and  other  cities,  they  that  be  none  aldentten, 
or  sheriffs,  be  called  commoners.  And  in  the  country,  at  asesslooe  oraay 
other  assembly,  if  no  genteel  men  be  thereat,  the  saying  is,  that  there  wts 
none  but  the  commonalty,  which  proveth,  in  mine  opinion,  that  Plehs  in 
lAtin,  is  in  English  Commonalty,  and  Plebeii  be  commoners.  And  coa* 
seauently  there  may  appear  like  diversity  to  be  in  English,  between  «  Pub* 
lie  Weal  and  a  Common  Weal,  as  should  be  in  Latin  between  ResjmbUosy 
Res-plebia.  And  after  that  signification,  if  tiiere  should  be  a  €k)nuni^ 
Weal,  either  the  commoners  must  only  be  wealthy,  and  the  gentle.and  DO^ 
blemen  needy  and  miserable,  or  else  excluding  gentility,  all  men  imidt^e 


7^  Ginurwrnr,  U7 

of  one  degree  and  sort,  a  new  name  provided.  Forasmuch  as  Plebs  in 
Latin,  and  Commoners  in  English,  be  words  only  made  for  the  discrepance 
of  degrees,  whereof  proceed etn  order  :  which  in  things  as  well  natural  as 
as  supernatural,  bath  ever  had  such  such  pre-eminence,  that  thereby  the 
incomprehensible  majesty  of  Qod,  as  it  were  by  a  bright  beam  of  a  torch  or 
candle,  is  declilred  to  the  blind  inhabitants  of  this  world.  Moreorer,  take 
away  otder  from  all  things,  what  shoold  then  remain  ?  Gertes,  nothing 
finally,  except  some  men  would  imagine  eftooons  Chaos,  which  of  some  is 
expoonded,  a  confuse  miYture."«— pp.  2,  3.  « 

*'  Now  to  conclude  my  first  assertion  or  argument  Where  all  things 
are  comnum,  there  lacketh  order :  and  where  order  lacketh,  there  all 
things  are  odious  and  uncomely.  And  that  have  we  in  daily  experience* 
fox  &e  pans  and  pots  garnish  well  the  kitchen,  and  yet  should  they  be  to 
the  chamber  no  omameut.  Also  the  beds,  testers,  and  pillows,  beseem 
not  the  hall,  no  more  than  the  carpets  and  the  cushions  become  the  stable. 
In  like  manner  the  potter  and  the  tinker  only  perfect  in  their  crafty  shall 
little  do,  in  the  administration  of  justice.  A  ploughman  or  carter  shall 
make  but  a  feeble  answer  to  an  ambassador.  Also  a  waggoner  or  fuller, 
should  be  an  unfit  captain  of  an  army,  or  in  any  other  office  of  Governor. 
Wherefore  to  conclude,  it  is  onfy  a  Public  Weal,  where,  like  as  God,  hath 
disposed  the  said  infiiience  of  understanding,  are  also  appointed  degrees 
and  places,  according  to  the  excellence  thereof,  and  thereto  also  would  be 
aobetance  convenient,  and  necessary,  for  the  ornament  of  the  same :  whiek 
also  impresseth  a  reverence  and  due  obedience  to  the  vulgar  .people  or 
commoxialty^  and  .without  that  it  can  be  no  more  said  that  there  is  a  Pub- 
lip  Weal,  than  it  may  be  affirmed,  that  a  house  without  its  proper  and  ne- 
cessary ornaments,  is  well  and  sufficiently  furnished.*' — p.  7* 

We  must  agree  with  the  knight^  that  it  is  '^  congment,  and  ao- 
ccyrding  as  one  excelleth  another  in  understanding,  that  the  estate 
of  his  person  be  advanoed  in  degree  or  place ;"  but  still  there  is  a 
great  leaning  in  him  to  them  who  possessed  the  optimorum  potentia, 
in  preference  to  those  who  had  only  popularis  potenlia.  And  ia 
this  partiality  the  editor  heartily  joins^  no  doubt.  A  head^  or  sove- 
reign governor,  however,  is  required,  saith  the  sapient  Sir  Thomas, 
for  every  Public  Weal,  for  if  sujHreme  power  be  confided  to  a  few 
(optimorum)  of  the  best  men,  virtue  is  not  so  constant  amongst 
such  a  number,  ''but  that  some  being  once  in  authority,  will  be  in- 
censed with  glory,  some  with  ambition,  others  with  covetousness, 
desire  of  treasure  or  professions,  whereby  they  fidl  into  contention 
finallv,  when  any  atchieveth  the  superiority:  the  whole  government 
is  reduced  into  a  few  in  number,  who  fearing  the  multitude,  their 
mntabihty  to  the  intent  to  keep  them  in  dread  to  rebel,  ruleth  bv 
terror  una  cruelty,  thinking  thereby  to  keep  themselves  in  fiurety. 
And  of  the  Commons  he  goes  on  to  declare^  '^  if  they  feel  some 
severity,  they  do  humbly  serve  and  obey,  yet  where  embracing  a 
licence,  they  refuse  to  be  bridled,  do  fling  and  plunge ;  and,  if  mey. 
oaoe  Arpw  down  their  Governor,  they  order  every  thing  without 
justice,  only  with  vengeance  and  cruelty,  and  cannot  by  any  wisdon^ 
be  pacified  and  brought  again  into  order.  Wherefore,  undoubtedly, 
the  oest  and  the  most  sure  government,  is  by  one  king  or  prince,  who 


Bd6  The  Chverwur, 


ndeth  onljr  fer  the  weal  of  hia  people.*'  We  must  confiess^  that  fq^ 
the  time  m  which  he  wrote^  our  author  is  no  despicahle  hand  at 
political  economicks. 

But  under  one  capital  governor  ^'  who  cannot  have  knowledge  of 
all  things  done  in  the  recdm,  it  is  expedient  that  there  b^  sundrjr 
mean  authorities,  whom  he  calleth  magistrates,  ficooi  the  I^itin 
word  magistratus,  lacking  any  other  more  oonv^eat  term  i&  the 
English.  The  great  body  of  the  vohime  is  therefore  devoted  to  tfae 
consideration  of  what  is  the  best  form  of  educating  or  bringing  up 
such  noble  children  from  their  nativity,  as  that  tibey  may  be  iomid 
worthy  and  able  to  be  such  sub-governors.  '^Now  aU  ye  that  desire 
to  have  your  children  to  be  governors,  if  ye  instruct  them  in  eadt 
form  as  in  this  book  is  declared,  they  shall  there  seem  to  all  men 
worthy  to  be  in  authority,  honour,  and  nobleness.  And  all  that  ia 
under  their  governance  shall  prosper  and  come  to  perfection,  andaa 
a  precious  stone  in  a  rich  ouche,  they  shall  be  behcdden  and  won- 
dered at,  and  after  the  death  of  their  body,  their  souls,  Ibr  their 
^endeavour  shall  be  incomparably  rewarded  of  the  Givw  of  wiadoai, 
to  whom  only  be  given  eternal  ^ory.    Amen." 

Now  for  some  of  these  particular  lessons,  that  are  to  result  ia 
this  beatific  manner.  He  begins  with  an  early  age,  and  thus  rega** 
lateth  the  nobleman's  nursery. 

"  First  they,  unto  whom  the  bringing  up  of  such  children  appertainetfi, 
ought  against  the  time  of  their  mother  shall  be  of  them  delivered  to  be  sur^ 
of  a  nurse,  which  should  be  of  no  servile  condition,  or  vice  notable.  Por 
%8  some  ancient  writers  do  suppose,  oftentimes  the  child  sueketh  the  vice 
of  hid  nurse,  with  the  milk  of  her  pap.  And  also  observe,  that  she  be  df 
mature  or  ripe  age,  not  under  twenty  years  or  above  thirty  years ;  her  body 
also  bemg  clean  from  all  sickness  or  deformity,  and  having  her  complexion 
aioit  of  the  right  and  pure  sanguine  forasmuch  as  the  milk  theiiDof  comiii^ 
excelleth  all  other  both  in  sweetness  and  substance.  Moveover,  to  tbe 
nurse  should  be  appointed  another  woman,  of  approved  virtue,  discretiei]^ 
and  gravity,  who  shall  not  suffer  in  the  child's  presence  to  be  showe4  any 
act  or  dislionest  stain,  or  any  wanton  or  unclean  word  to  be  spoken*  AJu^ 
for  that  cause  all  men,  except  physicians  only,  should  be  excluded  and  kqft 
out  of  the  nursery."— vol.  i.  p.  21. 

Of  accomplishments,  music  comes  early  in  Sir  Thomas'9  ]ist^ 
))ut  the  young  nobk  man  is  not  to  study  it  farther  than  that  it  jpfff 
be  a  solace  to  himself  in  private,  or  **  when  hearing  the  conteoiion 
of  noble  musicians,  that  he  may  be  able  to  give  jud^ent  ix^  Hm^ 
excellency  of  their  cunnings."  For  in  this  commendation: — 

"  I  would  not  be  thought  to  allure  noblemen,  to  banre  much  ddUiglit 
ihereiB,  that  in  {laying  and  singing  only,  they  should  pot  thdr 
.•tudy  and  felicity  :  As  died  the  Emperor  Nero,  who  all  a  Umg 
4ay  would  sit  in  the  theatre  (an  open  place  where  all  the  peopla  of 
beheld  solemn  acts  and  plays)  and  in  tifie  presence  of  all  the  noUeoien  -as^ 
senators,  would  play  on  his  harp*  and  sing  without  ceasing.  And  H  m9§ 
man  happened  by  lopg  sitting  to  sleep,  or  by  any  other  couQtcsm^o^  Jt 
show  himaetf  to  be  weary,  he  was  suddenly  bobbed  on  the  £ftoe  hy  tte 


The  Govemour.  339 

%ftnt'8  of  Nero,  tbx  that  purpose  attending.  Or  if  any  person  was  perceived 
tb  be  absent,  or  were  seen  to  laugh  at  the  foUy  of  the  Emperor,  he  was 
„ forthwith  accused,  as  it  were  of  misprision,  whereby  the  Emperor  found 
ocdisibn  to  commit  him  to  prison,  or  to  put  him  to  tortures.  O  what 
teilMry  was  it,  to  be  subject  to  saCh  a  minstrel,  in  whose  music  was  no  me- 
lody but  anguish  and  dolour. 

**  It  wete  therefore  b^tei*  that  no  music  were  taught  to  a  nobleman, 
tlian  by  die  exact  knowledge  thereof,  he  should  have  therein  inordinate 
del%ht ;  and  by  that  be  allured  to  wantonness,  abandoning  gravity  and 
tiie necessary  cure  and  office  in  the  Public  Weal  to  him  committed." — p.  23. 

:  A  nobleman  may,  in  certain  instances^  employ  his  leisure  hours 
in  others  of  the  fine  arts^  such  as  architecture  and  sculpture.  Ncur 
is  he  to  heed  the  scorn  of  those  who  may  thence  call  him  a  mason 
€Bt  planter ;  for  greater  than  any  of  our  peerage  have  turned  such 
pursuits  to  good  account. 

^Mf  the  child  be  of  nature  inclined  (as  many  have  been)  to  paint  with  a 
pen,  or  to  form  images  in  stone  or  tree,  he  should  not  be  therefrom  with- 
drawn, or  nature  be  rebuked,  which  is  to  him  benevolent ;  but  putting 
one  to  him,  which  is  in  that  craft,  wherein  he  delighteth»  most  excellent,  in 
vacant  times  from  other  more  serious  learning,  he  shoold  be  in  the  most 
purewiae  instructed  in  painting  or  carving.  And  now,  perchance,  some 
envious  reader  will  hereof  take  occasion  to  scorn  me,  saying  that  I  had 
well  hied  me,  to  make  of  a  nobleman  a  maison  or  painter.  And  yet  if 
either  ambition  or  voluptuous  idleness  would  have  suffered  that  reader  to 
|iave  seen  histories,  he  should  have  found  excellent  princes,  as  well  in 
painting  as  in  carving,  equal  to  noble  artificers.  Such  were  Cladius 
Titus  the  son  of  Vespasian,  Adrian,  both  Antonines,  and  divers  other  em- 
pimurs  and  noble  princes,  whose  works  of  long  time  remained  in  Rome 
^nd  other  cities,  in  such  places  where  all  men  might  behold  them,  as 
Dionuments  of  their  excellent  wits  and  virtuous  occupation  in  eschewing 
of  idleness.  And  not  without  a  necessary  cause  princes  were  in  their 
childhood  so  instructed;  for  it  served  them  afterward  for  devising  of  en- 
gines for  the  war,  or  for  the  making  them  .better,  that  be  all  ready  de- 
vised. For  as  Vitruvius  (which  writeth  of  building  to  the  Emperor  Au- 
gustus) saith,  all  torments  of  war,  which  we  call  engines,  were  first  in- 
vented by  kings  or  governors  of  hosts,  or  if  they  were  devised  by  other, 
tfaey  were  by  diem  made  much  better.'* — ^p.  25. 

'^  Otir  dandy  briefless  barristers  will  appreciate  the  following 
frtiths: — 

^  . "  It  may  not  be  denied  but  that  all  laws  be  founded  on  the  deepest  part 
of  reason,  and  as  I  suppose,  no  one  law  so  much  as  our  own ;  and  the 
deeper  men  do  investigate  reason,  the  more  diflScult  or  hard  must  needs  be 
Hie  siitdy.  Also  that  reverend  study  is  involved  in  so  barbarous  a  lan- 
guage, tiiat  it  is  not  onlv  void  of  all  eloquence,  but  also  being  separate 
frBBBTIhe  exerciBe  of  our  law  only,  it  serveth  to  no  commodity  or  necessary 
MTpoae,  no  man  understanding  it,  but  they  who  have  studied  the  laws. 
Tbeu'^liildveii  at  fourteen  or  fifteen  years  old,  in  which  time  springeth 
WMtrflge  set  all  in  pleasure,  and  pleasure  is  in  nothing  that  is  not  easy  or 
eiegMitf' being  brought  to  the  most  difficult  and  grave  learning,  which  hath 
tfoAiag  alluriag  or  delicate  to  tidde  their  tender  wits,  and  allure  them  to 

▼OL.UI.   (1834.)  NO.IU.  BB 


340  The  Governor. 

study,  unless  it  be  lucre,  (which  a  gentle  wit  little  esteemeth)  the  more 
part  vanquished  with  tediousness,  either  do  abandon  the  laws,  and  %a^ 
awares  to  their  friends  do  give  themselves  up  to  gaming,  and  other  (aa  I 
might  say)  idle  business,  naw  called  pastimes,  or  else  if  they  be  in  any** 
wise  thereto  constrained,  they  iqpprehending  a  piece  thereof,  as  if  they  be** 
ing  long  in  a  dark  dungeon,  only  did  see  by  the  light  of  a  candle*  Them 
if  after  twenty  or  thirty  years'  study,  they  happen  to  come  among  wise 
men,  hearing  matters  oommented  of  concerning  a  Public  WeaU  or  ont* 
ward  affairs  between  princes,  they  no  less  be  astonished  thaa  if  ihej 
coming  out  of  a  dark  house  at  noon-days,  were  suddenly  stricken  in  the 
eyes  with  &  bright  sun-beam.'* — ^pp.  33,  34. 

He  i9  very  severe  in  his  chapter  on  schoolmasters ;  but  though 
the  whole  is  surpassingly  quaint  and  instructive^  yet,  since  we  nnust 
not  continue  to  extract  at  the  rate  we  have  been  doing,  let  the  fol- 
lowing  sentences  suffice : — "  Good  Lord,  how  many  good  and  clean 
wits  of  children  be  now  a  days  perished  by  ignorant  schoolmasters !  ** 
This  bold  exclamation  opens  the  chapter.  Farther  on  he  declares — 
**  But  if  to  be  a  bachelor  or  master  of  arts,  study  of  phUosophj 
waxeth  tedious,  if  he  have  a  spoonful  of  Latin^  he  will  shew  forth  a 
hog's-head  without  any  learning,  and  offer  to  teach  grammar  and 
expound  noble  writers.  How  wroth  he  is  at  such  presumption! 
that  these  hog-headed  Dominie  Sampsons  should  dare  to  expound 
noble  authors,  is  monstrous. 

Of  the  exercises  ^'  apt  and  necessary  to  the  furniture  of  a  gen- 
tleman's personage,"  wrestling  is,  in  the  beginning  of  youth,  good, 
<^  so  that  it  be  with  on^  that  is  equal  in  strength,  or  somewhat 
under  (the  weaker,  we  presume^  must  be  only  half  a  gentleman, 
and  unworthy  of  our  author's  care),  and  that  the  place  be  aoft, 
that  in  falling  their  bodies  be  not  bruised."  Amongst  a  grdat 
variety  of  manly  exercises,  in  which,  indeed,  he  uniformly  incal* 
cates  moderation,  we  have  by  far  the  most  said  on  the  subject  of 
dancing,  and  in  such  a  tone,  that  we  suspect  the  knight  to  have 
been  a  proficient  on  the  light  fantastic  toe,  although  he  declares 
"  shooting  in  a  long  bow"  to  be  the  principal  of  all  exercises. 

We  wish  that  our  limits  permitted  us  to  present  as  much  of  the 
graver  lessons  of  this  volume  as  we  have  given  of  those  on  aooom^ 
plishments  and  exercises.  He,  however,  who  can  make  so.  mudi 
of  what  is  comparatively  trifling,  rises  as  his  subject  demands,  m 
that  every  chapter  seems  to  be  an  improvement  on  the  fbr^ioing. 
Without  searching  for  examples,  we  quote  from  what  he  says  «f 
friendship  and  of  detraction : — 

*' Between  all  men  that  be  good  cannot  alway  be  amity,  but  it 
quireth  that  they  be  of  similar  or  much  like  manners «»  study,  and 
dally  of  manners.  For  Ghravity  and  A&bility  be  every  of  tibam 
qualities.  So  be  Severity  and  Plaealnlity.  Also  Magnifioaioa  aadi  likat 
rality  be  noble  virtues :  And  yet  Frugality,  which  ia  a  sobiNraeta  o«  mpdM 
ration  in  living,  \a,  and  that  for  good  cause  of  all  wise  men  extaUe4»  yi^ 
where  these  virtues  and  qualities  be  separately  in  sundry  peraooa  as* 
iiembled,  may  well  be  perfect  concord,  but  frienidship  is  tiim  aeUom  or 


The  Owemour,  341 

nerer.  For  that,  which  one  for  a  virtue  embraceth,  the  other  contemneth, 
or  at  the  least  neglecteth.  Wherefore  it  seemeth,  that  it,  wherein  the 
one  delightetfa,  is  repugnant  to  the  other's  nature  :  And  where  is  any  re- 
pugnance, may  be  none  amity,  since  friendship  is  an  Entire  consent  of 
wills  and  desires.  Therefore  it  is  seldom  seen  that  friendship  is  be- 
tween these  persons.  A  man  sturdy,  of  opinion  inflexible,.,  and  of  sour 
coontCBance  and  ^)eech,  widi  him  that  is  tractable,  and  with  reason 
peisuoded,  and  of  sweet  countenance  and  entertainment.  Also  between 
him  who  is  elevated  in  authority  aiid  another  of  a  very  base  estate  or 
degree :  yea,  and  if  they  be  both  in  an  equal  dignity,  if  they  be  desirous 
to  climb,  as  they  do  ascend,  so  friendship  for  the  more  part  decayeth. 
Now  let  us  try  out  what  is  that  friendship  that  we  suppose  to  be  In  good 
men.  Veiily  it  is  a  blessed  and  stable  connexion  of  sundry  wills,  making 
of  two  persons  one,  in  having  and  suffering.  And  therefore  a  friend  is 
properly  named  of  philosophers,  the  other  I.  For  that  in  them  is  but  one 
mind  and  one  possession :  and  that  which  more  is,  a  man  more  rejoiceth 
at  hia  friend's  good  fortune,  than  at  his  own." — ^pp.  149 — 151. 

The  nobility  of  friendfihip  is  equalled  by  the  baaenesa  of  detrac- 
tion:— 

**  There  is  much  conversant  among  men  in  authority  a  vice  very  ugly 
and  monstrous,  which  under  the  pleasant  habit  of  friendship  and  good 
counsel,  with  a  breath  pestilential,  infecteth  the  wits  of  them  that  nothing 
Hiistrusteth.  This  monster  is  called  in  English,  Detraction,  in  Latin, 
Calumnia,  whose  property  I  will  now  declare.  If  a  man  be  determined 
to  equity,  having  the  eyes  and  the  ears  of  his  mind  set  only  on  the  truth, 
and  the  Public  Weal  of  his  country,  will  have  no  regard  to  any  request 
or  desire,  but  proceedeth  directly  to  the  administration  of  justice,  either 
he  who  by  justice  is  offended,  or  some  his  favourers,  abetters  or  adhe- 
rents, if  he  himself,  or  any  of  them  be  in  service  or  familiarity  with  him 
that  is  in  authority,  as  soon  as  by  any  occasion  mention  happeneth  to  bd 
made  of  him,  who  hath  executed  justice  exactly,  forthwith  they  imagine 
some  vice  or  default,  be  it  never  so  little,  whereby  they  may  minish  his 
credence,  and  craftily  omitting  to  speak  any  thing  of  his  rigour  in  justice, 
will  note  and  touch  something  of  his  manners,  wherein  shall  either  seem 
to  he  lightness,  or  lack  of  gravity,  or  too  much  sourness,  or  lack  of  civi- 
lity :  or  that  he  is  not  sufficient  to  receive  any  dignity,  or  to  despatch 
mattem  of  weighty  importance,  or  that  he  is  superfluous  in  words  or  else 
too  scarce.  And  if  he  live  temperately,  and  delighteth  much  in  study, 
tiiey  embraced  him  with  niggardship,  or  in  derision,  call  him  a  clerk  or  a 
poet,  unmeet  for  anv  other  purpose.  And  this  they  do  covertly  and 
with  a  greater  gravity  than  any  other  thing  that  they  enterprise."— « 
lip.  271,272. 

He  has  an  entire  chapter  on  nobility,  which  concludes  with  these 
words: — *^  It  is  not  after  the  vulgar  opinion  of  men,  but  is  only  the 
pnttse  and  mmanie  of  virtue.*'  This  is  noble  in  the  knight,  and 
aervaato  balance,  what  could  not  be  expected  of  his  era,  an  inordi* 
Date  iespect  for  the  order  he  labours  to  instruct.  We  have  only 
•0  ftorlher  say,  that  every  part  of  the  "  Governor"  is  illustratea, 
^nfoireed^  and  enriched  with  extensive  knowledge  and  great 
]«ftrtiittg: 

bb2 


^*  '      ^  342 

Art.  V. —  Third  and  Fourth  Meetings  of  the  British  Associaticn  for  thi 

Adv€tnc€ment  of  Science, 

This  Association  is  progressing  with  wonderfiil  celerity  touneum- 
^led  eminence.  If  we  merely  take  the  increase  in  the  number  rf 
members,  since  the  first  meeting  of  the  Society,  we  must  be  convinced 
of  the  rapid  growth  of  its  power  and  influence.  At  York  350  met; 
700  at  Oxford;  1,400  at  Cambridge ;  and  2200  at  Edinburgh  this 
year.  But  numerical  increase,  and  relative  magnitude,  are  not  the 
only  tests  to  go  by,  in  judging  of  the  gradually  enlarging  worth  and 
importance  of  the  British  Association.  Let  us  for  a  moment  refi^r 
to  the  additional  names  that  swell  the  lists  of  the  latest  meeting; 
and  there  we  find  not  merely  the  most  celebrated  scientific  meqi  in 
England,  Ireland,  and  Scotland,  but  many  from  fo|-eign  ptirts,  who 
it  is  believed  never. before  set  foot  upon  British  ground.  A  better  eii- 
dence  still  is  to  be  found  in  the  materials  which  the  assbciation  has 
already  actually  contributed  to  science  in  a  great  variety  of  depart- 
ments. But  before  directing  the  attention  of  our  readers  to  what  has 
been  done  in  the  course  of  the  two  last  meetings,  we  have  the  highest 
satisfaction  in  referring  to  some  of  the  indirect  bearings  of  this 
great  and  now  established  union. 

We  hail  the  British  Association,  not  merely  as  an  exceUent  in- 
strument for  promoting  the  advancement  of  science.    This  is,  to  be 
-sure,  one  great  advantage,  and  that  which  is  immediately  contem- 
plated  by  such  a  philosophic  union.     For  in  that  field,  when  alone, 
man  is  comparatively  nerveless,  whilst  the  power  derived  from  am- 
centration  is  immense  ;  and  though  vast  atchievements  have  been 
accomplished  in  private,  yet  the   sparks  that  touched  the  genius 
and  kindled  the  light  by  which  they  were  first  attempted  and  car- 
ried through,  originated  firom  mingling  with  the  world,  and  having 
intercourse  with  men  of  kindred  spirits.     But  besides,  tliis  socie^ 
has  become,  and  doubtless  will  continue  to  be,  the  occasion  of  bring- 
ing together  the  most  influential  men  from  all  parts  of  the  world. 
There  were  in  Edinburgh,  at  the  fourth  meeting,  philosophers  ct 
the  very  highest  rank,    from  France,   Utrecht,  Baden,  Berlin, 
Weimar,  Rome,  Geneva,  the  Island  of  Chios,  America,  &c.,  &c 
The  great  barrier  which  for  long  had  severed  man  from  man,  and 
prevented  them  even  from  understanding  one  another's  language 
has  been  broken  down,  and  we  believe  for  ever  in  the  civilized  world. 
The  strife  now  is  for  knowledge.     A  distinct  matter  from  any  of 
these^  which  in  the  nature  of  things  must  result  from  this  ana  all 
such  wise  institutions,  is  the  services  which  they  confer  upon  the 
piost  important  truths  connected  with  the  destinies  of  man.    For 
it  is  nothing  less  than  a  libel  on  the  Creator  and  Ruler  of  all  things, 
to  say  that  the  investigation  of  truth  can  lead  to  error  and  eviL. 
Infidelity  and  irreligion  are  the  result  of  ignorance,  as  much  as  (if 
prejudice  or  presumption.      The  boldest  researches  in  physical 
adenoe,  for  example,  are  calculated  the  most  to  display  the  pow(^i 


BrUi^k  AMeodalionfor  tkc  Advancement  of  Science.  S49 

the  visdoniy  the  harmony,  and  the  beauty  of  Him  who  guides  the 
{Janets  in  their  course,  who  rules  a  thousand  suns  and  their  systems, 
and  whose  name  is  The  Eternal. 

Of  the  contents  of  the  volume,  embracing  a  report  of  what  was 
'done  at  the  third  meeting,  held  at  Cambridge  last  summer^  we  must 
chiefly  refer  our  readers  to  a  luminous  outline  afforded  by  Professor 
Forbes  this  year  at  Edinburgh,  in  his  programme  of  the  subjects  to 
which  the  attention  of  the  Association  was  about  to  be  directed.  But 
before  quoting  part  of  the  able  summary,  we  cannot  but  gratify 
every  thinking  person  by  a  few  of  the  Rev.  W.  Whe well's  views, 
in  his  exposition  of  the  preceding  transactions  of  the  society  to 
those  entered  upon  at  Cambridge.  Let  none,  said  he,  suppose 
that  they  ascribed  to  assembled  numbers  and  conjoined  labours  ex- 
travagant powers  and  privileges  in  the  promotion  of  science,  or  that 
they  beheved  in  the  omnipotence  of  a  parliament  of  the  scientific 
world.  There  was  no  royal  road  to  knowledge ;  neither  was  there 
any  way  of  making  it  shorter,  because  those  that  press  forward  were 
many.  All  must  start  from  their  actual  position,  and  the  advance 
cannot  be  accelerated  by  any  method  of  giving  each  man  his  mile 
of  the  march.  Yet,  care  may  be  taken  that  those  who  come  ready 
to  start  from  the  proper  point,  and  in  the  proper  direction,  shcJl  not 
scramble  over  broken  ground,  when  there  is  a  causeway  parrallel  to 
their  path.  A  man  cannot  create,  not  even  direct  the  powers  oi  dis- 
covery, bat  he  may  aid  them  to  <hrect  themselves.  Of  the  connexion 
between  art  and  science,  he  said  that  practice  had  always  been  the 
origin  and  stimulus  of  theory;  that  art  had  been  the  mother  of  science; 
the  comely  and  busy  mother  of  a  daughter  of  a  far  loftier  and 
ser^ner  beauty.  But  that  when  we  considered  how  small  an  advance 
of  speculative  science  was  implied  in  each  successful  step  of  art,  we 
l^hall  be  in  no  danger  of  forming  any  extravagant  estimate  of  what 
man  has  done  or  can  do. 

Professor  Forbes  this  year  in  his  programme  said,  that  the  Asso- 
ciation was  not  to  be  confounded  with  those  numerous  institutions 
which  exist  simply  for  the  diffusion  of  knowledge];  extension^  or 
accumulation  is  its  object ;  so  that  when  to  the  eye  of  the  world  the 
members  are  apparently  torpid  during  the  intervals  of  their  annual 
Bieetings,  they  are  labouring  to  give  an  impulse  to  every  part  of 
the  iscientific  system,  maturing  scientific  enterprise,  and  directing 
the  labours  requisite  for  discovery  : — 

-  "If  we  now  turn  from  the  professions  to  the  acts  of  the  Association,  we 
shall  find  gratifying  proof  that  these  sanguine  anticipations  were  not  chi- 
merical ;  and  that  this  primary  machinery,  not  destined  itself  to  do  the 
troik  desired,  hut  to  construct  the  took  requisite  for  its  performance,  was 
wanting  neither  in  efficiency  nor  in  permanence.  The  first  and  most  signal 
proof  which  we  can  cite,  is  the  productiou  of  those  reports  on  the  progress 
of  science,  which  appeared  to  the  founder  of  the  Association  one  of  the 
luost  important  objects  of  such  an  institution,  and  one  which,  beyond  all 
disputi;,  no  existing  society  could  have  attempted.  -  The  secoud  volume  of 


d44  British  Awtocicrtianfar  thi  Advancement  of  Science, 

reports  has  amply  justified  the  expectations  with  which  it  was  hailed ;  «ad 
whilst  the  first  was  chiefly  occupied  with  reports  upon  great  and  leading 
divisions  of  science,  we  have  here  several  happy  specimens  of  a  still  greater 
division  of  labour,  by  the  discussion  within  moderate  limits  of  some  par* 
ticular  provinces.  Thus  Mr.  Taylor  has  treated  of  one  particular  ead  most 
interesting  question  in  geology — ^the  formation  of  mineral  veins— one  of 
the  most  important,  in  a  theoretical  point  of  view,  which  coidd  have  been 
stated,  and  which,  from  its  intimate  connexion  with  commercial  specu- 
lation, might  have  been  expected  in  a  country  like  ours  to  have  been  more 
specifically  treated  of  than  it  has  been.  It  strictly  belongs  to  the  dynamics 
of  the  science,  to  which,  since  the  time  of  Hutton»  but  Uttle  attention  ha^ 
been  paid  until  very  recently.  By  the  exertions,  however,  of  Mr.  Garnet, 
of  Dr.  Boase,  and  Mr.  Henwood  of  Com  wall,  whose  researches  are  to  fbm 
one  point  of  discussion  in  the  Geological  section  at  the  present  me^ia^p 
that  electric  agency  was  concerned  in  the  disposition  of  metattifeioiisireiBa 
can  scarcely  be  doubted,  and  the  connection  between  electricity  and  tomg" 
setism,  now  so  fully  established — the  connection  between  metaU^imiA 
veins  and  lines  of  elevation,  and  between  the  latter  and  the  isodynamicai 
lines  of  terrestrial  magnetic  intensity^  as  suggested  by  Professor  Necker  of 
Geneva — ^point  out  a  bond  of  union  between  this  subject  and  tlis^  of  ter- 
restrial magnetism,  on  which  we  have  a  report  by  Mr.  Christie,  where  the 
very  interesting  direct  observations  of  Mr.  Fox  of  Falmouth,  on  the  electro- 
magnetic action  of  mineral  veins,  are  particularly  noticed.  Mr.  Christie's 
theory  of  the  diurnal  variation  of  the  needle,  wbich  he  is  desirous  sbould 
be  submitted  to  the  test  of  a  laboratory  experiment,  is  likewise  intimafdy 
connected  with  the  actual  constitution  of  our  globe.  The  whole  sobjeet 
of  Terrestrial  Magnetism  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  and  progressiTe  of 
the  experimental  sciences.  The  determination  of  the  direetion  of  die  taag- 
netic  energy  by  means  of  two  spherical  co-ordinates,  termed  the  variatioa 
and  the  dip,  and  the  measure  of  the  intensity  of  that  force,  are  the  great 
objects  of  immediate  research,  as  forming  a  basis  of  theory.  Hie  existoioe 
of  four  points  on  the  earth's  surface,  to  which  the  needle  tends,  has  long 
been  known ;  and  the  position  of  two  of  these  (in  Northern  Asia  and 
America),  has  recently  been  elucidated  by  the  persevering  eflbrts  of  Pro- 
fessor Hanstein  and  Commander  Koss.  The  precise  numerical  deter- 
mination of  the  elements  just  alluded  to,  acquires  a  deep  and  peculiar  In- 
terest from  the  multiplied  variations  which  they  undergo.  Not  only  are 
these  elements  subject  to  abrupt  and  capricious  changes,  which  Baron 
Humboldt  has  termed  magnetic  storms,  but  gradual  and  progressive  vafitt^ 
tions  are  undergone  at  different  hours  of  the  day,  at  different  seasons  of 
the  year,  and  throughout  longer  periods,  which  may  even  perhaps  bear  « 
comparison  with  the  sublime  cycles  of  Astronomy.  Natural  History  kamn 
a  more  prominent  subject  in  this  volume  than  in  the  last,  thom^  the 
reports  of  Professor  Lindley  '*  on  the  principal  questions  at  present  debated 
in  the  Philosophy  of  Botany,"  and  of  Dr.  Charles  Henry,  "  on  the  Phi- 
losophy of  the  Nervous  System,''  refer  only  to  particular  departments  of 
widely  extended  subjects,  which  are  again  to  be  resumed  in  more  general 
reports,  undertaken  for  the  present  meeting— that  by  Mr.  Bentham,  on 
Systematic  Botany,  and  by  Dr.  Clarke,  of  Cambridge,  on  Physiology  in 
general. 

"  We  cannot  but  remark  with  pleasure,  that  one  of  the  points  for  inqniry, 
particoUrly  insisted  on  by  Professor  Lindley,  that  of  the  induence  or  the 


Brtii$h  ji$9^ekahm/&r  th9  Aimmeement  of  8eieiie&.  946 

ebetakf^  sMitfe  of  ioik,  and  of  the  exeretSons  of  plants,  iras  taken  up  at 
•n  emiy  period  of  the  existence  of  the  Association,  by  one  of  its  most 
aaaloufl  supporters,  Dr.  Danbeny ;  and  that,  in  reference  to  tbe  review  by 
Dr.  Henry,  at  the  labours  of  European  physiologists,  we  may  quote,  as  a 
national  honour,  the  discoyeries  of  our  distinguished  associate.  Sir  Charles 
BeU. 

"  On  the  general  connection  and  occasional  apparent  opposition  of  Theory 
and  PfMctiee,  I  would  refer  to  some  very  pertinent  remarks  in  the  address 
of  Mr.  Wbewell,  at  the  last  meeting.  The  importance  of  carrying  on  both 
riaialtaneonsly  and  independently,  and  of  looking  to  our  increased  know- 
ledge of  both  as  the  only  anre  means  of  ultimately  reconciling  discrepancies^ 
haa  been  manifested  by  the  desire  of  the  council  of  the  Association  to  pro- 
•sra  two  distiact  reports  on  the  Theory  and  Practice  of  Hydraulics,  which 
ka^  been  drawn  up  with  remarkable  perspicuity,  and  within  a  small  com- 
fMUa,  by  Mr.  ChalliB  and  Mr.  Rennie ;  both  these  gentlemen  have  shown 
their  seal  in  the  objects  of  the  Association,  by  promising  to  continue  theiif 
▼aloable  labours.  Mr.  Rennie,  on  that  part  of  his  sul^ect  which  relates 
to  the  motion  of  fluids  in  open  channels,  and  Mr.  Challis,  on  some  of  those 
exceedingly  interesting  branches  of  theory  altogether  modern,  which  phy- 
Mcally,  as  well  as  in  their  mathematical  methods,  have  the  closest  analogy 
to  tiiat  case  of  the  motion  of  the  fluids  treated  of  in  the  present  volume, 
namely,  the  Theory  of  Bound,  and  the  intimate  constitution  of  liquids. 
Wheu^  in  addition  to  these  reports,  we  shall  have  received  that  undertaken 
by  Mr.  Whewell  upon^e  mathematical  theory  of  Magnetism,  Electricity, 
and  Heat,  we  shall  undoubtedly  possess  the  most  complete  outline  extant, 
ef  a  department  of  knowledge  entirely  of  recent  date.  In  the  science  of 
Hydraalics,  indeed,  some  progress  in  theory  has  accompanied  the  increase 
^  practical  information,  at  least  since  the  time  of  Newton,  but  in  the  other 
atnetly  practical  r^K>rt  of  the  present  volume,  that  of  Mr.  Barlow,  on  the 
very  interesting  subject  of  the  strength  of  materials,  little  or  nothing  has 
been  done  of  much  theoretical  importance  since  the  days  of  Galileo.  Cir- 
eumstances,  which  it  would  be  easy  to  point  out,  prevent  our  setting  out, 
except  in  rare  eases,  from  unimpeachable  data;  but  several  very  inte- 
resting conclusions  of  genieral  application  are  derivable  from  well -con- 
ducted experiments,  and  tbe  Association  may  claim  some  credit  for  having 
brought  into  general  notice  the  ingenious  investigations  of  Mr.  Hodgkinson 
of  Manchester.  One  report,  and  that  the  longest  which  has  ever  been 
pmted  by  the  Association,  remaiti^  to  be  mentioned ; — it  is  by  Mr.  Pea- 
cock, on  the  present  state  of  Mathematics.  When  we  consider  tbe  vast 
€Xtent  of  the  subject,  and  the  extremely  limited  number  of  persons,  even 
in  the  whole  of  Earope,  capable  of  undertaking  it,  we  must  consider  the 
pvoduction  of  a  work  of  so  much  labour  as  the  present,  which,  as  yet,  is 
inccmipldte,  but  which  the  author  has  promised  to  resume,  as  the  best  tro- 
phy to  which  we  can  refer  in  proof  of  the  entire  efliciency  of  the  Asso- 
-ciotion.  Were  these  annual  reports  the  only  fruits  of  the  labours  of  this 
Society,  there  would  be  no  reason  to  complain.  But  yet  more  specific  re- 
salts  of  its  impulsive  actioU  on  science  may  be  quoted. 

•'The  questions  suggested  by  the  reporters  and  others,  recommended  for 
Invefltigatioil,  have  met  with  ready  attention  from  several  individuals  ca- 
paUe  of  satisfiuitorHy  treating  them.  Professor  Airy  has  himself  investi-^ 
gatadj  from  direct  observation,  the  mass  of  Jupiter,  suggested  as  a  desi- 
deratum in  his  report  on  Astronomy ;  and,  since  the  last  meeting  of  tJkt 


346  BrkUh  Asiociaiian  f4fr  the  AAfomeement  of  ,Scie§tee. 

Association,  has-  confirmed  his  first  revolts  by  new  obserrafcioBs,  which  giv*. 
almost  the  same  mass  by  the  observed  elongations  of  the  satellites,  as  had 
been  deduced  from  the  perturbations  of  the  small  planets  by  Jupiter* 
Hourly  observations  of  the  thermometer  in  the  south  of  England  have^ia 
two  instances,  been  commenced ;  and  we  are  assured  that  the  same  de- 
sirable object  is  about  to  be  attained  by  the  zeal  of  the  committee  in  Indifty 
where  the  Association  has  established  a  flourishing  colony.  A  seiies  of  the 
best  observations,  conducted  fur  ascertaining  the  law  which  regulates  the 
fall  of  rain  at  different  heights,  has  been  undertaken  at  the  suggestioai  of 
the  Physical  section,  by  Messrs.  Philip,  and  Gray,  of  York,  which  hava 
been  ably  discussed  by  the  former  gentleman,  in  last  year's  Report,  mod 
have  since  been  continued. 

"A  regular  system  of  auroral  observation,  extending  from  the  Shetland 
Isles  to  the  Land's -end,  has  been  established  under  the  superintendence  of 
a  special  committee,  and  specimens  of  the  results  have  been  published. 
Observ'ations  on  the  supposed  influence  of  the  aurora  on  .the  magnetic 
needle,  h&ve  likewise  been  pursued  in  consequence  of  this  proceeding. 
The  conditions  of  terrestrial  magnetism  in  Ireland  have  been  experimentally 
investigated  by  Professor  Lloyd.  An  important  inquiry  into  the  law  oi 
Isomorphism  has  been  undertaken  by  a  special  committee,  which  baa 
likewise  reported  progress ;  and  an  elaborate  synopsis  of  the  whole  Fossil 
Organic  Remains  fonnd  in  Britain  is  in  progress,  under  the  hands  of  Fro* 
fessor  Phillips.  Many  specific  inquiries  are  besides  going  forward,  under 
particular  individuals,  to  whom  they  were  confided ;  whilst  it  is  not  to  be 
doubted  that  numberless  persons,  many  of  them  perhaps  new  to  the  world 
of  science,  are  at  this  moment  pursuing  investigations  recommended  in 
general  terms  in  one  or  other  of  the  pubUcations  of  the  Society.  To  others 
file  Association  has  not  scrupled  to  commit  a  portion  of  the  funds  at  their 
disposal,  for  the  purpose  of  pursuing  objects  which  required  an  outlay 
which  might  be  deemed  unreasonable  by  individuals.  Among  the  most 
important  of  these  is  the  collection  of  the  Numerical  Constants  of  Nature 
and  Art,  which  are  of  perpetual  recurrence  in  physical  inquiries,  and  which 
has  been  confided  to  the  superintendence  of  Mr.  Babbage.  When  objects 
of  stUl  more  peculiar  national  importance  presented  themselves,  the  Asao* 
ciation  has  fulfilled  its  pledge,  of  stimulating  government  to  the  aid  of 
science.  Five  hundred  pounds  have  been  advanced  by  the  Lords  of  the 
Treasury  towards  the  reduction  of  the  Greenwich  Observations,  at  the  xa^* 
stance  of  the  Association ;  and  more  recently  the  observations  recommended 
by  the  Committee  on  Tides  have  been  undertaken  by  order  of  the  Lords  of 
the  Admiralty,  at  above  500  stations  on  the  coast  of  Britain.  Individoala 
as  we  have  said,  have  been  stimulated  by  the  influence  of  the  Asso* 
ciation,  but  so  may  nations  and  great  bodies  of  men.  Its  published  Fro* 
ceedings  have  found  their  way  into  every  quarter,  and  are  tending  to  pro^ 
duce  corresponding  efforts  in  distant  lands.  Our  reports  on  science  have 
produced  some  very  interesting  counterparts  in  the  literary  town  of  Ge- 
neva. America  has  taken  the  lead  in  several  departments  of  experiment 
recommended  by  the  Association ;  and  the  instructions  for  conducting  uni« 
form  systems  of  observation  have  been  reprinted  and  circulated  in  the  New 
World.  We  most  likewise  consider  it  as  an  especial  proof  of  the  inflaenes 
and  importance  of  the  Association,  that  a  report  on  the  Pkogreaa  of 
American  Geology  has  been  undertaken  and  executed  by  PEofesaor,Rogqpi 
of  Philadelphia.     Similar  contributions  from  some  other  foreign  countriea 


Bri^»h  AM9W!kttkmfar  the  AdvaMcemettt  of  Stk^cS.  347 

hinre-  becm  piomifldd,  wfakb  will  extend  the  utility  of  the  Afleociali(m»  hf 
making  us  acquainted  with  the  more  characteristic  state  of  science  in  tb« 
Tarious  parts  of  Europe.  Nor  can  we  fail,  on  the  present  occasion,  to  con- 
sider as  a  most  auspicious  promise  of  the  future  success  of  the  Association, 
that  the  distinguished  Secretary  of  the  Institute  of  France  has  not  only 
honoured  this  meeting  hy  his  presence,  hut  has  promised  to  interest  that 
powerful  hody  on  behalf  of  the  important  objects  contemplated  by  the 
Association,  which  its  co-operation  might  effectually  secure.  The7orma- 
tion  of  a  Statistical  Section  at  Cambridge  was  the  prelude  to  the 
eataftblishment  of  a  flourishing  society,  which  acknowledges  itself  the  off- 
spring of  this  Institution,  and  which  promises,  by  a  procedure  similar 
to  that  introduced  by  the  Association,  to  adrance  materially  the  greatly 
lie^eoted  subject  of  British  Statistics." 

Ptoffessor  Sedgwick  was  chairman  of  the  Cambridge  meetings 
anfd  Sir  Thomas  Brisbane  of  that  at  Edinburgh.  After  the  long 
extract  just  given^  which  embraces  a  notice  of  the  most  important 
subjects  discussed  on  the  two  occasions^  we  must  now  confine  our* 
selves  to  some  only  of  those  which  ^n^  from  their  popular  nature, 
be  conveniently  introduced  here. 

In  the  statistical  section  Mr.  Heywood  gave  an  account  of  4^102 
families  of  operatives  in  Manchester.  The  numbers  in  each  family 
were  on  the  average  five^  which  is  low,  because  the  common  one  is 
SIX  and  a  half.  Tliey  resided  in  3^100  houses^  752  cellars^  and  250 
rooms.  About  600  of  these  residences  were  respectable,  and  &bout 
1,200  ordinarily  comfortable :  but  more  than  one  half  were  dirty 
atid  destitute.  There  were  8,821  children  under  the  age  of  twelve, 
of  whom  only  252  attended  day  schools  ;  4,680  received  instruction 
at  Sunday-schools,  and  nearly  one  half  were  entirely  destitute  of 
education.  The  number  of  parents  who  could  read  amounted  to 
3,114  :  of  these  fitmilies  2,021  belonged  to  the  Established  Church ; 
1,473  were  Roman  Catholics,  591  were  Dissenters,  and  17  declared 
that  tiiey  had  no  religion.  The  small  number  that  attended  day 
spools  was  noticed  as  a  lamentable  instance  of  the  little  that  has  yet 
been  efl^ted  fb^  the  moral  improvement  of  England.  It  was  als^ 
stated  that  the  education  received  at  these  schools  was  miserable 
ill  amount,  and  bad  in  Quality.  Respecting  Sunday  Schools  it  was- 
said,  t^at  they  had  produced  most  beneficial  effects  both  on  the 
cUldren  and  on  the  parents.  This  re-action  upon  the  parents  is  a 
most  interesting  fact.  The  Rev.  E.  Stanley,  of  Cheshire,  stated 
that  he  knew  of  no  instance  in  which  the  children  of  poor  or  profli* 
gate  parents,  if  regular  attendants  at  our  schools,  had  not  transmit- 
ted  to  their  homes  a  portion  of  the  benefit  derived.  Indeed,  we 
have  no  right  to  argue  from  occasional  disappointment,  that  educa- 
tioB  is  either  useless  or  impolitic.  How  pi^igate  and  barbarous 
would  have  been  the  population  of  our  manuiacturing  districts,  had 
not  the  dark  scene  been  enlightened  by,  here  and  there,  a  ray  of 
iAteQeehial  light,  and  the  whole  more  or  less  soothed,  and  in  some 
degrae  GOntioUed,  by  the  civilizing  powers  of  revealed  religion. 


Mr.  Wbevel  ddSvered  a  lecture  on  several  i&tawtiiig  {iheno* 
ma  connected  with  the  tides.  He  observed,  that  the  state  ot  m* 
formation  with  respect  to  tides^  amongst  philosophers^  was  in  the 
same  situation  as  that  with  respect  to  the  general  principles  6t 
astronomy  among  those  who  were  the  least  learned.  The  general 
fact  of  tides  being  governed  by  the  law  of  gtavitation  and  the  attrac- 
tion of  the  moon  and  the  snn  was  known  to  the  learned^  but  of  the 
particulars  they  w^e  in  a  great  measure  ignorant.  At  the  previous 
meeting  he  therefore  called  upon  intelligent  individuals  to  institute 
investigations  upon  the  subject^  and  at  Bristol^  a  society  had  beaa 
formed  with  the  view  of  carrying  on  these  inquiries.  The  rise  aikd  fafi 
of  the  tide  averaged  at  that  place  from  fifty  to  sixty  feet.  To  fadiU- 
tate  such  investigations^  a  self-registering  instrument  waa  ocnaimct* 
ed.  to  ascertain  the  rate  of  the  rise  and  fall  of  the  tides)  by  tkisp 
the  relative  altitudes  at  difierent  times  of  high  wateac  were  defi- 
neated  on  a  sheet  of  paper^  one  of  which  was  exhibited  to  the  meet- 
ing* By  this  means  the  £eu;t  was  proved^  that  at  one  period  of  the 
year  the  evening  tides  were  greater  than  the  morning,  and  at  other 
periods  the  morning  tides  were  greater  than  the  evening  <»iea. 
This  was  a  thing  which  could  not  be  observed  at  London^  because 
the  pecttliai;  position  of  that  dty  was  singular,  and  he  believed 
unique  in  the  tides  of  the  coast.  He  then  shewed  that  the  grest 
tidal  wave  of  the  Atlantic,  in  approaehing  the  shores  of  Enghnd^ 
divided  into  three  columns^  and  that  two  of  them  met  exactly  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Thames,  one  of  these  twelve  hoars  after  tha  dUter, 
80  that  each  tide  was  compounded  of  an  evenii^  and  a  morniiig 
tide,  and  in  conseijuence  there  was  no  alteration  in  the  daily  tides 
of  that  port..  With  the  view  of  prosecuting  the  investigation  of 
these  phenomena,  application  had  been  made  to  the  Admiralty^ 
to  direct  the  Coast  Guard  Service  to  make  observations  on  the 
anbject;  and  the  officers  of  that  service  had  shown  great  aiactity 
and  »9al  in  the  undertaking.  He  had  received  these  observatioiiB 
firom  the  7th  to  the  23rd  of  June  last,  but  had  not  yet  bad  time  to 
examine  them  fully ;  but  from  a  cursory  glance  they  appeared  to  be 
fd  great  value,  and  they  were  at  present  undergoing  examination 
by  direction  of  the  Admiralty. 

Processor  Stevelley,  of  Belfast,  read  a  paper,  attesnptii^  to  oon- 
nect  some  of  the  most  commonly  known  phenomena  in  meteonH 
logy,  with  well  established  physical  principles.  First,  as  to  the 
natuxe  and  origin  of  clcmds,  and  the  consequences  whi<^,  by  the 
laws  of  physics,  are  immediately  consecutive  upon  their  formation. 
Secondly,  how  rain  is  originated,  and  the  immediate  eoneequenoes 
of  its  production.  Thirdly,  the  origin  of  wind,  in  the  SoimM  of  the 
bseeze,  the  gale,  the  storm,  up  to  the  sweeping  tornado.  He  tnain- 
teined  that  clouds  were  assemblages  of  spherules  of  watar^  im  #^ 
position  to  the  common  hypothesis  that  they  are  vesiolet>  ck  as 
it  were,  Uadders  of  watwy  films,  containing  moist  air>  havii^  a 
tendency  to  buoy  them  up.    One  of  his  arguments  was,  that  no 


Britisk  AtmtMUmfw  the  Advancement  df  Science.  MS 

pfekjwidiJ  lav  hikd  «ver  hem  proved  to  eidst,  that  woitM  iiccoant  for 
the  prochctioa  of  vesicular  congtituents  of  clouds:  but  the  well* 
established  laws  of  capillary  attraction  would  account  for  the  pro- 
dnction  of  minute  spherules  of  water,  at  pretty  regular  distances,  id 
any  portion  of  i^ace,  which  have  become  so  overloaded  with  vapour 
of  water  (and  this  indeed  is  nothing  but  steam)  as  to  be  incapable 
of  retaminff  it  longer;  it  is  to  be  remarked  that  the  intermediate 
f«rt«  ate  then  left  hygrometrically  drier  than  before.  The  minute 
neo  of  the  doudy  spherules  would  alone  be  sufficient  practically  to 
MSpend  them^  as  even  gold  or  platina  may  be  so  subdivided  as  to 
desottid  with  less  than  any  assigned  velocity  through  the  resisting 
mr ;  for  the  weight  of  a  sphere  diminishes  as  the  cube  of  its  radius 
10  diminished;  but  the  resistance  it  would  meet  with  at  any  as^ 
signed  velocity^  would  only  diminish  as  the  souare  of  the  same 
Tfidius.  Also,  as  clouds  are  known  to  be  bignly  electrical^  each 
spherule  must  have  its  own  electrical  atmosphere,  which  b^  repeU 
Img  die  dry  air  aH  around  (as  pith  balls  repel  each  other),  in  effect 
inereases  the  size  ct  the  drop,  without  adding  any  thing  to  its 
weight.  The  effects  of  the  formation  of  clouds  was  then  traced  ] 
one  out  of  many  was  stated  to  be  an  augmentation,  often  to-  a  great 
extent,  of  the  electrical  tension  of  the  cloudy  parts,  and  this  was 
•eimply  explained  on  the  common  electrical  principles^  particularly 
Ihe  (tee,  that  an  electrified  body,  if  diminished  in  bulk,  had  its 
eteotrical  tension  increased.  He  then  showed  how,  on  the  princi^- 
fieai  eleciricalinduetion,  oppoMtely  electrified  clouds  resulted  from 
the  near  approach  Of  two  clouds  to  one  another^  but  principaQy 
ftom  the  approach  of  masses  of  clouds  to  hills  or  moontaius,  to 
which  they  seemed  to  attach  themselves,  while  their  outer  parts 
frequently  sent  off  oppositely  electrified  scud  or  cumulus. 

This  lirought  him  to  ihe/ormcUion  of  rain,  which  was  shewn  t^ 
result  firom  douds  charged  with  opposite  electricities  coming  toge* 
ther,  each  spherule  of  one  running  to  a  spherule  or  more  of  the 
ether :  they  suddenly  cofdesce  by  capillary  attraction,  form  a  larger 
sphere,  and  as  the  case  may  be,  either  descend  lower  in  the  atmo-^ 
sphere  as  heavier  cloud,  or  if  the  spherules  formed  became  as 
large  as  drops,  they  descend  as  rain,  with  a  velocity  proportionctd 
id  their  size,  and  the  height  at  whidi  they  had  be^i  formed.  On 
the  production  of  wind,  he  did  not  stop  to  trace  the  effect  of  thd 
sun,  volcanic  fires,  or  other  sources  of  extenml  heat,  in  disturbing  the 
atmospheric  equilibrium. 

The  efficacy  of  the  formation  of  clouds  in  the  production  of 
wind,  and  also  the  manner  in  which  a  fall  of  rain  gave  rise  to  all  its 
various  forms,  were  points  on  which  he  dwelt.  The  last  thing  treated 
of  was  the  formation  of  kail,  winch  he  showed  must  be  forttied 
when,  after  the  fidl  of  some  rain,  a  sudden  and  extensive  vaouum 
being  caused,  the  quantity  of  caloric  abstracted  was  so  laige  as  la 
cause  the  rest  of  the  drops  to  freeze  into  ioe-balls  as  they  formed. 


850  JacquenumtU  Jomime^  ^A 

This  principle  he  said  had  been  strangely  ovedooked,  althoiKj^ 

si  nee  the  days  of  Sir  John  Leslie^  every  person  was  familiar  with 
experiments  on  a  small  scale  illustrative  of  it.  He  also  said  fiatt 
the  interesting  mine  of  Chemnitz^  in  Hungary^  afibrded  an  ei^f- 
rimental  exhibition  of  the  formation  oi  hail^  on  a  magnifioent 
scale.  In  that  mine^  the  drainage  of  water  is  raised  by  an  eagine^ 
in  which  common  air  is  violently  compressed  in  a  large  ca^t-iroa 
vessel.  While  the  air  is  in  a  state  of  high  compressiosiya  wprkoua 
desires  the  visitor  to  hold  his  hat  before  a  cock  which  he  turns  ^ 
the  compressed  air,  as  it  rushes  out  over  the  surface  of  the  water 
within^  brings  out  some  with  it,  which  is  frozen  into  ice-bolts,  by 
the  cold  generated  by  the  air  aa  it  expands;  and  these  shoot 
through  the  hat,  to  the  no  small  annoyance  of  one.  party,  but  i9 
the  infinite  amusement  of  the  other. 

Such  were  some  of  the  more  popular  and  least  technical  subjeete 
discussed  and  elucidated  at  the  fourth  meeting  of  the  British  Aaao- 
ciation  held  at  Edinburgh.  But  we  could  do  no  more  than  mefell 
skim  over,  or  touch  upon  these ;  and  must  leave  the  sctenti^ 
reader,  after  saying  that  the  strongest  expressions  of  apprabatioii 
and  admiration  we  have  in  our  vocabulary  are  not  too  much  in  de- 
scribing its  greatness  and  growing  importance  as  well  as  paat  at- 
dhievements.  The  report  of  the  third  meeting  has  been  pubMalied 
by  the  Society :  that  of  the  fourth,  and  of  all  succeeding  meetiiifia^ 
will  of  course  follow ;  which,  if  we  are  to  judge  from  that  which 
has  been  done,  will  take  their  place  by  the  side  of  the  most  curiouj^ 
and  valuable  tri^actions  that  have  ever  been  published  by  i^y] 
public  body. 

Art.  VI. — Letters  fr<mi  India;  including  a  Jcumey  in  the  British 
Dominions  of  India,  By  Victor  Jacqubkont.  London:  Ghurtonv  1834^ 

This  Journey  has  for  some  time  excited  great  interest  wherever 
the  French  edition  was  known ;  and  now  that  it  is  in  an  Engli^ 
dress,  the  feeling  with  which  it  has  hitherto  been  received  will  hf. 
very  much  extended.  These  letters  are  such,  that  the  moment 
they  are  looked  into  convinces  one  that  they  will  become  m  fiitim 
the  delight  of  the  young,  and  the  favourite  of  the  old.  There  is  S 
charm  about  them,  which  nothing  but  moral  excellence  can  com- 
municate. They  rarely  allude  to  his  scientific  pursuits.  This  is 
left  to  a  future  work,  which  will  contain  the  fruits  of  his  labours  as 
a  natunJist.  But  they  are  the  easy,  simple,  and  ofi^-hand  exfrns? 
9ion  of  a  first  rate  intellect,  as  well  as  ardent  heart,  which  gamed 
friends  and  admirers  wherever  he  was  known.  His  powers  <if  de* 
scription  are  of  the  happiest  kind ;  hke  every  original  artist,  he 
gives  a  valuable  character  to  all  he  delineates,  genmUy  ooofeniog 
upon  every  picture  a  humorous  cast  of  countenance,  and  yet  therdby 


J&cquenwnfs  Journey  in  India,  351 

_  ■ 

tolhmnnicatmg  the  most  delicate  instruction.  Perhapis  the  chief 
Talae  of  this  collection^  however,  will  be  found  in  the  accounts 
which  he^  with  the  utmost  freedom,  gives  of  our  Indian  posses- 
liitms,  the  effects  of  our  government  on  the  native  population^  and 
the  ftiture  prospects  of  Hindostan.  These  features  belong  to  this 
collection,  as  mdeed  may  more  readily  be  presumed,  when  it  ia 
known  that  none  of  the  letters  were  meant  for  publication,  all  of 
them  being  strictly  confidential,  and  written  with  the  liveliness  and 
truth  of  an  affectionate  young  man,  whose  heart  clung  to  his  home, 
his  fkmily,  and  friends. 

This  translation  is  enhanced  in  value  by  the  particulars  which  it 
communicates  of  the  life  of  the  interesting  young  naturalist,  which 
we  will,  by  way  of  introduction,  run  over.  Victor  Jacquemont  was 
bom  at  Paris,  in  1801.  His  &ther  is  a  philosopher  of  the  Tracy 
schooF,  and  a  writer,  as  well  as  man,  held  in  the  highest  estima- 
tion. But  the  son,  though  led  by  his  connexions  to  £Etvour  this 
system  6t  ideology,  was  inclined  to  investigate  facts,  rather  than 
unravel  the  i)erplexities  of  metaphysics.  His  intimacv'with  Baron 
Cavier,  which  was  close,  must  also  have  strengthened  his  love  for 
the  pursuit  of  natural  science.  He  had,  when  very  young,  under- 
taken a  voyage  to  Hayti,  where  one  of  his  brothers  was  settled, 
and  thence  to  the  United  States.  In  these  countries,  his  talent  for 
unwearied  research  was  remarkable,  and  therefore  it  seems  to  have 
been,  that  the  Baron  took  him  by  the  hand,  and  secured  his  iqp- 
pointment  by  the  Council  of  the  Museum  of  Natural  History,  in  a 
scientific  mission  to  the  East,  the  French  government  supplying 
him  with  means,  though  not  very  liberally,  of  accomplishing  his 
oibject.  And  we  are  told,  that  the  result  of  his  labours,  though  not 
inserted  in  these  volumes,  will  greatly  enrich  science,  and  go  much 
beyond  what  could  have  been  anticipated,  through  the  efibrts  of 
any  one  man. 

In  pursuance  of  his  mis3ion,  Jacquemont  arrived  in  London  in 
1838,  and  through  a  letter  of  introduction  from  the  celebrated 
Cuvier  to  Sir  Alexander  Johnson,  one  of  the  Vice  Presidents  of  the 
Royal  Asiatic  Society  of  Literature,  and  Chairman  of  their  Com- 
mittee of  Correspondence,  he  was  enabled  to  overcome  many  dif- 
ficulties which  beset  him  at  the  very  commencement  of  his  under- 
taking. He  was  invited  to  attend  all  the  meetings  of  the  Society ; 
to  jnwe  use,  whenever  he  pleased,  of  their  library  and  their  museum ; 
and  was  elected  one  of  their  foreign  members.  He  was  recom- 
mended in  the  strongest  terms  to  Lord  William  Bentinck,  the 
Governor-General  of  British  India,  to  Sir  John  Malcolm^  the 
(Jovemor  of  Bombay,  to  Mr.  Lushington,  the  Governor  of  Madras,, 
and  to  Sir  Edward  Owen,  the  Commander-in-chief  of  the  British 
Navy  in  the  Indian  Seas ;  besides  many  other  influential  personages 
aad  public  functionaries  in  the  East.  It  will  be  seen  firom  his 
letters  that  his  reception  by  all  these  was  of  the  most  flattering  and 


35t  Jaefuemota*9  Jimme^  in  InHtL 

ftdTsntageous  kind^  for  which  the  young  naturalbt  Mt  the  mofll 
glowing  gratitude. 

This  leads  us  merely  to  notiee  the  fect^  that»  at  the  period  when' 
Jacquemont  prepared  for  his  travels,  there  were  certain  opinions 
implicitlY  yielded  to  hy  the  liberal  politicians  of  France»  wUch 
taught  that  intense  selfishness  characterised  the  policy  of  England 
in  public,  and  the  conduct  of  the  English  in  priyate ;  that  in  India 
our  dominion  depended  on  the  will  of  Russia,  and  would  ape9ddy 
be  brought  to  a  dose.  To  these  prejudices  he  had  fully  yieldM, 
till  his  arrival  in  this  country.  Nor  did  they  ever  whoUy  disappear, 
though  this  might  partly  be  owing  to  the  fastidious  scruples  as  to  the 
object  of  his  misaion,  at  first  entertained  by  the  Monarchs  of  Leaden- 
hfldl  Street,  who  at  length  granted  him  the  nec^sary  credentids. 
Still  he  yielded  slowly  and  gradually  to  the  strong  evidence  of  fai^ 
in  the  course  of  his  career,  and  therefore  his  testimony  as  a  witness 
in  behalf  of  England  is  above  suspicion. 

After  encountering  the  greatest  difEculties  and  privations  in  his 
arduous  labtmrs,  Jacquemont  was  attacked  with  that  hane  of  Indian 
climes,  the  liver  complaint.  He  was  then  at  Tanna,  a  town  and 
fortress  m  the  island  of  Salsette,  where,  pursuing  his  researches, 
he  imbibed  under  a  burning  sun,  and  in  the  most  unhealthy  aeaaon 
of  the  year,  the  seeds  of  the  disease  which  terminated  his  1^.  He 
expired  at  Bombay  on  the  7th  of  December  1832,  after  lingering 
more  than  a  month  in  intense  agony,  a  victim  to  an  almost  Qnixotic 
ardour  in  the  pursuit  of  scientific  knowledge.  In  person  he  was 
very  tall,  and  had  rather  an  awkward  gait.  But  genius  beamed 
firom  his  fine  countenance,  and  in  its  expression  mig^t  be  read  the 
workings  of  his  mind.  He  was  deeply  and  generally  lamented  in 
India,  where  he  had  acquired  many  friends.  At  first,  be  aeaned 
cold  and  stately  in  his  manners,  not  from  reflection,  but  from  aA 
impulse  identic  with  his  nature,  which  may  account  for  the  oka* 
racter  given  of  him  by  some  who  casually  met  him,  <^  being  frigid 
and  the  least  communicative  of  men.  On  the  contrary,  howevor, 
he  was  of  the  most  afl^ioni^  and  ardent  nature.  Among  hie 
friends  he  was  lively  to  excess,  entertaining  in  the  highest  degree!* 
and  foil  of  sparkling  wit. 

Such  are  some  of  the  particulars  by  which  this  translation  ia  pre- 
fiiced  ;  but  Jacquemont's  delightfol  letters  abound  so  greatly  with 
the  outpourings  of  the  noblest  and  finest  feelings,  that  no  other 
testimony  is  necessary  in  his  behalf.  Our  readers  will  blame  ua 
the  moment  they  taste  the  charm  of  his  correspondence,  for  keep- 
ing them  so  long  as  we  have  done  at  the  threshold  of  inatmelive 
entertainment.  As  is  befitting,  we  begin  with  his  letters  from  Cal* 
cntta,  although  many  have  preceded  these,  written  from  the  varioos 
parts  at  which  he  touched  in  his  voyage  firom  France: — 

"  People  do  not  come  here  to  live,  and  enjoy  life ;  they  come — and  ttii 
is  the  case  in  all  states  of  society  here — iu  order  to  gain  something  Ss; 


^oy  life  elsQwhera.  There  is  no  such  a  thin(p  |ia  a  man  of  leisu^re  at 
Calcutta.  The  gofvemor-general  has  the  most  to  do ;.  next  to  lum  thfi 
chief  justice ;  and.  after  these,  the  advocate-general,  and  so  on.  It  is 
almost  wholly  among  this  class  of  men  that  some  are  to  he  foand  whose 
taste  for  stady  can  enahle  them  to  steal  a  few  moments  of  leisure  amid  the 
duties  of  their  station.  All  who  are  not  men  of  highly  gifibed  intelleol 
8Don  lose  their  energy,  and  yield  to  disgraceful  indolence.  Immediately 
below  the  higher  ranks,  you  find  the  most  mlgar  and  common  rabble  t— * 
yet,  lor  a  truly  small  number  of  Europeans,  there  are  jourinds  without 
nnmber,  both  political  and  litowry  t  tiiere  are  learned  societies,  or  societies 
calling  tbemselyes  such,  of  every  denomination*— craniological,  phren^* 
logiiid,  horticultural,  liteiary,  medical,  Wernerian,  and  J  bdow  not  bow 
many  bendes— »whose  members  scarcely  yield  eii;her  in  science  or  appetite 
to  similar  institutions  in  the  United  States.  I  could  not  hesitate  between 
such  savans  as  these  and  y^xy  eminent  men»  devoted  to  studies  quite  dif- 
ferent from  my  own.  Thus,  as  I  sent  you  word,  my  first  host  was  Mr. 
Pearson,  advocate-general  of  Bengal,  and  the  only  lawyer  who  ever  came 
from  England  with  a  great  reputation  already  established.  He  is  a  man 
of  at  least  your  age,  fiill  of  sense  and  good  humour,  and  a  liberal,  like 
otmeWes — which,  in  English,  means  a  radical.  I  know  not  what  con- 
fidence I  inspire  these  people  with,  but  they  open  their  hearts  to  me  on 
points  about  which  they  are  afraid  to  speak  to  each  other  alter  years  of 
acquaintance.  They  have  the  most  favourable  prepossessions  with  re- 
gard to  the  reason,  liberality,  and  independence  eidsting  in  the  (pinions  of 
a  Frenchman. 

"  But  the  man  who,  perhaps,  does  most  honour  to  Europe  in  Asia,  is  he 
who  governs  it.  Lord  W.  Bentinck,  on  the  throne  of  the  Great  Mogpil^ 
thinks  and  acts  like  a  Pennsylvanian  Quaker.  You  may  easily  imagine 
that  there  aie  people  who  talk  loudly  of  the  dissolution  of  the  empire  and 
pf  the  world's  end,  when  they  behold  the  temporary  ruler  of  Asia  riding 
on  horseback,  plainly  dressed,  and  without  escort,  or  on  his  way  into  the 
country  with  his  umbrella  under  his  arm.  Like  you,  he  has  mixed  in 
scenes  of  tumult  and  bloodshed ;  and,  like  yoD,  he  has  preserved  pure  and 
unsullied  that  flower  of  humanity  which  Uie  habits  of  a  mifitaiy  life  so 
often  wither,  leaving  in  it^  stead  nothing  but  good-nature.  Having  been 
tried  also  by  the  most  comiptiiig  of  professions,  that  of  diplomatist,  he  hae 
msoed  fiKim  the  ordeal  with  the  upright  mind,  and  the  simple  and  siiicere 
language  of  a  Franklin,  convinced  that  there  is  no  cleverness  in  appearing 
worse  than  one  is.  I  have  been  his  host  en  famUle  for  a  week  in  the 
country,  and  shall  always  remember  with  pleasure  and  emotion  the  long 
Conversations  I  had  with  him  in  the  evenings.  I  seemed  to  be  talking 
wftli  a  friend  like  yourself ;  and  when  I  considered  the  immense  power  of 
this  excellent  man,  I  rejoiced  for  the  sake  of  humanity." — ^vol.  i.  pp.  84 — ^8. 

In  liis  first  letter,  which  was  from  Brest,  after  leaving  his  fiunil^^ 
he  ia^fi  to  his  brother,  '^  There  is  a  conflict  within  me,  and  that  it 
was  high  tiipe  indeed,  five  days  ago,  that  six  o'clock  should  stiikft 
nrhen  you  saw  me  to  the  carriage,  for  my  feelings  were  nigh  over- 
eoming  me."  In  another  letter  to  his  father,  evidently  to  eaoourago 
himself  as  weU  as  the  other,  he  predicts  thus :  '^  The  time  passes  so 
quickly,  that  I  already  see  its  termination,  aqd  I  expect  that  Toa 
will  say  t*  me  in  five  years,  when  I  return, '  WiiatI  alieaayl* 


^64  Jacquemoi^^s  Journey  ik  India, 

My  barometers  and  instruments  go  on  excellently.  You  will  Me 
ihem  affain  in  five  years."  It  is  by  such  sentiments  and  expres- 
sions, tnat  Jacquemont  winds  himself  more  firmly  round  the 
reader's  heart  by  every  letter  he  writes^  and  every  st^  he  takes.  We 
find  not  a  page,  at  the  same  time,  that  abounds  not  with  sage 
matter  and  fine  writing.  His  eye  is  ever  ready  to  look  at  the 
English  character,  which  must  confer  on  these  volumes  a  singular 
value  in  this  country.  At  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  in  particular, 
during  his  passage  to  the  East,  he  had  an  opportunity  of  judging 
of  our  colonial  policy,  and  he  begins  to  rise  above  his  early  pre- 
iudices  respecting  the  haughty  and  selfish  islanders,  which  most 
Frenchmen  are  taught  to  consider  us  every  where  to  be.  He  says, 
*'  The  collossal  magnitude  of  the  English  sway  is  a  blessiog." 
Again,  *'  The  war  wliich  the  government  carries  on  against  the 
slave  trade,  is  sincere.  At  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  since  the 
British  have  been  masters  there,  not  a  slave  has  been  imported.'* 
And  when  arrived  in  India,  his  reception  was  so  warm,  even  by  the 
very  highest  in  station,  that  he  could  not  but  be  exceedingly  flayer 
tered,  and  every  where  he  freely  gives  expression  to  his  gratitude^ 
and  ffenerous  interpretation  >  of  the  motives  of  those  who  thsm 
opened  their  arms  to  receive  him. 

Of  some  of  Jacquemont's    occupations  while  in  Calcutta,  take 
the  following  account : — 

"  In  the  midst  of  this  mass  of  business,  9i  pundit  of  Benares  came  eFer)^ 
day,  in  town,  to  pass  an  hour  in  teaching  me  Hindoostanee.  I  had,  dutiag 
my  voyage,  thoroughly  understood  Sir  William  Jones's  exceUent  Fersiaii 
Grammar ;  this  has  been  an  useful  preparative  to  the  Hindoostanee,  whic^, 
as  you  knoWt  is  nothing  but  a  sort  of  compromise  between  the  language  of 
the  conquerors  of  India  and  that  of  the  conquered — ^a  contemptible  Bbaip^ 
less  medley  of  Persian  and  Sanskrit.  I  regret  being  obliged  to  devote  ae 
much  time  to  such  a  study ;  but  what  should  I  do  if  I  were  compelled  to 
q)eak  to  people  only  through  the  medium  of  an  interpreter  }  So  I  do  not 
spare  myself.  It  is  a  difficult  study.  You,  of  course,  when  at  Constea- 
tioople,  learned  some  little  Torki^h.  You  know  the  detestable  system,  of 
writing  of  the  Mahometan  nations  of  Asia — a  sort  of  short-hand ;  and  ao 
difficult  to  read,  that  the  natives  themselves  can  never  do  it  readily. 
Then  again,  the  ^hole  vocabularv  is  entirely  new  to  ua,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  some  Sanskrit  words  which  we  have  obtained  through  the  meJ 
dium  of  the  Latin,  the  Greek,  and  the  Gothic  idiom  of  the  Franks ;  add 
to  these  difficulties,  that  of  hearing  nasal  sounds  which  scarcely  differ  w 
anything  from  a  balked  sneeze,  and  of  forming  gutturals  taken  second*^ 
hand  from  the  Arabs,  which  require  throats-  of  rustv  iron,  parched  witk 
thirst,  and  you  will  have  Hindoostanee.  When,  by  hard  study,  yen 
have  mastered  these  difficulties,  you  have  acquired  after  all,  only  a  con-^' 
tempdUe  patois  without  any  literature^^a  language  of  the  court  mmd 
courtiers^  and  of  the  guard-house,  as  its  name  imports  (^urdu  wabamt  tbe: 
language  of  camps),  which  will  be  neither  useful  nor  agreeaUe  out  of  the 
country  in  which  it  is  spoken. 

"  The  Calcutta  botanical  garden  is  an  irameose  and  magnificent  esMK 
lishment,  in  which  are  cultivated  a  great  number  of  the  vegetables  of 


Jncqti3BfMiU'^$  Journey  m  India.  355 

firiti^li  India,  of  some  neighbouring  territories,  and  particularly  those  of 
tbe  Nepatd,  a  curious  country,  whose  heights,  sending  into  the  gulfs  (if 
Bengal  and  Cambaya  the  waters  which  drop  Arom  their  eternal  snows* 
nourish  a  vegetation  very  similar,  in  some  points,  to  that  of  the  Alps  and 
tbe  Caucasus.  A  Danish  botanist  of  mecHocre  talents,  who  passes  here 
for  the  first  in  the  world,  is  the  director  of  this  establishment ;  he  has  cer- 
tainly the  best  income  of  any  savant  in  existence.  Being  on  a  two  year's 
leaye  of  absence^  he  has  left  the  garden  under  the  care  of  a  member  of  the 
council,  who  has  amicably  installed  me  in  it,  in  the  best  possible  manner 
-for  working  well  and  quickly.  I  have,  in  six  weeks,  been  able  to  scrape 
acquaintance  with  the  whole  vegetable  host  of  India,  collected  together  in 
a  small  space.  A  very  expensive  and  very  complete  botanical  library,  an- 
nexed to  the  superb  habitation  of  the  absent  director,  serves  me  as  head 
quarters." — vol.  i.  pp.  89 — 91. 

We  find  from  his  first  letters  from  India^  that  he  endured  the 
change  of  climate  at  first  with  uncommoil  Success^  his  secret  being 
abstmioosness;  but  that  his  enterprise  threatened  to  be  completely 
mBTted  through  the  want  of  liberal  support  from  France.  We  will 
afterwards  see  how  munificently  and  unexpected  his  finances  were 
JBfcqpplied,  during  certain  parts  oi  his  journey.  Still  the  government 
luid  societies  at  home  deserve  to  be  exposed  for  their  injudicious 
parsimony.  Here  is  more  about  the  English  and  himself  in  Cal- 
cutta : — 

.  **  Truly,  I  do  not  think  I  have  a  mind  better  constituted  than  any  one 
else,  but  my  vanity  has  not  once  suffered  on  account  of  my  poverty,  aiid 
I  am  poor,  very  poor.  What  more  could  I  desire  than  I  obtained — atten- 
tioDk  kindness,  and  flattering  marks  of  distinction  ?  Nothing.  My  man- 
ners, which  I  have  left  natural,  and  have  not  made  stiff,  as  it  is  perhailB 
fapedient  to  do  with  the  English  of  the  common  class,  has  had  the  good 
forlune  to  please.  I  have  spoken  of  all  things  to  the  best  of  my  ability, 
and  without  affectation.  Some,  perhaps,  have  liked  me  on  that  account; 
all  i^yc  shown  me  attention;  none  have  offended  me.  Very  seldom,  I 
ihixik,  has  a  Frenchman  had  such  extensive  and  universally  agreeable 
int^nsourse  with  the  English.  I  forget  that  I  knew  the  language  very 
lUiles — I  spoke  like  a  Frenchman.  They  were  infinitely  pleased  with 
mf  waqt  of  pretension,  my  genuine  simplicity,  and  my  unaffected  man- 
M^.  My  academic  dignity  from  London  has  been  of  no  use  to  me,  any 
m6kfa  than  my  official  title  from  Paris:  and  no  modesty  can  prevent  me 
Inpm  tttying,  that  it  is  on  my  own  personal  account  that  every  one  has 
been  kind  and  hospitable. 

'  **  Th6  character  of  Lord  William  Bentinck  inspires  me  with  a  profound 
lOPpect,  which  he  no  doubt  perceives.  He  is  an  old  soldier,  abhorring 
wW;  a  patriot  without  reserve,  though  son  of  an  English  duke;  and, 
slthcugh  Orand  Mogtil  for  the  time  being,  he  is  an  honest  man  after  my 
own  heart,  plain  and  open;  in  short,  he  won  my  regard!  And  as  no 
people  are  so  amiable  as  those  who  love  us,  Lord  William  showed  me 
gsaat  kindness.  I  have  passed  more  than  one  evening  with  him  talking 
poUdcs  in  a  retired  corner  of  his  lady's  drawing  room,  as  I  do  with  two 
or  thr^e  friends  at  Paris.  I  was  happy  to  see  so  much  power  in  such 
pure  hands.'*'— vol.  i.  pp.  112, 113. 

TQL.  III.  (1634.)  wo.  lit.  cc 


356  Jaepiemont[8  Journey  in  India. 

Lady  William  Bentinck's  attentions  to  him  aflfected  him  mnclL 
They  never  conversed^  he  says,  on  insignificant  subjects,  religioli 
being  frequently  the  topic,  where  however  they  cQsagreed,  she 
being  a  strict  believer,  he,  by  his  own  shewing,  quite  the  reverse. 
Nothing  seems  to  have  astonished  him  more  than  the  salaries  and 
pensions  of  (he  functionaries,  which  he  often  names.  The  Chirf 
Justice  of  India  ("  200,000  francs  a  year,  and  52,000  francs  fiir 
life,  after  ten  years  service*')  is  thus  spoken  of  by  the  young  na- 
turalist : — 

"  Sir  Charles  Grey,  that  pearl  of  judges,  is  consulted  hy  the  Governor- 
General  on  the  politics  of  the  country,  although  his  functions  are  purely 
judicial.  He  views  India  from  a  higher  point  than  any  other  man ;  I 
have  gained  a  great  deal  by  frequenting  his  house.  He  has  dared  to  give 
me  coffee  on  the  chess-table,  and  I  have  dared  to  ask  his  lady  to  sing 
some  Italian  airs,  which  I  have  heard  a  hundred  times  given  hy  her  in  the 
finest  style.  It  was  at  the  hour  when  the  whole  English  population  of 
Calcutta  was  either  asleep  in  bed  or  on  a  sofa,  that  we  thus  pleasantly 
wiled  away  a  couple  of  hours.  Till  seven  in  the  evening  I  worked  U1^ 
a  devil,  and  so  did  he.  On  returning  from  the  garden  dirty  and  wet,  I 
frequently  found  a  horse  bridled  and  saddled  waiting  for  me,  and  before 
I  washed  and  shaved,  &c.,  I  had  half  an  hour's,  or  three  quarters  of  sn 
hour's  gallop,  every  day  visiting  some  new  place,  and  taking  a  close 
view  of  the  life  of  those  singular  beings,  the  Indians.  It  was  a  life  weQ 
filled  with  labour,  physical  enjoyment,  noble  pleasures,  and  corporeal  ac- 
tivity. It  suited  my  health  extremely  well.  I  there  learned  to  walk  in 
the  sun  without  absolutely  expiring ;  but  I  dined  moderately  and  drank 
only  Claret,  whilst  the  most  abstemious  took  an  ample  portion  of  Sherry, 
Burgundy,  Claret,  Port,  and  Champagne,  and  that  daily.  I  found  I^uiy 
Grey  so  beautiful,  although  she  is  really  not  so,  that  it  was  very  well 
done  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Pearson,  to  recal  me,  that  I  might  accompany 
him  and  his  family  to  finish  the  rainy  season  and  the  vacation  at  another 
seat  of  his  near  llarrackpore." — ^voLi.  pp.  116,  II7. 

Now  of  the  young  traveller's  especial  business  and  procedure  :*-* 

**  In  another  week  I  shall  begin  this  journey  of  six  hundred  leagues 
to  the  north-west.  A  bamboo  cart,  drawn  by  oxen,  will  carry  my  lug- 
gage. A  bulluck  will  be  laden  with  the  smallest  tent  in  Ind^u  Your 
humble  servant,  devoted  to  white  horses,  will  ride  an  old  steed  of  that 
colour,  which  will  cost  him  only  a  thousand  francs  (a  good  horse  i^Kfs 
from  3,000  to  3,500  francs),  at  the  Dead  of  his  six  servants ;  one  carryxqg 
a  gun,  another  a  skin  of  water,  a  third  the  kitchen  and  pantry,  another 
with  the  horse's  breakfast,  &c.,  without  counting  the  people  wiA  ^ 

oxen. 

*'  An  English  captain  of  infantry  would  have  had  five  and  twenty 
instead  of  six ;  namely,  in  addition  to  those  I  have,  one  for  his  pipe,  one 
for  the  chaisepjTcSe,  without  which  no  Englishman  in  India  travels, 
seven  or  eight  to  pitch  his  tent — ^which  would  be  very  large,  very  heavy, 
and  very  comfortable — three  or  four  cooks,  a  washerman,  and  a  sweeper, 
&c.,  then  a  constant  relay  of  twelve  men  to  carry  his  palanquin,  in  wU(^ 
he  may  stretch  himself  when  he  is  tired  of  ridmg  on  horseback.  Yb«r 
poor  Victor,  with  the  miserable  plainness  of  his  ambulatory  establisk- 


Jaeqitemanfi  J€mmey  im  India.  357 

ment,  is  going  to  do  something  new ;  but  you  know,  my  dear  Frederick* 
that  he  has  a  pride  of  his  own,  and,  if  his  poverty  allows  him,  notwith- 
standing, to  employ  himself  upon  plants,  stones,  and  animals,  he  will 
bear  it  easily.  Besides,  he  travels  with  letters  from  the  Gorernor-General 
of  India;  and  this  is  some  little  satisfaction,  occasionaUy  very  useful  in 
Us  situation,  and  not  possessed  by  many  colonels  at  52,000  francs,  and 
ciyilians  at  60,000,  who  formed  the  crowd  where  he  was,  and  still  will  be, 
distinguished.  I  say*  mU  he^  for  precisely  at  the  same  time  as  I  do.  Lord 
and  Lady  William  6entinck,  a  laige  part  of  their  establishment,  and  se- 
veral of  the  high  officers  of  the  government,  are  to  set  out  by  nearly  the 
same  route,  for  the  extreme  north-western  frontier,  nearly  eighty  leagues 
north  of  Delhi,  to  pass  the  summer,  in  a  climate  similar  to  that  of  Swit- 
zerland, and^ producing  the  same  fruits.  They  intend  visiting  the  various 
parts  of  their  empire,  in  their  progress.  Lord  William  has  exactly  a 
thousand  times  more  people  than  I,  having  six  thousand  servants,  of  all 
kinds ;  he  is  escorted,  besides,  by  a  regiment  of  infantry,  one  of  cavalry, 
and  the  company  of  the  body-guard.  I  shall  see  him  in  the  month  of 
April,  in  a  wooden  house,  which  he  has  had  built,  six  hundred  feet  above 
the  level  of  the  sea.  I  myself  shall  be  a  little  higher  still,  ten  thousand 
feet  beyond  any  European  establishment;  but  in  very  peaceful  regions. 
You  will  ask,  no  doubt,  how  a  man  who  is  so  favoured  a  friend  of  the 
Great  Mogul's  as  I  am,  can  be  reduced  to  travel  at  the  head  of  six  beg- 
gars on  an  arrant  jade,  without  palanquin,  or  chaise-percie  ?  Well  then. 
It  is  because  the  present  Great  Mogul  has  introduced  very  rigorous,  and, 
in  this  country,  very  unpopular  measures  of  economy;  and  a  sinecure, 
which  was  possible  under  other  governments,  is  no  longer  so.  If,  more- 
over, I  had  some  temporary  mission  from  the  Indian  government,  while  I 
raised  my  income  to  30,000  francs,  for  a  few  months,  I  should  descend 
prodigiously  from  my  social  position.  I  should  enter  the  ranks  and  be 
stationed  at  the  bottom ;  whereas,  in  my  native  poverty,  I  am  something 
apart ;  not  classed  according  to  money,  and  apt  to  class  myself  according 
to  my  own  personal  good  and  amiable  qualities.  By  the  vulgar  methoa, 
that  of  splendid  carriages,  g^nd  dinners,  and  extravagant  houses,  I 
fliiould  require  at  least  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs  per  annum  to 
maintain  the  position  which  I  occupy  with  my  6,000  francs,  and  should 
probably  remain  beneath  it." — vol.  i.  pp.  119 — 121. 

By  the  way,  it  may  be  observed  that  Lord  William  Bentinck, 
aceoiding  to  this  last  statement,  is  not  always  the  plain  quakerlike 
personage  Jacmiemont  has  previously  described  him  to  be  in  the 
8]^>earance  of  his  equipage.  Here  is  a  delightful  summary  of  the 
young  Frenchman's  anticipations  and  establishment : — 

"  Let  us  now  talk  of  dangers.  I  have  obtained  statistical  accounts  of  the 
anny»  which  inform  me  that  the  average  deaths,  one  year  with  another, 
ajre  one  officer  in  thirty-one  and  a  half  in  the  Madras  army,  and  one  in 
twenty-eight  in  that  of  Bengal.  It  is  no  great  matter,  as  you  perceive. 
It  is  true,  they  do  not  lead  the  life  of  hardship  which  I  am  about  to  do, 
and  they  do  not  go  in  the  sun,  &c. ;  but,  as  a  set-off,  they  drink  a  bottle 
or  two  of  beer  and  one  of  wine  every  day,  not  to  mention  grog ;'  and  I 
dball  drink  nothing  but  water  mixed  with  a  little  drop  of  European  or 
native  brandy.  I  possess  one  of  the  best  syringes  in  India ;  but  I  conceal 
if,  as  my  moral  reputation  would  suffer.    It  is  for  want  of  lavemens^  that 

cc  2 


858  Jacqucmont's  Journey  in  Ifidia. 

the  English  for  the  most  part  die.    I  Have,  moreover,  an  ample  provisloii 
of  quinine  against  intermittent  fevers,  and  all  that  is  rie<^8sary  against 
cholera,  which  is  very  rare  where  I  am  going.     The  tigers  seldom  sa^ 
any  tiling  to  those  who  do  not  speak  to  them — ^bears  the  same.     Th0 
most  formidable  animal  is  the  elephant,  but  he  is  excessively  scaince  hi  tte 
countries  through  which  I  shall  pass.     After  all,  I  am  resolved  never  to 
speak  to  these  animals  except  to  whisper  in  their  ear,  and  never  to  fire 
but  when  sure  of  hitting.     When  on  horseback,  I  shah  atwaysr  &ave  a 
brace  of  pistols  at  hand  \  and  my  syce^  or  groom,  who  follows  me,  run- 
ning on  foot  for  six  hundred  leagues,  at  the  rate  of  six,  seven,  or  eight 
leagues  a  day,  and  my  ff  rass-cutter,  are  always  at  my  heels  like  shadows — 
o'ne  with  my  carbiile,  the  other  with  my  gun.     All  this  makes  five  baled; 
Weighing  together «  quarter  of  a  hundred.     Some  M  bers  or  brigandt 
have  certainly  appeared  in  that  direction,  but  they  have  the  stapidity  to 
rob  only  their  brethren,  the  natives,  whom  they  kill  without  m'eity,  for 
a  few  rupees ;  but  I  have  never  been  able  to  discover  a  single  itiatancii 
of  It  European  being  killed  by  them.    The  people  here  are  di^adfbl 
coward s»  and  the  English  itnpatient.  In  this  respect  I  have  been  obliged  to 
adopt  their  disagreeable  manner.    The  domestic  service  is  so  divided,  and 
each  servant  does  so  little,  except  the  special  object  of  his  engagement, 
that  an  almost  military  exactness  is  required  of  him,  by  means  of  seve- 
rity equally  military;  t^hich  is  indeed  natural  enough.     I  have  Oiie  man 
who  has  nothing  else  to  do  but  bring  me  water.    I  shall  want  him  on  my 
journey,  because,  although  there  lire  two  men  attached  to  my  cavaltj' 
(the  aforesaid  jade),  she  would  die  of  thirst  if  it  were  not  for  the  water- 
Cartier.     The  man  \Vho  cuts  the  grass  for  her  food,  and  he  who  dressed 
arid  saddles  her,  cannot  draw  water  at  a  tank.     True,  I  give  my  watercf, 
T^ho  also  g;ives  mc  drink,  only  ten  francs  a  month,  but  when  I  fihd  tfab 
man;  who  has  almost  nothing  in  the  world  to  do,  negligent  in  his  6fRt€, 
you  may  imagine  what  a  kick  I  am  inclined  to  bestow  upon  him :  and 
so  of  the  rest.     Would  you  believe  that  I  have  but  two  plisites,  yet  I  mifBt 
have  a  man  to  wash  them  on  my  journey  ?    So  if  they  are  not  clean,  woe 
tb*  him !     By  an  unusual  artifice,  I  have  accumulated  on  a  singlb  htoA 
t^e  attributes  of  cook  and  waiter  at  table.    At  table  I    As  !f  I  wer^  fcoii^ 
to  have  a  table!     An  English  ensign,  wheh  on  a  march,  had  one  m  1& 
tent,  as  well  as  chairs:  for  my  part  I  shall  eat  kneeling  dr  standinp.**-^ 
vol.  i.  pp.  121—123. 

The  passport  fumisUed  by  Lord  William  iSentincU  forked  IBNi 
magic  in  facilitating  Jacquemont*s  progress,  and  made  him  mi 
of  all  the  sweets  of  absolute  power.  We  cannot  do  better 
string  together  certain  passages  in  his  account  of  his  journey^  ahmut 
without  remark  of  any  kind  :-^ 

**  The  collections  of  all  kinds,  which  I  go  on  makiilKg  on  the  road,,  xe- 
quire  care,  in  which  I  must  be  seconded  by  several  servants;  but  tfiis 
sj^ecies  of  service  is  not  iiicluded  in  any  of  the  preceding.  So  ivhen  I 
told  my  water-carrier  to  put  his  water-skin  into  one  of  the  cars  in  tbif 
day-time,  and  walk  near  me  with  my  portfolio  under  his  arm,  td  drV 
plants,  he  said  that  it  was  not  his  business,  and  that  too  in  &  very  is&ftf- 
tinent  tone.  I  did  not  hesitate  to  give  him  a  hearty  kick  i^i&ediatBiIi% 
otherwise  another  would  have  told  me  that  it  was  not  his  place  to  (sshy  itfJT 
gun;  another  refused  to  carry  my  hammer,  and  00  on,    I  tdke  good  i!$r9 


JacfuewunU^s  Journey  in  India.  869 

not  la  order  anything  forbidden  by  their  religious  laws;  with  this  ex- 
9eptioA»  I  ei^act  imperiously,  in  addition  to  his  own  special  occupatioB» 
every  service  that  each  can  render.  I  hope  that  the  majority  will  haye 
time  to  grow  aoou»tomed  to  this  little  revolution  before  we  arrive  i^t 
Bepfgrea,  and  that  I  shali  have  but  few  vacancies  to  supply  in  that  city. 
I  was  afr^ds  on,  leaving  Calcutta,  that  I  should  soon  be  forsaken  on  the 
road  by  persons  paid  in  advance;  but  not  one  has  thought  of  doing 
80.  Hexiceforth,  with  my  escort,  they  will  not  dare.  Moreover,  at  this 
inoment  I  am  in  their  debt. 

*'  {  harden  myself  against  cold  as  well  as  heat  I  have,  it  is  true,  covered 
my  whole  body  with  flannel,  but  over  it  I  wear  only  linen  or  cotton,  as  in 
summer  at  Calcutta.  Tired  of  constantly  pulling  off  my  stockings  to 
cross  tprrentSi  I  do.not  put  them  on,  except  at  night  to  sleep  in.  Over 
my  d^y-plotkea  I  put  on  also  at  night,  when  I  go  to  bed,  a  second  flannel 
waistcoat,  very  thick  and  very  ample,  which  I  keep  on  in  the  morniuR  on 
%h^  march*  till  the  sun  renders  it  oppressive ;  but  the  wind  is  sometimea 
80  piercing,  that  I  do  not  throw  it  off.  My  Pondicherry  hat,  madei  of  date 
leaves,  and  covered  with  black  silk,  is  more  brilliant  than  ever.  In  the 
morning  I  pull  it  like  a  cap  over  my  ears,  and  find  it  very  warm.  It  takea 
every  shape  that  I  wish;  it  is  an  admirable  invention  of  mine,  light, 
water-proof,  firm,  &c."--vol.  i.  pp.  160, 161. 

It  would  be  well  that  our  countrymen  were  as  temperate  as  our 
ffaveller  was  in  India : — 

** )  journey  more  on  foot  than  on  horseback,  and  being  turned  out  of 
Hiy  roa4  by  a  thousand  objects,  I  trfivel  every  day  double  the  distaisw  that 
iny  heayy  baggage  does.  In  these  nsconnoiterings  I  am  neither  unarmed 
fl^QD^alone.  I  have  made  of  four  of  my  men,  who  are  more  active  than 
ib^  r^,  a  vanguard,  which  fallows  me  like  my  shadow.  Meanwhile,  I 
every  4ay  feel  myself  full  of  n^w  strength.  No  Englishman  ever  thought 
of  living  af  I  do,  9^^  it  is  for  this  reason  that  those  are  dead  who  atf 
fempiedto  expose  themselves  to  the  same  physical  influences.  They 
laugh  at  my  milk,  fny  eau  suorpSt  my  two  meals  separated  by  a  mean  inter* 
yal  of  thirteen  bourSi  and  my  abstinence  from  spirituous  liquors:  they 
Wo>u}4  ci^qss  themselves  (were  they  npt  heretics,  and  call  the  holy  sign 
of  the  cross  superstitious)  if  they  knew  that,  notwithstanding  all  my  absti- 

Gf^^y  I  am  often  oblig^,  in  pr4er  to  avpid  gastrq-enteritis  to^Well  I 
w  shall }  sfty  it?)  in  short,  you  understand  me,  I  am  not,  like  them, 
aflSicted  with  hydrophobia;  and  ),  in  my  turn,  lai^h  when  they  are 
1>uried,  pickled  in  champagne,  pr  {deserved  in  brandy  and  mercury, 
wMch  their  doctoirs  give  then^  by  the  half  pound." — ^vol.  i.  p.  173. 

He  v«ry  often  reeurs  to  the  mode  of  his  reception  and  treatment 
in  the  efty  of  palaoes,  or  as  he  calls  it,  of  large  houses : — 

••  How  different,  my  dear  cousin,  from  the  life  I  led  at  Calcutta, 
where  1  spent  the  leisure  which  study  left  me,  in  noble  and  serious  plea- 
sures— the  most  exquisite  of  European  civilization.  I  have  talked  politics, 
with  my  democratic  opinions;  I  have  talked  of  religion  when  I  have  been 
provoked  to  it,  with  my  scepticism  and  incredulity;  I  have  talked  of  all 
things,  in  short,  according  to  the  truth  of  my  heart,  and  the  errors  of  my 
judgment.  I  had  the  happiness  to  please  all  that  I  met  of  those  people 
whose  distinction  made  me  desire  their  esteem  and  good  will. 


360  Jacquemonf§  Journey  in  India. 

"Now  in  the  desert,  I  caanot  recal  those  days  wkhout  emotion* 
Whatever  may  happen  to  me  in  this  country,  there  are  men  in  it  In  whose 
friendship  T  am  sure  not  to  die;  it  follows  and  protects  me  powerfully  in 
my  long  pilgrimage.  The  major-general  of  the  army,  a  man  from  whom 
I  parted  with  a  swelling  heart  and  tearful  eye,  and  who  felt  for  me  the 
same  sympathy  which  drew  me  towards  him,  has  given  me  numerous 
letters  of  introduction  (twenty-four)  for  such  of  his  friends  or  brother 
officers  as  may  be  stationed  on  my  proposed  route.  Every  one  at  Cal- 
cutta contributed  to  increase  my  packet :  Lord  W.  Bentinck  made  the 
magnificent  addition  to  it  of  nine  private  letters.  He  gave  me  before- 
hand  a  passport  in  an  unusual  form,  but  so  protecting,  so  friendly,  that 
it  undoubtedly  rendered  his  personal  recommendations  useless,  and  I  ex- 
perience considerable  embarrassment  in  showing  it :  for  it  is  a  formal 
summons  made  by  the  Governor-General,  to  all  officers  in  India,  civil  and 
military,  to  afford  me  the  best  quarters  on  my  arrival  at  their  residence. 
They  would  not  have  done  as  much  for  any  Englishman.  It  was  the 
sime  in  London.  There  is  certainly  some  national  pride  in  this  pnvfa* 
sion  of  kindness  to  a  foreigner,  but  it  is  of  a  noble  kind;  I  enjoy  it  as  an 
individual  and  a  Frenchman." — ^vol.  i.pp.  175, 176* 

Who  would  not  be  a  traveller  in  the  remotest  parts?  This  is 
part  of  a  letter  to  the  naturalist's  father  : — 

'*  Delhi !  Delhi  is  the  most  hospitable  part  of  India.  Do  you  know 
what  had  well  nigh  happened  to  me  this  morning  ?  I  was  near  being 
made  the  light  of  the  toorld,  or  the  wisdom  of  the  state^  or  the  omtumeui 
of  the  oou/ntry,  &c. ;  but  fortunately  I  got  off  with  the  fear  only.  The 
explanation  is  as  follows :  you  will  laugh.  The  Great  Mogul,  Sfaak 
Mohammed  Acbar  Rhize  Badshah,  to  whom  the  political  resident  kwl 
addressed  a  petition  to  present  me  to  his  majesty,  very  graciously  heM  a 
durbar  (a  court)  in  order  to  receive  me.  Being  conducted  to  ^e  mr 
dience  by  the  resident,  with  tolerable  pomp,  a  regiment  of  infantry,  a  strong 
escort  of  cavalry,  an  army  of  domestics  and  ushers,  the  whole  completed 
by  a  troop  of  richly  caparisoned  elephants,  I  presented  my  respects  to  tike 
emperor,  who  was  pleased  to  confer  on  me  a  khek^  or  dress  of  honour, 
which  was  put  on  with  great  ceremony,  under  the  inspection  of  the  prime 
minister;  'and,  accoutred  like  Taddeo  in  Kaimakan,  (if  you  recoU^t  the 
Italiana  in  Algieri,)  1  re-appe&red  at  court.  The  emperor  then  (naaric, 
if  you  please,  that  he  is  descended  in  a  direct  line  from  Timoar  or 
Tamerlane)  with  his  imperial  hands  fastened  a  couple  of  jewelled  omar 
ments  to  my  hat  (a  white  one),  previously  disguised  into  a  turban  by  fais 
vizier ;  I  kept  my  countenance  excellently  well  during  this  imperial  fiuc«, 
seeing  there  was  no  looking-glasses  in  the  throne  room,  and  that  I  oouid 
only  see  in  my  masquerade  my  long  legs  in  black  pantaloons  appearing^ 
from  under  my  Turkish  dressing-gown.  The  emperor  inquired  if  there 
was  a  king  in  France,  and  if  English  was  spoken  there.  He  had  never 
seen  a  Frenchman,  except  General  Perron,  formerly  his  guard,  when  he 
was  made  prisoner  by  the  Mahrattas ;  and  he  appeared  to  pay  infieife 
attention  to  the  droll  figure  I  cut,  with  my  five  feet  eight  inches  of  sta- 
ture without  much  thickness,  my  long  hair,  spectacles,  and  my  oriental 
costume  over  my  black  dress.  In  half  an  hour  he  dismissed  his  oourt, 
and  I  retired  in  procession  with  the  resident.  The  drums  beat  ki  tlie 
fields,  as  I  passed  before  the  troops  with  my  dressing-gown  of  worked 


Jacquemont'i  Jwamey  hi  India,  361 

nuBliii.    Why  were  you  not  present  to  enjoy  the  honours  conferred  upon 
your  progeny  ? 

"  Of  course  I  found  Shah  Mohammed  Acbar  Rhize  Badshah,  a  vener- 
able old  man,  and  the  most  adorable  of  princes.  But,  jesting  apart,  he 
has  a.  fine  face,  a  fine  white  beard,  and  the  expression  of  a  man  who  has 
been  long  unhappy.  The  English  have  left  him  all  the  honours  of  the 
throne,  and  console  him  with  an  annual  pension  of  four  million  francs 
for  the  loss  of  power.  Do  not  tell  this  to  my  friends,  the  local  character 
gentry,  and  you  will  see  them  discover  at  the  carnival  in  1833  or  34, 
that  my  oriental  disguise  is  very  badly  imitated ;  then  I  will  tell  them 
what  their  so-called  badly  imitated  dress  really  is.  The  resident  trans- 
lated Victor  Jacquemont,  travelling  naturalist,  &c.,  &c..  Mister  Jakmonty 
saheb  Bahadur;  which  signifies,  M.  Jacquemont,  lord  victorious  in  war: 
it  was  thus  the  grand  master  of  the  ceremonies  proclaimed  me." — vol. )» 
pp,  189—191. 

Our  Lord  victorious  in  fVar,  resumes  his  perambulatory  life  in 
the  country  of  the  Sekhs.  We  take  faim  up  when  he  comes  to 
6peak  of  that  queer  and  cunning  old  fellow  Runjeet-Sing : — 

**>  This  latter  disciplines  his  little  army  in  the  European  fashion,  and 
almost  all  his  officers  are  Frenchmen.  Their  chief  is  one  M.  Allard,  of 
whom  a  great  deal  of  good  is  said  on  this  side  the  Sutledge.  A  month 
ago,  three  young  French  officers,  one  of  whom  is  a  younger  brother  of 
M.  Allard,  passed  through  this  place  on  their  way  from  Calcutta  to  enter 
Runjeet-Sing's  service.  Not  only  did  the  local  government  allow  them 
free  passage,  but  they  also  received  many  attentions  on  their  long  jour- 
ney. Lord  William  JBentinCk  regrets  that  the  Russians  were  blockheads 
enough  not  to  take  Constantinople ;  and,  though  they  were  to  occupy 
the  whole  of  the  Turkish  empire,  he  would  not  feel  himself  in  less  secu- 
rity at  Calcutta,  or  even  at  Delhi  or  Semla^  then  he  does  at  present. 

**  In  order  to  maintain  his  little  army  (from  thirty  to  forty  thousand 
men)  on  an  European  footing,  Runjeet-Sing  is  obliged  to  grind  his 
eountry  with  imposts,  which  are  ruining  it.  Several  of  his  provinces 
are  calling  for  the  English ;  and  I  do  not  doubt  that  some  day  or  other 
(bntroDt  for  some  years)  the  Company  will  extend  the  limits  of  its  em- 
pire from  the  Sutledge  to  the  Indus.  It  is  not  a  hundred  years  since 
the  Puifjab  was  dismembered  from  it,  after  the  invasion  of  Nadir  Shah, 
and  it  naturally  forms  a  part  of  it :  the  religion  is  nearly  the  same,  the 
language  also  scarcely  differs;  and  the  course  of  the  seasons  is  the  same. 
But  the  EInglish  will  make  this  conquest  only  at  the  last  extremity.  All 
that  they  ikve  added  to  their  territory  for  the  last  fifty  years  beyond 
Bengal  and  Bahar,  beyond  the  empire  which  Colonel  Clive  had  formed, 
has  only  diminished  their  revenues.  Not  one  of  the  acquired  provinces 
pays  the  expenses  of  its  government  and  military  occupation.  The 
Madras  presidency,  taken  in  the  lump,  is  annually  deficient;  Bombay  is 
still  further  from  covering  its  expenses.  Tt  is  the  revenue  of  Bengal  and 
Bahar.  principally  of  the  former,  which,  after  making  up  the  deficiency 
ol  the  north-west  provinces,  recently  annexed  to  the  presidency  of  Cal- 
cutta, Bundlecund,  Agra,  Delhi,  &c.,  sets  the  finances  of  the  two  se- 
condary states  afloat.  In  France,  we  consider  a  hypocritical  farce  the 
excuse  of  neoesnty  alleged  by  the  English  for  the  prodigious  aggrandise- 
jaent  of  their  Asiatic  dominions :  nothing,  however,  is  more  true ;  and 


3f9;  JqfiqMerm»t*g  Jourtttf  m  Ind^. 

certainly  no  £or<^an  Opvenunent  waa  eve*  mora  fidthfiil  to  ifr  eagagv* 

ments  than  that  of  the  Company." — ^roL  i.  pp.  232,  233. 

.  This  re£erence  to  the  English  sway^  leads  us  to  extract  m  fitfle 
more  of  what  he  elsewhere  says  as  to  its  continuance : 

"  Supposing,  what  will  not  take  place,  that  the  direct  government  of, 
the  king  should  succeed  that  of  the  Company  in  India,  this  change  would 
not  cause  the  slightest  shock  in  Asia.     Our  father  appears  to  be' uneasy 
about  the  attitude  of  Mahrattas  and  Afghans,  &c.  &c.  (and  other  ca- 
naille who  are  not  worth  a  kick ^),  in  this  crisis,    Let  him  know, 

then,  that  the  sixty  millions  of  Indiaus  about  whom  he  was  so  much 
alarmed,  are  ignorant  of  the  difference  between  the  king  of  VaiaXte 
(Europe  altogether,  England,  America,  &c.  &c.,  for  they  are  no  geogra- 
phers) and  the  Company.  This  subtle  distinction  is  understood  only, 
and  but  indifferently  too,  by  the  superior  (mercantile)  classes  at  Calcutta, 
Madras,  and  Bombay.  But  the  peasant  who  ploughs,  the  mechanic  who 
works,  and  the  seapoy  who  mounts  guard,  have  not  the  slightest  idea 
of'  it.  The  ideas  entertained  in  France  about  this  country  are  absurd. 
The  governing  talents  (St.  Simon  and  his  crew  of  the  Produeteur  have 
no  doubt  manufactured  a  better  word  to  express  this  idea)  of  the  English 
are  immense ;  ours,  on  the  contrary,  are  very  mediocre ;  and  we  beheve 
the  former  to  be  embarrassed  when  we  see  them  in  circumstances  in 
which  our  awkwardness  would  be  completely  at  a  stand  still.  Our  father 
also  regrets  that  I  have  not  brought  with  me  all  the  papers,  which  might 
assist  in  verifying  my  character  as  a  Frenchman ;  as  if  it  was  by  papers, 
truly,  that  it  could  be  proved  to  people  among  whom,  in  bis  idea,  it  might 
be  useful  to  me  I  as  if  they  could  re^d  the  Homan  letters  1  as  if  they  un- 
derstood a  single  word  of  a  single  European  language  1  Let  him  take 
courage ;  he  may  live  till  he  i&  a  hundred  before  he  learns  that  a  general 
massacre  of  the  English  has  taken  place  in  India.  The  cold  redpvbles, 
my  dear  Porphyre,  and  I  should  never  get  warm  in  bed  if  I  delated  any 
longer  getting  into  it.    1  embrace  you.* —vol.  i,  p.  269,  270. 

After  traversing  some  of  the  highest  of  the  Hin^alaya  Moim* 
tains,  and  carrying  his  researches  twice  into  the  Chineee  temtozy» 
be  returned  to  Delhi  and  from  thence  proceeded  te  Lahore,  wheM, 
contrary  to  his  first  expectations^  IUmjeet*Sing  greatly  enki^f^ 
his  finances.  We  must  take  leave  of  the  first  vefome^  with  long 
extracts  respecting  the  old  fox  : — 

"  I  have  several  times  spent  a  couple  of  hours  in  conversing  witji 
Runjeet  *  de  omni  re  scribiii  et  qvihusdam  aiUs.*  His  conversation  is 
like  a  nightmare.  He  is  almost  the  first  inquisitive  Indian  I  have  seen; 
and  his  curiosity  balances  the  apathy  of  the  whole  of  his  nation.  He  has 
asked  a  hundred  thousand  questions  to  me,  about  India,  the  British^ 
Europe,  Bonaparte,  this  world  in  general  and  the  next,  hell,  paradise,  the 
soul,  God,  the  devil,  and  a  myriad  of  others  of  the  same  kind.  He  is  like  ^ 
people  of  rank  in  the  East,  an  imaginary  invalid ;  and  as  he  has  a  numa» 
rous  collection  oT  the  greatest  beauties  of  Cashmere,  and  the  means  of 
paying  for  a  better  dinner  than  any  one  else  in  this  country,  he  is  gene- 
rally annoyed  that  he  cannot  drink  like  a  fish  without  being  drunk,  or  eat 
like  an  elephant  and  escape  a  surfeit.  Women  now  please  him  no  more 
than  the  flowers  of  hw  parterre,  and  for  a  good  reason — and  this  is  the 


Gni»ibiil<tfb»«AifitMM.  H»b«d1ji9deMB6y  tacttttlwfaiietiaiiwlliok 
b^  complains  of  being  weak,  #  dige^tiTe  one.  But  I  knew  wkit  tilomaoA 
m^i^t  at  Lahpre,  when  in  the  king!^  mouth ;  and  we  contBraed  misately 
a£out  his  complaipt,  but  the  words  were  well  wsap|Md  up  on  either  skie** 
To  prqye  how  m^ich  reason  he  had  to  cop^daio,  the  old  rau^,  the  dajr  be* 
fore  yesterday,  in  full  court,  that  is  in  the  open  6eld«  on  a  fine  Persian 
carpet,  on  which  wq  wqr^  seated,  surrounded  by  some  thousands  ot 
soldiers^  sent  for  five  youo^g  girls  of  his  seraglio,  whom  he  made  to  sit 
down  before  me,  and  concerning  whom  he  smilingly  asked  my  opinion. 
I  had  the  candour  to  say  that  I  thought  them  yery  pretty,  which  was  not 
a  tenth  part  of  what  I  thought  of  them.  He  made  them  sing,  mezxa 
vpee^  a  little  Seikh  air,  which  their  pretty  faces  made  me  think  agreeable; 
and  to)d  me  that  he  had  a  whole  regiment  of  them,  whom  sometimes  ha 
ordered  to  mount  on  horseback  for  his  amusement ;  and  he  promi^  to- 
afford  me  an  opportunity  of  seeing  them." — ^vol.  i,  pp.  895— r397* 

**  To-day  I  had  my  audience  of  leare  of  Runjeet-aing,  to  which  I  was 
conducted  by  M.  AUard.  I  spent,  for  the  last  time,  a  coupb  of  hours  in 
conversing  with  that  extraordinary  man.  He  gave  me  the  khelat  or  dress 
of  honour,  and  that  too  of  the  most  distingruished  kind :  it  cost  five  thou- 
sand rupees,  or  twelve  thousand  francs.  .It  consists  of  a  pair  of  magni* 
ficent  Cashmere  shawl8«  K^  dp  vin ;  two  other  less  beautiful  Cashmere 
shawls,  and  seven  pieces  of  silk  stuff  or  muslin,  the  latter  of  extrsondi* 
nary  beauty :  eleven  articles  in  all,  which  number  is  the  most  honourabla. 
Add  to  this,  an  ornamei^t,  according  to  the  fashion  of  the  oountry,  q£ 
Imdly-cut  precious  stones. 

'  *'  And,  in  addition  to  the  value  of  this  present,  a  purse  p£  eleven  hun- 
dred rupees ;  which,  together  wi^h  the  sums  before  received,  make  twa 
thousand  four  hundred,  which,  is  more  than  a  year'f  salary  fnom  tin 
Jardin. 

'*  Nor  IB  this  all.  The  king  is  going  to  give  me  some  people  to  take 
care  of  me ;  horse  and  foot  soldiers  to  watch  over  my  safety;  ope  pf  his 
secretaries,  in  order  that  I  may  send  letters  to  him  occasionally ;  camels 
to  carry  my  tents  and  all  my  baggage  to  the  foot  of  \he  mountains  ^  and^ 
lastly,  earners  to  do  It,  when  the  beasts  of  burthen  can  advance  no 
furthes.  Lastly— -*€or  there  will  be  Iti^tfys  tilV  to^morrow,-^-^t  the  salt 
Bsines,  where  I  shall  arrive  in  ten  days^  I  shaU  receive  a  purse  of  five 
hundred  rupees,  and  at  Oashmere,  one  of  two  thousand. 

*'  Lastly,  to  conclude;  if  any  thing  takes  my  fimoy  at  Cariimere,  (ke 
king  has  recomn^ended  m^  tfi  inform  him  of  it^  in.  arobr  that  he  may  s»* 
tisfy  my  desire."— vol.  i,  pp.  403, 404. 

YicU^  JaequemoKit  is  fit  a  loss  to  understand  why  it  is  that  every 
MisQi^  he  has  xn»t  with>  be  he  Engliah  oar  Asiatie,  is  partial  and 
%md  to  him.  And  yet  it  does  not  seem  that  he  ever  l^d  aside  hia 
natural  manners  or  established  cnpinions.  Indeed  this  most  account 
iff  the  universal  esteem  in  which  he  was  held.  He  thus  writes  to 
1^  friend  in  Paris  from  the  banks  of  the  Hydaspes^  on  his  appt^oach 
to  Ca^hmeie:-— 

^  How  manV  tlungs  I  have  to  tell  you,  my  dear  friend :  first,  about  my- 
self— pfuKD  9»AJ,*— then  about  your  own  people,  whose  heroism,  patriotism, 
and  immortal  glory  the  English  papers  and  the  Qm^iittUiotmel  have  related 
to  me.    The  month  of  July*  1830,  has  completely  relieted  ns  from  the 


contemptible  thamelbex  wUfh  ovr  vMoa-^  grmde  HAli^-HMiBTapiftf 
awiiming  in  the  eyes  of  others.  It  is  verf  fortunate  for  me  that  I  em 
among  the  Sheiks  and  the  Afghans,  for  if  I  had  remained  longer  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Sutledge,  where  they  reign,  the  English  would  have  sur- 
feited me  with  dinners.  1  was,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  prodigiously  in 
fashion  amongst  them,  hefore  the  great  amende  honorable  of  the  28th  of 
July,  but  since  then  I  have  been  quite  the  rage ;  and  I  was  the  only  animul 
of  my  species — ^that  is  to  say,  ^e  only  FVench  gentleman  whom  diey 
could  get  hold  of;  I  was  bound  to  pay  for  the  whole  nation,  of . which  I 
was  the  sole  representative.  I  was  obliged  to  eat  like  an  ogre,  drink  like 
a  fish,  talk  like  an  advocate,  and  make  speeches,  in  season,  out  of  eeasoo, 
and  in  all  seasons: — Gentlemen,  the  deep  emotion  which  I  feel,  &c.  &c. ; 
then  comes,  the  inadequacy  of  your  very  humble  servant  to  do  Justice  to  snek 
an  eloquent,  &e»  &c. — ^But,  thank  God,  as  I  have  not  an  alderman'^  stomach, 
1  am  released,  till  my  return  to  Semla,  in  six  months,  where  I  shall  begin 
again,  with  renewed  vigour.  In  the  meantime,  I  am  picking  up  plants 
and  stones  in  the  Pentrapotamis — ^which  appears  to  me  infinitely  mote 
classical  than  the  Punjab — and  am  going  to  Cashmere,  where  I  shall  spend 
the  whole  summer  in  these  innocent  occupations.  Runjeet-Sing,  the  king 
of  Lahore,  has  had  the  good  sense  to  fall  in  love  with  me,  on  honourable 
terms,  however — a  circumstance'  to  be  remarked ;  for  when  these  Seikh 
gentlemen  are  in  love,  it  is  in  general  not  in  a  very  virtuous  manner.  He 
proclaims  me  the  wisest  of  feringhee  lords — a  demi-god  :  he  overwhelms 
me  with  the  most  flattering  attentions — Burrouods  me  during  my  journey 
with  the  most  complete  protection — ^provides  for  all  my  wants,  camds, 
mules,  carriers,  bresJcfasts,  dinners — and,  not  satisfied  with  this,  he  some- 
times sends  me  monstrous  bags  of  money,  which  is  considered  in  this  coun- 
try as  the  greatest  politeness." — ^vol.  ii.  pp.  14,  15. 

He  had  at  this  time  a  long  beard — a  red  one;  but  in  other  re- 
spects he  retained  the  European  dress.  The  dogs,  however,  barked 
at  him,  and  the  children  paid  him  back,  with  interest,  the  vftxatiflp 
which  he  inflicted  some  twenty  years  ago  on  the  poor  Tuirks  who 
happened  to  come  to  Paris.  Nevertheless,  he  moved  about  with 
an  atmosphere  of  servants  and  horsemen,  who  preserved  him  fiNim 
very  troublesome  annoyances.  He  must  have  laboured  ineesaandy 
at  one  thing  or  another;  for  he  goes  on,  for  instance,  to  say  of  one 
day,  that  he  had  written  fifty-four  pages,  afiber  galloping  three'koars 
to  get  through  a  stage,  and  had  still  a  long  evening  left«  He 
begins,  however,  to  enoonnter  many  obstacles- and  vexations.  Not 
only  is  the  weather,  the  climate,  and  the  nature  of  the  eountry 
against  him,  but  the  fkrtiier  he  goes  from  Eoropean  influenoe,  after 
leaving  the  parts  immediately  under  the  dominion  of  Uunjeet-Sing, 
then  want  of  attention  to  his  necessities,  of  respect  and  protection, 
increases,  and  this  too  by  a  rapidly  ascending  ratio.  He  falls  into 
the  hands  of  a  large  body  of  banditti,  but  extricates  himself  with 
marvellous  presence  of  mind  and  coolness.  And  then  he  boldly 
dedares,  tliat  *^  one  must  have  travelled  in  the  Punjab  to  know  what 
an  immense  baiefit  the  English  dominion  in  India  is,  and  what 
miseries  it  spares  eighty  millions  of  souls.*'  As  soon  as  he  arrived 
at  Cashmere,  prosperity  agam  shonie  upon  him,  through  his 


Seent  fn^dhRunjeet-Sin^,  though  he  (kclkres  HlM  tibe  coantry  is 
B  land  of  beggarsi  Bcoundrels,  and  bandits;  nothing  being  so  com* 
mon  as  ibr  them  to  kill  a  man  in  order  to  rob  him  of  an  old  pair  of 
breeches. 

.  "  The  day  I  airived  here,  the  Sth,  the  goyenor  sent  me  as  a  nuzzer,  ten 
sbeci]]^  forty  fowls*  two  hundred  eggs,  several  sacks  of  barley,  rice,  flour, 
sugar*  some  native  brandy  distillea  from  the  wise  which  they  make,  and 
which  resembles  a  mixture  of  bad  anhette  and  bad  kirschen-wasser,  &c. 
AU  tius  I  distributed  to  my  suite ;  but  the  Idag  has  just  sent  a  new  order*  that 
my  table  is  to  be  constantly  provided  at  his  expense*  a  favour  which  I 
only  act  upon  for  form's  sake,  but  which  is  essential  for  'form*s  sake.  I 
should  almost  fore  well  had  I  but  bread  and  wine ;  but  my  old  Semla  port* 
so  mnch  admired  by  the  English,  is  stronger  than  brandy,  and  I  keep  it 
for  cold  and  rainy  days*  in  the  mountains.  I  am  very  well ;  the  colour  of 
my  hands  disagrees  with  that  of  my  arms,  but  I  look  well.  At  Delhi,  I  al- 
lowed myself  the  luxury  of  a  looking-glass,  and  I  look  at  myself  every 
month.     Nevertheless  I  am  frightfully  thin. 

"  Know  that  I  have  never  seen  any  where  such  hideous  witches  as  In 
Cashmere.  The  female  race  is  remarkably  ugly.  I  speak  of  women  of  the 
common  ranks — those  one  sees  in  the  streets  and  fields— since  those  of  a 
more  elevated  station  pass  all  their  lives  shut  up,  and  are  never  seen.  It 
is  true  that  all  little  girls  who  promise  to  turn  out  pretty,  are  sold  at  eight 
years  of  age,  and  carried  off  into  the  Punjab  and  India.  Their  parents 
sell  them  at  from  twenty  to  three  hundred  franks — ^most  commonly  fifty 
or  sixty.  All  female  servants  in  the  Punjab  are  slaves ;  and,  in  spite  of 
the  exertions  of  the  English  to  abolish  the  custom,  it  nevertheless  prevails 
also  in  the  north  of  India.  They  are  treated  tolerably  well*  and  their  con* 
dition  is  hardly  worse  than  that  of  their  mistresses  -]n  the  harem.  The 
wives  of  the  old  king  of  Cabul,  whom  I  saw  at  Loodteana,  Shah  Shoadjah 
iel  Molauk,  are  driven  with  great  kicks  by  their  guardian  eonuchs  :  their 
servants  are  certainly  less  ill-used. 

^    "Every  day,  innamerable  bands  of  girls  present  themselves  at  my  gar- 
den gate.    An  Asiatic  nobleman  in  my  place  would  always  have  haty  of 
them  sin^ng  and  dancing  around  him ;  but  I  preserve  my  European  char* 
•cter  entire  in  my  manners  as  in  my  costume ;  it  inspires  respect.*' — vol* 
iL  pp«  64,  65,  66, 

Alter  allowing  oar  traveller  another  opportunity  to  speak  in  our 
Journal,  from  Cashmere,  we  must  make  very  summary  work  with 
the  remainder  of  these  letters,  even  although  they  may  increase  in 
point  of  value.  The  following  extract  commences  with  a  reference 
to  the  bandit  into  whose  hands  he  fell  on  his  approach  to  Cashmere. 

*'  It  was  very  lucky  for  me  that  I  met  a  scoundrel  bold  enough  to  stop  me 
mid  extort  money  from  me.  The  prompt  example  which  Runjeet  has 
made  d  this  bandit,  who  was  no  less  than  governor  of  a  royal  fortress,  has 
|»^uced  a  most  useful  moral  effect  for  my  safety  in  this  oountry.  Every 
one  now  perceives  the  danger  of  an  unbridled«passion  for  my  rupees. 
Tbare-were  tiiree  hundred  in  my  box  when  I  left  Loodheeana ;  and  now  I 
have  five  thousand.  I  boast  of  this  as  I  should  of  playing  a  game  at  chess 
fweU,  and  winoing  it,  on  account  of  the  difficulty  overcome.  There  was  a 
great,  an  immense  one,  I  assure  you,  in  my  not  being  nailed* »»  it  were. 


968  Jiiciumota*^  Jmmn  m  /hi^ 

to  tii^  shores  of  farfia.  wlient  tM  i^es^d  m  wl4A  \  nme  taiid|fed  me.  f 
soneCioues  iieft^ct  i^tl»  real  plcwiure  on  the  wisdom  and  prudeiife  pf  mj 
isoipsa^ncepi^t.  \  began  ifipd^tly  with  having  only  one  aerviint ;  tiieii 
two ;  then  a  palanquin ;  tiien  six  other  valets,  and  a  horse.  I  set  out  from 
Calcutta  with  a  single  bad  tent;  no  chair  nor  table;  and  by  degrees  t 
have  increased  my  household  up  to  forty  s^rva^ts,  (without  menttoniDg 
my  thirty  rowers,)  three  tents,  two  horses,  and  i^  Ae  rest  in  propmftkm. 
And  yet  there  is  as  much  prudence  in  my  aetaal  establishment,  and  tfae 
same  proportion  bet\veen  whfit  I  have  and'  what  I  ought  to  have,  as  there 
was  in  my  wret;ched  outfit  between  Calcutta  and  Benares.  When  I  return 
to  India,  whether  f  enter  it  by  Loodfaeeana  or  descend  the  mountains  from 
Semla,  what  a  difference  between  the  reception  whiph  awaits  me  tlier^  and 
tihe  profound  solitude  of  my  situation  at  the  commencemeiitof  my  JQumeyt 
There  is  now  oi^  the  other  si4e  of  the  Sutledge  an  enormous  mass  of  loBd- 
ness,  which  even  in  my  absence  exhibits  itself  in  a  thousand  ingentous 
ways.  This  flatters  n^e  much,  I  will  confess ;  for,  bei|ig  neither  a  duke 
nor  a  millionnaire,  and  falling  as  it  ^ere  from  the  o|oud9  among  the  people 
who  at  present  show  this  extreme  consideration  and  tru^y  friendly  kind- 
ness towards  me,  I  owe  it  all  to  myself — I  am  the  re^  arphitept  of  my  for- 
tunes ;  I  do  not  allude  to  the  five  thousand  rupees  in  my  stipng  box,  but 
to  thfi  hoi^purable  reputation  I  enjoy  with  everyone." — ^vol.  Ji.  pp.  78,  ^4. 

Jaoquemont  carried  l^is  researches  into  the  desert  n^ouijtain^ 
which  divide  Ca^hmeire  prpm  "f  iheti  and  after  many  nfiuding^  ao^ 
divergences  retmn^dagwi  tp  Delhi*  His  joy  w^  great  on  ^ding 
hims^  once  mpre  amcHig  the  British;  aaa  it  wft«  m^festly  h4» 
desive  as  weQ  as  bis  opinion,  which  he  strongly  expressea^  thai  Bri- 
tish power  might  n^ver  perish  in  India.  Of  physical  streng^^  ha 
says,  they  wiU  always  have  more  than  can  be  brought  against  them^ 
on  the  Sutledge  or  on  the  Indos,  but  that  their  material  force  is  at 
present  moral.  With  regret  we  must  hasteij  to  a  clc^e  of  this  artide, 
without  {Attempting  any  thing  like  a  notice  of  the  various  topics  or' 
nlaceq  which  our  traveller  ix)uches  in  the  course  of  the  latter  part  ojf 
his  jppiiiey.  J^ut  who  ^oea  nqt  ]ament  the  premature  death  of  on^ 
whp  so  playfully  and  confidingly  penned  what  we  now  ^^«^|t 
luldressed  to  ahrother? 

**  ph  t  how  delightfi4  will  it  be  to  find  ourselves  together  ag^  afiter 
fso  many  years  of  absence,  an4  ^  nie  of  solitude.  What  a  delight  to  dioe 
fj^  ^hree,  or  rather  all  four  of  us,  at  our  small  round  table,  with  lights ;  tq 
e§it  spup  ^i;d  drinic  French  red  wine,  and  to  rise  from  table  only  tc|  go  into 
your  room  pr  py  father's,  leaving  the  others  to  seek  t^eir  pleasure  out  ol 
the  house,  and  we  remaining  in  ours  to  relate  our  mutual  adventures  during 
our  separation !  I  shall  have  dined  alone  and  drunk  wa|ex  fefc  atich  a 
length  of  time  !  What  a  pleasure  to  live  in  a  house  afl^r  so.  vavy  yeam 
spent  in  the  open  air,  or  under  a  light  canviss  tent,  admittng  t|^'iid9»  tter 
wind,  and  the  burning  sun-beams!  What  a  happiae^^to  sleep sifisii.a 
mattress !  A  tear  starts  into  my  eye  as  I  think  of  all  those  joys.  !£  I  jgek 
collect  right,  my  dear  friend,  the  last  tine  we  embcateed  wk  ofefaar  irc 
shed  no  tears,  and  it  wajs  all  the  better  that  we  did  npt ;  but  the  naxt  tiiM 
we  have  liiat  happiness,  we  will  allow  natuw  to  TtiiMb^  b^  sway ;  die  easr 
procure  ^s  nottnog  but  enjoy  meat.  And  my  father,  bow  happy  he  will  be  I 


dperially  if  ti^  Ar<i  «ill  tfii^fe  wftlf  Mm.  tVhftt artont  I  riioll  ImH  msBHii 
hcmdan,  PbSktdk^^n,  tl«yfi«  I  have  s^ti  more  of  AofiAc^  than  Frederioi 
who  searcely  qaitted  New  York  daring  the  two  yean  he  spent  in  the 
United  States*  The  Niagara,  a  forest  at  the  Brazil,  the  boreal  winter  of 
the  United  States,  the  peak  of  Teneriffe,  Mont  Blanc,  all  the  lakes  of  the 
41ps,  th<i.  Mediterranean,  the  table  mountain  of  the  Cape  of  Africa,  a  hur- 
ricane  at  Bourbon,  the  Ganges  at  Benares,  Delhi  and  the  GMat  Mo^,  the 
source  of  the  Jumna,  one  of  the  sources  of  the  Indus,  the  Lamas,  the  Chi- 
nese ;  in  short,  Cashmere  and  the  highest  mountains  in  the  W6rld  I  Dnrifig 
so  many  years,  a  life  so  essentially  different,  both  in  feeling  and  existence, 
to  that  vhich  f  drought  myself  born  to,  and  to  which  I  shall  return  atter 
immense  travels  by  -sea  and  land  ;  the  constant  habit  and  complete  know- 
ledge of  foreign  languages  ! — ^Heavens !  Porphyre,  when  we  are  re-united 
in  your  little  appartment,  how  extraordinary  will  all  that  a}^^ear  to  tne  ! 
I  shall  almost  doubt  my  own  identity. 

'*  Listen  to  me,  my  dear  friend  ;  you  are  getting,  old,  and  besides,  you 
honeremainedtciopo^tdtiiinkof  matrimony^  which  without  sdme  fortune  is 
hwfca  aorry  t^ng.  L,  too,  shall.bd  none  of  the  yoai^i^t  when  f  return,  and 
shfdl  mt)et  ptobiiMy  be  one  of  the  poorest ;  the  probabilities,  therefore,  are 
thiit  we  shfdi  remain  bachelors.  Well !  we  must  do  our  best  to  live  to- 
gether. In  our  old  age  we  will  take  our  walks  together,  play  our  ganie 
of  backgammon  together,  and  together  we  will  now  and  then  indulge  our- 
selves in  going  to  hecur  some  good  music.  It  would  be  milch  better  if  one 
pf  us  could  find  ^  ricH  and  cood  wife,  whd  would  beconie  the  sister  off  the 
otter.  We  shafl  see  I  Alfter  fdl,  why  sbonldit  Aot  We  so  ?  AdieU;  vAf 
^ood  brother,  ft  id  a  tnkttfer  of  course  that  thii  feoUsh'  efl^lbibtt  is'Onfy  tor' 
yourself  atid  mjr  fWber.*'— vd.  ii.  pp.  311-^ia.      . 

Who  does  not  sob  and  say,  on  reading  our  last  extract)  Ptk*' 
fellow  I     Several  months  afterwards  he  wrote  as  follows^  from  Bom- 
bay; it  was  his  last  letter,  and  also  to  his.  brother. 

**  The  c^ellest  pang,  my  dear  Porphyre,  for  those  we  love,  is;  that 
when  dying  in  a  far  distant  land,  they  imagine  that  in  the  last  hours  of 
oiir  existence  we  are  deSferted  and  unnoticfed;  My  dete' friend,  you  will 
rio  d3ti6t  reap  souie  consolatiori  from  the  ftSsurance  I  giveyou  that  I  have 
never  caiSfed  b^ng  the  dbje^t  of  the  kindest  and  most  afrectionate  solici- 
tude of  4  srumber  of  good  and  arable  men.  They  continually  come  to 
see  me»  anticipating  even  my  sick-bed  caprices  and  whims.  Mr.  Nicol  es- 
peeially*  Mr<  John  Bar,  one  of  the  members  of  the  government,  Mr.  Godd- 
fettow,  aa  old  colonel  of  enginers,  and  Major  Mountain,  a  very  amiable 
young  officer*  and  many  others  whose  names  I  do  not  mentioh. 

**  fortunately  the  illness  is  drawing  to  a  close,  which  may  not  be  fatal, 
although  it  will  probably  be  so. 

"  The  abscess,  of  abscesses,  formed  from  the  beginning  of  the  attack'  ia 
my  liver^  and  which. recently  appeared  likely  to  dissolve  by  absprptibn,  ap-. 
pear  now  to  rise  iipwards,  and  will  soon  open  outwardly.  It  is  all  I  wish 
jGor,  to  get  quickly  out  of  the  miserable  state  in  which  I  have  been  languish- 
iag  tor  tbe  last  monlh^  between  hffe  and  death.  You  s^e  that  my  ideas 
are  perfcietly  clear ;  tbey  have  been  but  very  rarely,  and  very  transiently. 
ddiifti8ed»  during  aenie  violent  paroxysms  of  pain  at  the  commencement  of 
Bf  ilfanaB*  I  have  geaietaUy  reekoned  upon  the  worst,  and  that  h^ 
iMer  rtoderM  my  thoughto  g loo»y«    My  end,  if  it  is  now  approaching,  is' 


a68  Tke  lAtirmy  Life  of  J^in  QmU. 


nitd  and  Innquli  If  yon  were  kere,  seated  at  by  bed^aUe,  wil^  107  fiHtfier 
aad  Frederic^  my  heart  woald  buvst  with.grief,  and  I  should  not  be  aUe  to 
contemplate  my  approaching  death  with  the  same  fortitude  and  serenity^- 
oonaole  youraelf— console  my  father— console  yourselves  mutually,  my 
dear  friends. 

"  I  feel  quite  exhausted  by  this  effort  to  write,  and  must  bid  yon  adieu  I 
Farewell  I  oh  how  much  you  are  all  beloved  by  youf  poor  Victor  I  Fare- 
well for  the  last  time  I  \      "^ 

"  Stretched  out  upon  my  back,  I  can  only  write  widi  a  pencil.  For 
fear  that  these  lines  may  be  effaced,  the  excellent  Mr.  Nicol  will  copy 
this  letter  in  writing,  in  order  that  I  may  be  sure  you  will  read  my  last 

^     *  "Victor  Jacqubmont/* 

"  I  have  been  able  to  sign  what  the  Admirable  Mr.  Nicol  has  had  the 
kindness  to  copy.  Once  more,  farewell,  my  friends !"— voL  iL  pp.  356 
—868. 

And  thus  it  is  with  mortal  man:  his  life  is  but  as  a  yapoar:  and 
the  place  which  he  once  knew  knows  him  no  more  for  ever.  There 
can  be  no  occasion  to  say  a  word,  after  these  abundaat  extracts, 
either  of  their  author  or  of  the  interest  they  necessarily  create.  It 
has  been  with  much  delight  and  entertainment  that  we  have  peraaed 
them,  yet  never  without  emotion,  for  the  thought  of  his  brief 
career  came  ever  over  our  spirit.  Amongst  our  lamentations,  which 
Victor  Jaoqnemont's  eaxly  death  has  raised  within  us,  the  least  is 
not,  that  we  hsve  seen  nothing  like  the  consolations  of  reUgion 
affording  him  support,  either  m  his  arduous  researdhes,  or  at  the 
dose  of  his  intei^^iting  life. 


"v 


Abt.  Wll.— The  Literary  Life  and  Miscellanies  0/  John  Gait.    3  vols. 

small  8vo.     Edinburgh:  Blackwood;   London:  Oadell.      1B34. 

At  this  time  of  day  we  can  have  no  purpose  of  entering  into  a  cri- 
tical review  of  all  or  any  of  Mr.  Gait  s  hteraiy  works.  Neither  do 
we  wish  to  take  any  thing  like  a  detailed  or  fiifi  account  of  the  vicis- 
situdes of  his  life,  which  in  his  autobiography  have  been  laid  before 
the  public.  Our  only  purpose  is  to  make  use  of  this  opportnmty 
to  express  a  few  opinions,  rather  of  a  general  character,  not  only  as 
respects  the  subject  of  these  volumes,  but  other  men  of  active  mmds 
ana  popular  acquirements. 

Our  first  observation  is,  that  John  Gait  is  a  man  of  wondrous 
activity.  Nothing  more  is  necessary  to  prove  this,  than  to  mention 
what  his  age  is  (fifty-five),  and  the  number  and  the  variety  of  his 
literary  works,  which,  according  to  the  long  list  given,  and,  indeed,' 
according  to  our  own  recollections,  may  be  in  round  numbers  esti- 
mated at  a  hundred  volumes.  Just  think  of  one  man's  pen  fifling 
an  acre  or  so  of  paper,  were  it  with  nothing  but  copying  lawvers' 
briefs  I  We  used  to  marvel  much  in  our  young  days  at  the  sight  of. 
some  dozen  of  huge  folio  volumes  which  the  fathers  of  the  church,  or 
the  scholastic  divines  of  former  centuries,  frequently  filled,  and  ooiold 


fiOM0^«Eiedit  tliftt  onie  fmaU  head  ecwdd  iield  8o  much.  But  afior 
John  ualt,  Walter  Soott,  Rohert  Simthey,  and  John  WiIbchi,  none 
need  open  his  month  in  astonishment  even  at  what  the  longest-lived 
and  dradging  monk  has  done,  who  had  nothing  else  to  do  bnt  to 
live  and  to  write;  for  these^  while  but  middle-aged  men  and  active 
citizens  of  the  worlds  have  accomplished  far  more. 

The  truth  is,  there  are  minds  the  more  they  do  the  more  they 
can  do;  or  it  may  be  put  thus — ^there  are  men  whose  genius  may  be 
characterized  as  that  of  miraculous  activity,  and  who  must  die  if 
they  are  not  allowed  scope.  Allowed  scope?- — ridiculous!  They  , 
create  scope,  opportunity,  and  materials,  and  there  they  work. 
Such  persons  generally  are  celebrated  rather  for  the  variety  of 
work  which  they  do  weU»  than  for  the  magnitude,  the  qplendcnr,  and 
originality  of  any  one  thing.  And  indeed,  to  expect  to  the  con- 
trary would  be  to  look  for  impossibilities  and  contradictions.  Lord 
KroQgham,  for  instance,  is  one  of  the  greatest  and  most  various 
workers  that  England  ever  possessed;  and  though  not  the  first  in 
any  one  department,  he  is  dose  upon  the  heels  €£  the  martefs. 
And  in  other  fields  John  Gait  occupies  a  similar  position;  for  whe- 
ther we  measure  the  number  or  variety  of  his  works,  or  count  die 
number  of  his  years,  he  deserves  and  has  gained  a  great  and  laaling 
name. 

This  leads  ns  to  observe  next,  that  a  man's  age  is  Bot  to  be 
estimated  by  the  number  of  years  he  has  spent  on  earth,  but  by  the 
amount  of  l^e  that  there  has  been  in  those  years.  It  is  a  safer  and 
truer  standard,  to  take  the  doings  rather  than  the  days.  It  is  said 
of  some  that  they  live  every  hour  of  their  years;  of  others,  that  they 
only  vegetate.  John  Gait  belongs  to  the  former  class,  and  even 
after  infirmity  has  laid  prostrate  many  of  his  bodily  powers,  his 
spirit  is  unquenched  ana  restless.  We  remember  when  last  we 
saw  him,  which  is  years  ago^  to  have  said  he  was  old;  we  meant 
not  in  years.  There  was  care,  and  long-intensely  bent  thought  upon 
his  visage;  his  gait,  the  manner  in  which  his  hand  grasped  itself,  as 
be  drove  along  the  pavement,  was  every  thing  but  the  ways  of  a 
reposing  man:  and  though  we  have  only  hesM  of  him  of  late,  the 
work  before  us  is  proof  sufficient,  that  at  least  his  is  not  even  now 
a  recumbent  or  listless  mind. 

The  unprofitable,  and  firequently  disastous  consequences  of  a 
literary  Jife,  is  an  old  topic  for  trite  remark.  This  worn-out  sort  of 
sagacity  may  be  said  to  prove  its  truth  by  the  very  age  and  univer- 
sality of  its  use.  The  irritability^  of  Uterary  genius  is  also  an  old 
subject  for  sage  remark,  as  also  is  the  comforting  doctrine  which 
teaches,  that  he  who  is  sensitively  alive  to  pain  and  disappointment, 
is  equally  so  to  pleasure  and  fame.  We  mean  not  to  oppose  or 
farther  touch  these  established  pieces  of  wisdom.  But  literature 
has  not  alone  been  John  Gait's  emplovment ;  nay,  it  has  not  even  ever 
been  the  principal  subject  of  his  study,  if  we  are  to  believe  himself^ 


wfio  taoit  best  know  ili6  truth  of  £hA  amtter.  His  ^x^sftkmfti  Ite 
awviceg  m  Cfmada,  were  ndt  oill^  ^r^,  but  hftve  left  permimeat 
beni^ts;  whilst  his  dfaappomtments^  aztxiedes^  and  ill-usage  opca- 
dicMictt  by  the  treatment  of  oertain  parties  ^»>nnected  with  that 
qdtotdr  c^  the  globe^  haVe  b^en^  we  believe^  much  more  severe  and 
heart-breaking  than  what  followed  any  brace  of  his  literary  pirojects 
flcnd  wofks. 

It  is  ear  opinion,  indeed,  that  Jdin  Gait  has  obtainied  a  fiiir  And 
not  inadequate  r^ard  for  his  literary  talent  ahd  labours,  especially 
if  we  fibrm  a  sttrndfrd  out  of  the  general  teoompense  affin^ed  an* 
than  of  note  and  abiUty.  According  to  our  judgment^  he.  has  nev^ 
written  a  better  than  second-rate  bodes  t  though  we  have  ever  found, 
in  what  we  oensidered  his  worst  pieces,  ^mething  of  his  best  self, 
and  aoinetUng  whidi  earned  us  through  the  whole^  at  the  same 
timfe  leKrin^  insthietibn  fresh  and  precise  upon  our  minds;  And 
thiia  is  ^ftying  a  rrtot  deal,  when  we  consider  thd  catalogue  of  his 
writing:  Ihde^j  his  mind  is  sttch,  that  it  (mnnot  give  out  aily 
mtsg  beloii)^iiig  ho  itf  which  partakes  not  of  its  original  natnre. 
Siirong'^  and  wlwt  is  called  rough  good  dense,  is  ever  there ;  ftt- 
aUliar  but  mosi  expmsive  thoughts  find  Similar  iilastrations  inost 
l«fidily  with  him,  which  we  presume  could  net  have  been  improved 
by  long  study.  Therefore,  we  cannot  agree  with  those  who  say,  he 
bas  tcHnatei  too  madi  canVass  with  his  ploiures:  that  had  he  stu- 
cEed  nioife  alid  writtte  lesSy  we  should  have  had  fewer  vaeanci<^, 
flEul  darieatutes,  and  forbidding  distortions,  ii^hilst  the  living  and 
doffkA  poitraits  wbuld  have  b^n  as  numerous,  and  more  d^isdy 
B3dtkdm6i.  No,  had  John  Gait  written  less^  he  would  just  lotve 
pmewed  the  fewer  good  things,  whilst  hid  hand  might  have  gibwn 
stUf&om  the  want  of  practice.  He  is,  besides,  stiicfly  a  moral  as 
well  «i  remarkably  entertaining  writer :  and,  in  both  of  these  le- 
apects;  benefit  is  not  k6  much  produced  by  exquisite  and  perfeetlBd 
morstibj  as  by  the  frequent  application  and  reception  of  tolerably 
good  new  matter. 

TAb^  for  ^:imnple)  the  number  and  variety  of  pieces  in  fh^ 
vdunie^  nosr  before  us,  and  we  nright  i»obablv  say  with  safdty, 
that  of  themselves  they  could  ndt  have  secured  any  thing  like  a 
name  for  any  man,  in  the  literary  world.  YeC,  every  pfebe  is  good,  and 
edtertaining,  although  we  dare  to  say,  all  of  thein  cost  Kim  the  least 
potoible  study  and  toil  that  such  efforts  can  require.  There  must, 
mdeed,  be  not  a  little  to  praise  ih  them,  wh^n  we  consider  that  so 
sbon  after  his  Autobiography  the  world  can  beat,  nay,  feli^,  another 
work  greatly  employed  in  spbaking  of  himself  It  may  be  said^ 
JtAm  Gait  has  been  heretofore  a  favomrite,  and  that  this  bears  hiii 
throng,  in  spite -of  his  odcasional  feebleness.  But  what  is  this  bcit 
telling  ns  thiat  he  has  iestabliahed  himself  in  the  high  estima!tion  tt 
tins  woiid>  whteh  st^on  he  could  not  have  attained  but  throui^h  Bh 
writhijls  harHdg  been,  as  a  whole,  remarkably  good?    Who  ^di^ 


The  Literary  Life  of  JoXn  Gait.  371 

iroiiiM  "Wish  to  have  them  curtailed?  and  who  would  not  have  him 
continue  to  write  so  long  as  he  is  John  Gait? 

These  few  common-place  observations  we  have  thrown  hurriedly 
together,  more  because  we  wish  to  take  this  opportunity  of  recordU 
ing  our  sentiments  respecting  the  man  than  the  author.  For  he 
who  wrote  the  Annals  of  the  Parish  has  long  been  the  object  of  our 
kindliest  feelings  and  elevated  respect.;  ana  every  new  work  that 
lately  has  come  fron^  his  hands  is  sure  to  have  all  our  partialities 
enlisted  in  its  behalf  before  we  open  it.  On  this  occasion  we  shaM 
only  farther  seject  a  few  passages  at  random  from  the  second  volume 
of  the  preset  publication,  not  because  they  are  the  best,  (for  after 
such  we  have  not  sought),  but  because  they  exhibit  John  Gait. 

**  A  man  is  very  apt  to  estimate  the  value  of  what  be  has  doiie,  by  th« 
«ttention  which  he  himself  may  have  bestowed  on  it.  On  the  subject  of 
Colonization  I  may  have  fallen  into  this  eiror,  for  undoubtedly,  though 
way  system  requiree  but  a  small  space  for  explanation,  it  has,  in  upwards 
of  five-andi-tweoty  years,  occasioned  to  me  more  reflection  than  any  of  my 
literary  productiont :  indeed,  than  all  my  other  works  put  togeifaer.  I 
therefore  entreat  indulgence  while  I  offer  it  to  public  consideration. 

"  Doving  the  late  war,  mj  attention  was  somehow  drawn  to  the  great 
armies  then  a^foot,  and  a  kind  of  wonderment  was  awakened  as  to  what 
•would  be  the  effect  on  society,  when  9uch  vast  masses  were  broken  up. 
They  consisted  of  men  in  the  prime  of  life,  bred  up  in  predatory  habits  and 
reckless  pursuits.  Peace  seemed  as  fraught  with  perils  as  the  continuance 
of  war;  and  yet  war  could  not  ever  be  continued,  though  mankind 
almost  seemed  to  consider  it  as  the  natural  and  necessary  state  of  society, 

**  This  train  of  thought,  with  the  objects  around  me,  and  the  ruins  among 
which,  at  that  time,  I  was  comparatively  a  solitary  wanderer,  being 
months  together  without  using  my  mother  tongue,  caused  me  to  see  a 
utility  in  the  magnificent  follies  of  the  ancients-— something  which  made 
them  venerable  as  monuments  of  a  blind  political  >Tisdom.  Pyramids, 
walls  of  China,  and  Babylonian  towers,  became  hallowed  as  expedients  of 
great  statesmen,  to  employ  the  population  of  nations  in  periods  of  tran* 
quillity,  and  they  thenceforth,  for  ever  in  my  mind,  ceased  to  be  regarded 
as  the  prodigalities  of  ostentatious  kings. 

*'  When  1  had  satisfied  myself  t^at  the  mighty  labours  of  ancient  ages 
served  a  public  purpose,  and  that  those  works  to  which  we  apply  deroga- 
tory epithets  were  the  result  of  benevolent  instincts,  I  became  persuaded, 
that  in  the  commercial  and  manufacturing  systems,  subsequently  deve- 
loped, there  was  a  field  opened  for  the  employment  of  men  in  addition  to 
the  profession  of  arms,  by  which  the  necessity  of  raising  '  wonders*  was 
superseded. 

**  In  this  stage  of  things,  I  found  the  world  of  Columbus  had  been  dis- 
covered ;  and  as  the  tide  of  mankind  was  evidently  flowing  westward,  I 
inferred  from  that  tendency,  that  a  region,  in  which  there  would  only  pre- 
vail a  mitigated  spirit  of  war,  was  opened,  by  its  compamtive  solitude,  for 
the  reception  of  the  superabundant  population  of  the  old  world,  in  which, 
by  the  growth  of  Christian  principles,  a  race  was  growing  up  inclined  to 
sedateness  and  peace.  In  a  word,  I  considered  the  discovery  of  America 
as  equivalent  to  the  creation  of  another  continent,  purposely  to  relieve  the 
oppressed  of  the  old,  and  to  afford  an  asylum  to  those  who  were  inclined 

VOL.  UI.      (1834,)    NO.  III.  D  D 


JK  W  Literary  Life  of  John  Gait, 

to  the  moderation  of  that  way  of  life  ^hich  derives  its  comfortB  from 
other  employments  tlian  the  glories  of  our  hemisphere. 

"  After  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  the  Armageddon  of  the  old  'world,  the 
result  I  apprehended  took  place.  Peace  brought  calamities,  in  so  much 
that  even  statesmen  openly  confessed  that  the  '  revulsion'  puzzled  their 
science.  It  was  then  that  my  suspicion  of  the  existence  of  a  superabun- 
dant population  in  this  country  was  confirmed  to  myself ;  but  it  was  only  a 
theoretical  opinion.  I  had  no  facts  from  which  to  draw  my  conclusion, 
but  I  was  not  the  less  confident  that  the  inference  was  sound,  even  while 
I  saw  around  me  men  busy  in  devising  contrivances  to  palliate  the  effects 
of  the  poor  laws,  as  if  by  them  the  evil  could  be  removed. 

**  In  this  crisis,  being  agent  for  the  sufferers  in  the  late  American  war 
in  Upper  Canada,  my  attention  was  drawn  to  the  Crown  reserves  in  that 
province,  as  capable  of  furnishing  the  means,  by  sale,  of  paying  my  con- 
stituents :  and  in  the  transactions  consequent,  I  began  to  acquire  more 
distinct  notions  of  the  end,  as  I  called  it,  for  which  the  new  continent  was 
formed :  out  of  that  business  grew  the  Canada  Company,  the  best  and 
greatest  colonial  project  ever  formed,  but  which,  I  do  conceive,  was  never 
fully  understood  by  those  who  had  the  supreme  management.  It  has,  how- 
ever, in  the  scope  of  the  arrangements,  been  improved  upon  in  my  second 
company,  the  British  American  Land  Company ;  and  could  I  have  proceeded 
"with  my  third,  the  Nova  Scotia  Company,  I  think,  from  the  character  of  mind 
I  had  observed  in  the  straightforwardness  of  Mr.  Stanley,  I  would  have  got  the 
whole  of  my  colonial  system  adopted  with  respect  to  it." — vol.ii.  pp.  36— *40. 

The  development  of  his  system  of  colonization  is  to  be  found  in 
the  succeeding  pages^  where  perspicuity  of  language  and  soundness 
of  views  are  not  the  only  apparent  excellencies.  Gait's  poetry  is 
much  above  mediocrity.     We  give  his  Exodus  of  the  Fairies  :— 

"  Within  a  lone  green  hazel  glen 

The  Fairy  King  his  court  was  keeping ; 
A  river  in  its  childhood,  then 

A  mountain  biun,  ran  gaily  leaping. 

The  sward  within  the  silvan  bower 

Was  sprinkled  with  leaf  ?filter'd  light, 
And  gemm'd  with  many  a  starry  flower. 

The  primrose  pale  and  gowan  bright. 

Pleased  butterflies,  the  mute  and  fair. 

Twinkled  their  silv'ry  wings  so  gay. 
And  pittering  grasshoppers  were  there. 

And  bees  their  soft  bassoons  did  play. 

The  elfin  lords  and  ladies  all 

From  harebells  sipt  the  sparkling  dew. 
When  in  the  midst,  startling  the  ball. 

The  firighten'd  Puck  amazement  threw. 

•  Up,  up,*  he  cried, '  up  and  begone. 

These  verdant  haunts  you  now  must  leave ; 
Remorseless  ploughshares  hasten  on, 
.,  Old  greens  and  clover  lawns  to  cleave. 

*  The  saucy  sower  marches  proud, 

And  showers  the  future  har'st  around ; 


The  LUerar^  Life  of  John  Gait.  378 

Behind  the  harrows  hurtle  rude. 

And  grubs  and^tprawling  ^rorms  abound. 

*  No  more  our  revels  we  may  keep 

On  pIusLy  field  or  moonlight  hill ; 

The  snail  with  eye-tipt  horn  may  weep. 

But  bumming  beetles  must  be  still. 

*  Oh  !  never  more  the  marsh-bom  gnat 

Must  sing  to  warn  fair  maids  to  flee. 
And  soon  the  eager  twilight  bat 

Must  hush  his  fluttering  shriek  of  glee. 

*  For  pawky  heart,  with  wizard  sleight. 

O'er  nature  has  her  cantrips  thrown  ; 
The  moorland  wild  and  shaggy  height. 
Captive  to  man,  the  iasso  own,' 

On  moth  and  fly,  and  ladybird. 

Away  the  flichtering  fairies  fly. 
And  blithe  cuckoos  are  shouting  heard. 

As  speed  the  pony  insects  by. 

O'er  peat- moss  brown  and  lonely  waste. 

The  fugitives  erratic  ride. 
And  o'er  the  yellow  sands  they  haste. 

As  if  they  chased  the  ebbing  tide. 

But  lo !  the  aimless  waves  return — 

The  fairies  see  them  coming  drive — 
Behind  is  heard  the  plough  and  churn. 

And  headlong  in  the  sea  they  dive.'pp.  61 — 63. 

His  Legacy  to  Glasgow  is  capital : — 

••  In  the  year  '88  or  '99,  when  a  boy,  holding  my  father  by  the  finger, 
I  was  standing  on  tlie  original  west  quay  of  Greenock,  while  he  was  speak. 
ing  with  Mr.  S — t,  the  shipbuilder  and  banker,  respecting  some  extension 
into  tfaft  river  of  his  building-yard.  In  doing  so  Mr.  S—  happened  to 
Buke  use  of  the  expression,  that  in  '  about  a  dozen  years '  he  expected 
to  complete  his  improvements.  Should  he  happen  to  see  this,  he  will 
possibly  remember  the  circumstance.  It  took  place  before  he  laid  down 
the  keel  of  the  ship  which  my  father  commanded  till  he  left  the  sea. 

"  The  expression  of  '  a  dozen  years '  seemed  so  illimitable,  that  it  caught 
my  attention,  and  I  became  an  interested  listener.  From  that  day  my 
projecting  genias  began  to  germinate.  Subsequently,  as  I  approached  the 
years  of  discretion,  which,  by  the  by,  I  have  some  reason  to  think  I  have 
not  yet  quite  attained,  though  I  am  fifty-five  years  old,  I  was  led  by  a 
humorous  observation  of  the  same  gentleman  to  the  formation  of  the  plan 
which  I  am  now  about  to  bequeath.' 

'*  A  device  was  hatched  in  the  brain  of  some  Port-Glasgow  Solomon^  to 
make  a  wet-dock  there,  and  a  canal  from  that  unfortunate  town  to  the 
maternal  city.  The  apprehension  of  this  scheme  had  a  most  disastrous 
influence  on  the  intellects  of  certain  old  women  of  Greenock  ;  and  some 
thing  being  at  the  same  time  in  the  wind  about  an  illumination,  Mr.  S — , 
in  my  hearing,  proposed  to  make  a  candle  for  it  as  big  as  a  steeple,  and  to 
melt  the  grease  for  the  candle  in  the  Port-Glasgow  wet-dock.  This  ludi- 
crous notion  somehow  had  the  effect  of  causing  me  to  think  of  the  prac- 

dd2 


374  The  LittTMry  Life  of  John  Gait. 

ticability  of  improving  the  navigation  of  the  Clyde,  and  the  process  of  my 
reflections  led  to  the  concluaion  that  all  running  stream  a  might,  by  dam* 
ming,  be  converted  into  canals ;  a  s])ecific  plan  for  making  the  Clyde  more 
navigable,  however,  did  not  then  occur  to  me. 

"  When  I  afterwards  came  to  London  I  was  much  in  company  with  en- 
gineers, the  first  of  the  age ;  but,  without  the  slightest  disparagement  to 
their  abilities,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say,  that  their  talent  consisted  more  in 
their  knowledge  of  the  science  of  construction,  than  of  any  superiority  in 
the  discernment  of  local  capabilities ;  my  interest  in  the  subject  was,  how« 
ever  thus  kept  up  and  improved. 

"  Being  afterwards  ia  bad  health,  I  was  subsequently  resident  at  Clifton, 
and  having  nothing  else  to  do,  I  amused  myself  in  supervising,  whenever 
the  weather  permitted,  the  excavations  of  the  Avon  at  Bristol.  After- 
wards I  went  into  Asia  Minor,  and  in  visiting  the  ruizrs  of  £phesus,  I  got 
additional  light,  by  looking  at  the  ancient  embankments  of  the  river 
near  the  site  of  that  city. 

"  It  seemed  to  me  that  the  bed  of  the  river,  which  in  some  places  was 
said  to  be  very  deep,  was  higher  thsn  the  plain,  and  it  had  the  effect  of 
making  me  attentive  to  the  channels  of  rivers. 

"  When  I  came  home,  I  went  one  day  into  the  country  to  see  the  pic- 
tures of  a  gentleman,  and  among  them  was  a  view  of  the  Po,  hanging  in 
the  dining-room.  As  he  invited  me  to  stay  dinner,  the  paintings  around 
suggested  the  topics  of  conversation,  and  I  was  struck  with  an  incidental 
observation  of  his,  relative  to  the  river  in  the  picture  being  in  some  places 
higher  in  its  course  than  the  plain.  I  do  not  know  if  he  had  any  parti- 
cular theory  on  the  subject,  but  his  observation  interested  me. 

"  My  idea  is,  that  somewhere  about  Bowling  Bay  the  river  may  be 
dammed  up,  so  as  to  make  all  the  stream,  to  the  bridges,  a  wet-dock,  acoeft- 
sible  to  the  Great  Canal,  and  navigable  by  the  Inchenen  river  to  Paisley. 
I  would  sink  a  sufficient  number  of  sugar  hogsheads,  filled  with  stones,  in 
the  line  of  the  dam,  as  a  skeleton,  to  be  clothed  with  stones  and  graTcl, 
and  make  in  the  dam  two  locks,  one  for  the  outward  and  the  other  for  the 
inward  trade.  But  it  is  in  the  construction  of  this  dam  that  my  ingenuity 
would  be  chiefly  exerted ;  for,  although  I  consider  the  enq)loyment  of  dredg- 
ers, to  keep  the  dam  constantly  of  one  depth,  necessary,  I  would  so  build  die 
weir,  that  it  should  have  a  number  of  sluices,  to  open  and  shut  at  plea- 
sure, along  the  bottom,  level  with  the  bottom  of  the  river,  considering 
that  by  this  contrivance  I  would  produce  a  strong  ubder  current  from  tile 
water  of  the  river,  to  carry  off  the  mud,  and  that  a  side-cut  could  be  made 
to  carry  off  the  surplus  water  whenever  the  dam  was  full,  and  the  slitiees 
insufficient  to  prevent  overflowing. 

"  For  the  labourers  requisite,  I  would,  in  &d<iition  to  the  common  salt 
of  labourers,  request  the  major  part  of  the  troops  commonly  quartered  in 
Glasgow,  to  be  removed  in  the  summer  to  Kilpatrick,  and  give  the  men, 
in  addition  to  their  pay,  some  allowance,  that  would  raise  their  W8(»e8. 
when  they  chose  to  work  on  the  embankment,  equal  to  the  rate  paid  to 
other  labourers.  The  soldiers  for  this  would,  I  am  sure*  all  work;  and 
the  work  might  be  done  in  a  summer. 

'*  The  money  requisite,  I  would  propose  to  raise,  not  by  taxing  vessds 
using  the  dammed  waters,  but  by  a  tax  on  the  dwelling-houses  of  Glasgow, 
upon  the  principle  that  the  city  would  derive  general  benefit  from  the  im- 
provement, and  should  therefore  contribute  to  defray  the  expense  of  wak- 


Walker  on  the  Nervous  System.  375 

iBg  it.  But^  independant  of  such  a  tax,  I  conceive  a  vast  mill-power 
would  be  pcqoired  at  the  dam,  and  that  it  might  profitably  be  disposed  oi. 
"  It  is  needless  to  be  more  particular;  enough  is  here  stated  to  show 
the  practicability  of  the  scheme,  and  how  the  means  and  money  could  be 
obtained,  to  make  those  on  the  spot  look  at  the  subject  seriously;  all  I 
bave  to  add  is,  that  having  imagined  and  ascertained,  by  reflecting  on  the 
hints  of  others,  that  a  current  from  the  mighty  St.  Lawrence  may  be 
tamed  into  a  navigable  channel,  I  am  not  sceptictd  of  the  result  of  work- 
ing with  such  a  comparative  Molendinar  as  the  Clyde." — vol.  ii.  pp.  115 
—121. 


AftT.  Yllh—The  Nervous  System^  Anatomical  and  Physiological,  in  which 
the  Functions  of  the  various  parts  of  the  Brain  are  for  the  first  time 
assigned,  SfC.  8fC.  By  Alexander  Walkbr.  1814.  London:  Smith, 
Elder,  &  Co. 

The  subject  of  this  work  more  properly  belongs  to  a  Journal  de- 
voted to  medical  science,  than  to  general  literature.  But  we  have 
taken  up  the  volume^  with  the  design  of  stating  some  views  which 
we  have  long  entertained,  not  immediately  connected  with  the 
merits  of  the  points  here  bandied ;  and  in  the  next  place,  that  we 
may  record  our  opinions  respecting  only  a  limited  portion  of  the 
work.  There  are  two  classes  into  which  men  of  the  medical  pro- 
fession may  be  divided ;  we  mean  of  those  who  are  really  well 
versed  in  that  department,  both  by  medical  study  and  practice. 
The  first  is  that  where  professional  learning  succeeds  a  liberal  edu- 
cation in  all  those  branches  embraced  in  the  terms  classical,  ma- 
thematical, philosophical  (moral,  natural,  and  metaphysical),  and 
refined.  Of  this  class  there  have  been  very  many,  and  there  still 
are  numerous  examples,  in  the  British  empire ; — ^men  who  have  been 
discoverers  and  shedders  of  light  in  every  department  of  science 
and  art.  But  there  is  a  second  class,  we  regret  to  say,  and  by  no 
means  a  small  one,  where  mere  medical  study  and  knowledge  ^one 
have  distinguished  its  members,  and  who,  taken  out  of  the  shop, 
are  but  of  tne  common  order  of  citizens.  Their  intercourse  with 
enlightened  minds,  which  the  forms  of  society  necessarily  affords 
them,  of  course  confers  many  improvements  as  respect  manners 
and  general  information;  but  nothing  short  of  a  liberal  education 
previously  well  fixed,  can  ever  enable  a  man  to  be  useful,  consistent, 
or  intelligible,  when  he  attempts  to  treat  of  the  subjects  that  have 
occupied  men  of  accurate  knowledge,  and  learned  in  the  estabhshed 
groundworks  of  science,  mental  and  physical,  and  also  in  the  philo- 
sophic structure  of  language.  We  hope  that  the  Legislature,  in  re- 
gulating matters  connected  with  the  heaUng  art,  will  exact  certain 
preliminary  acouirements  of  every  one  who  becomes  a  candidate  for 
its  practice.  Let  it  no  longer  be  the  case,  that  any  one,  with 
merely  the  acquirements  gained  in  a  laboratorv,  hospitals,  dissect- 
ing rooms,  and  from  meoical  lectures  and  booKS,  may  start  into  a 


376  Walker  on  the  Nervous  System. 

liberal  profession ;  but  let  these^  no  doubt  most  essential  requisitM^ 
he  built  upon  a  foundation  where  respectable  attainments  in  philo- 
sophical and  polite  literature  are  conspicuous ;  and  then  the  stigma, 
which  seldom  can  be  affixed  to  the  pulpit  or  the  bar,  that  at  pre- 
rent  lays  so  frequently  and  glaringly  upon  the  medical  professor, 
will  be  done  away. 

There  is  another  blot  that  disfigures  the  character  of  the  medi- 
cal profession,  and  this  consists  in  the  rancour  and  iDiberality  of 
its  membiBrs  towards  one  another.  Neither  are  the  clergy  nor 
lawyers  half  so  much  divided  into  parties,  as  those  of  their  sister 
order.  With  a  difference  of  opinion,  a  total  oblivion  of  the  coar- 
tesies  of  life  seems  very  frequently  to  characterise  our  surgeons  and 
physicians,  when  speaking  and  writing  of  their  brethren.  How 
often  does  it  happen  in  their  controversies  that  two,  each  of  high 
standing  in  the  estimation  of  competent  judges,  deny  that  any 
thing  like  tolerable  knowledge  and  skill  belong  to  one  another. 
We  wonder  less  at  a  weak  or  worthless  character,  abusing  excel- 
lence; for  such  a  practice  is  consistent  enough.  An  attorney's  dis- 
appointed clerk  may  often  be  found,  who  wiU  dole  out  his  censures 
pretty  lavishly  against  the  decisions  of  an  Eldon,  a  Lyndhurst, 
&c. ;  but,  do  we  ever  find  two  such  authorities  causing  the  press 
to  labour  with  reciprocal  vituperation,  disparagement,  and  con- 
tempt? 

Some  of  these  general  remarks  have  been  suggested,  though  by 
no  means  for  the  first  time,  by  the  thick  volume  before  us;  and 
although  Mr.  Walker  is  neither  an  Eldon  nor  a  Lyndhurst,  he  yet 
betrays  several  of  the  reprehensible  points  we  have  alluded  to. 
Nor  are  these  softened  by  courteous  manners,  elegant  language,  or 
precise  reasoning,  which  tend  to  relieve  what  is  reprehensible  of 
much  apparent  blemish,  and  give  a  captivating  polish  to  shafts 
that  are  otherwise  most  offensively  coarse.  There  are  also  several 
other  grounds  on  which  we  have  to  speak  with  disapprobation  of 
this  work  :  but  we  must  be  more  pointed  in  our  references. 

We  begin  with  the  title  page,  and  give  it  as  our  opinion,  that  most 
readers  will  form  an  unfavourable  opinion  of  the  book,  from  what 
is  there  set  down;  a  prejudice  hurtful  to  the  merit  of  many  things 
contained  in  the  subsequent  parts.  The  page  presents  these 
words:,  "An  original  system  of  physiology;"  a  system  "in  which 
the  functions  of  the  various  parts  of  the  brain  are  for  the  first  time 
assigned  :"  and  an  account  "of  the  author's  earliest  discoveries,  of 
which  the  more  recent  doctrine  of  Bell,  Magendie,  &c.  is  shown  to 
he  at  once  a  plagiarism,  an  inversion,  and  a  blunder,  associated 
with  useless  experiments,  which  they  have  neither  understood  nor 
explained.'*  Now,  this  is  such  an  unmeasured  mode  of  speaking  of 
one's  own  doings,  that  it  is  impossible  for  the  read^  not  to  ex- 
claim, "You  are  a  bold  man,  Mr.  Walker,  and  it  is  to  be  feared 
you  think  too  favourably  of  yourself.  It  raay  be  true  what  you 
say,  but  modesty  and  genius  are  very  usually  twins.'*    It  may  be 


Walker  on  the  Nervous  System.  377 

added^  since  we  are  told  in  the  title  page^  this  is  only  the  first  vo- 
luiheof  an  original  system;  that  that  system  is  unlike  many  others, 
and  not  remarkable  for  its  simplicity,  its  plain  and  intelligible 
character,  or  that  the  author  has  not  the  happiest  talent  at  ex- 
planation. Sixteen  shillings  per  volume,  and  above  seven  hundred 
octavo  pages  of  letter-press,  are  no  joke  now  a-days,  when  know- 
ledge is  so  cheap  and  so  much  condensed.  Still,  if  the  matter  be 
original  and  correct,  the  more  we  have  of  it  the  better. 

We  proceed  to  the  dedication,  and  learn  there  that  the  author,* 
thirty-five  years  ago,  was  devoted  to  the  cultivation  of  science, 
firom  which  a  friend  in  vain  attempted  to  dissuade  him,  by  main- 
taining that  it  led  to  ruin.  This  opinion,  he  found  however  to  be 
sound,  and  it  has  been  verified  in  his  own  case.  Certainly  the 
view  is  a  disheartening  one,  but  we  think  it  is  too  sweeping,  and 
not  even  generally  accurate.  At  the  same  time,  we  cannot  very 
much  marvel  that  he  should  encounter  evil,  who  so  unblushingly 
claims  originality  for  his  works,  as  do^s  Mr.  Walker,  and  so  broadly 
denies  to  many  of  his  brethren,  whom  the  generality  of  competent 
judges,  respect  and  honour,  any  thing  like  an  equal  share  of  talent, 
or  even  decent  acquirements  and  common  honesty;  we  cannot  but 
at  once  be  prejudiced  against  the  author,  when  he  lays  claim 
to  such  eminent  qualities,  admitting  none  to  approach  him.  It 
is  doubtless  true,  that  first  rate  genius  and  merit  have  been 
neglected,  and  that  one  man  has  often  profited  at  the  expence  of 
another.  Bnt  it  's  fisu*  more  frequently  true,  that  the  meritorious 
meet  with  their  reward,  when  that  reward  lays  with  the  learned 
or  scientific  community;  and  that  neglect  is  generally  the  fate  of 
empty  or  false  pretensions  alone. 

We  observe  that  Mr.  Walker  deals  largely  in  strong  assertions, 
without  assigning  evidence  or  reasoning  for  their  support,  which 
only  proves  the  unlimited  confidence  he  has  in  himself.  For  in- 
stance, in  the  short  dedication  he  declares,  that  '^our  destinies  are 
inevitable;  because  they  result  from  the  character  of  our  minds." 
Inhere  is  ambiguity  in  this  sentence— in  some  ways,  there  is  untruth; 
but .  as  he  has  not  argued  the  point,  but  asseverated,  we  take  the 
same  privilege,  merely  remarking,  that  the  doctrine  flavours  as  be- 
longing to  a  French  school.  We  observe  farther,  that  Mr.  Walker 
very  often  makes  use  of  such  phrases  as  "I  shall  prove,"  and  **I 
have  already  shewn,"  when  all  that  we  could  find  was  that  he 
had  decJared  it  to  be  so  ;  and  that  though  he  might  be  thoroughly 
convinced,  he  failed  in  convincing  us.  I'his  term  proof  should  often 
be  evidence. 

Inhere  are  not  a  few  blemishes  in  the  volume  before  us,  as  re- 
gards the  construction  of  the  language,  the  perspicuity  of  the 
ideas,  or  the  order  in  which  the  materials  are  arranged.  In  these 
particulars  had  he  been  more  accomplished,  the  size  of  the  volume 
might  have  been  much  abridged.  But  what  is  worse,  his  philoso- 
phy is  so  unsystematic  that  it  is  often  impossible  to  take  him  up 


378  Walker  on  the  Nervous  System. 

and  make  anything  of  him,  without  going  back  to  some  fixst  pmr- 
ciples  common  to  him  and  his  reader.     An  acknowledged  truth  of 
the  tritest  kind  is  often  set  down^  when  all  of  a  sudden,  the  most 
doubtful  inference  is  asserted  as  following  therefrom,  which  pro- 
vokes the  reader  much  more  than  if  he  had  an  entire  piece  of  error 
to  combat. 

But  after  all,  this  work,  we  think  contains  discoveries,  doctrioeSy 
and  discussions,  of  important  bearing,  and  which  stamp  the  author 
tt)  be  of  no  common  order.  We  think  his  manner  is  forbidding, 
and  his  matter  to  be  not  unfrequently  strange  and  doubtful,  but 
he  is  weighty  and  capable  of  dealing  hard  blows.  It  is  not  merely 
the  work  of  one  whom  we  suppose  to  be  fnll  of  himself,  soured  in 
his  temper — it  may  be,  envious  and  unjust  in  his  strictures,  and  un- 
equal to  calm,  welLsustained  theories,  but  of  one  whose  research 
and  accumulation  of  facts  are  great,  with  which  he  easily  and 
readily  proceeds  to  business.  It  is  particularly  true  of  him  that 
he  is  no  quack  or  empiric. 

In  the  preface,  which  extends  to  a  great  length,  the  author  dis- 
cusses, without  much  ceremony,  the  progress,  the  character,  the 
originalitv  and  correct  nature  of  Sir  Charles  Bell's  doctrines  con- 
cerning the  nervous  system.  He  charges  Sir  Charles  with  plagia- 
rism, with  mutilating,  inverting,  misunderstanding,  the  theory  and 
discoveries  explained  in  this  work,  and  others  which  have  many 
years  ago  been  published  by  the  writer,  l^hat  theory  was  and  is, 
that  the  organs  of  sense  being  those  of  sensation,  and  the  cere* 
brum  that  of  mental  operation,  the  cerebellum  is  the  organ  of 
volition. 

"  1st.  There  are  three  distinct  intellectual  (mental)  organs,  or 
classes  of  intellectual  (mental)  organs ;  namely,  the  organs  of 
sensoy  the  cerebrum,  and  the  cerebellum. 

^'2nd.  There  are  three  distinct  intellectual  (mental)  functions, 
or  classes  of  inteUectual  (mental)  functions;  namely,  sensation, 
mental  operation  (intellect),  and  volition. 

'^  3rd.  Of  the  organs,  tnose  of  the  senses  are  the  first,  the  cere- 
brum intermediate,  and  the  cerebellum  the  last. 

'^4th.  Of  the  functions,  sensation  is  the  first,  mental  operation 
(intellect)  intermediate,  and  volition  the  last. 

5th.  As  then  the  cerebellum  is  the  last  of  the  intellectual 
(mental)  organs,  and  volition  the  last  of  the  intellectual  (mental) 
functions,  and  as,  at  the  same  time,  there  is  no  organ  without 
function,  nor  function  without  organ,  it  follows,  that  the  cerebellum 
must  be  the  organ  of  volition." 

We  never  intended,  on  taking  a  glance  at  the  volume  before  us, 
to  enter  into  a  review  of  its  multifarious  contents.  Our  readers 
are  not  generally  of  that  order  to  whom  such  matters  could  be 
made  interesting.  But  as  to  Sir  Charles  BelPs  unacknowledged 
borrowing  from  Mr.  Walker,  we  must  say,  that  even  on  the  show- 
ing of  the  work  before  us,  were  are  extremely  doubtfiiL    Be  that 


JUisiionary  Researches  in  Armenia,  17$ 

as  it  may^  this  theory  may  amuse  our  readers  by  the  ingenuity  of 
its  contrivance^  and  the  neatness  with  which  it  is  laid  before  them, 
like  80  many  pieces  of  curiously  cut  paper  ;  but  surely  few  will  be 
so  led  away  with  it  as  to  think  it  is  worth  stealing.  And  this  leads 
us  to  one  other  general  observation  respecting  the  metaphysical 
qpinions  which  medical  studies  and  pursuits  are  apt  to  engender. 
The  anatomist,  for  instance,  is  so  weU  acquainted  and  so  delighted 
with  the  mechanical  structure  of  the  human  frame  and  its  various 
functions,  that  he  is  apt  to  suppose  all  mental  operations,  bear  a 
similitude  to  corporeal  or  material  phenomena.  Now,  until  this  can 
be  clearly  proven  to  be  the  state  of  the  workings  of  the  mind,  we 
must  content  ourselves  with  believing  that  the  two  objects  are 
totally  different  and  not  to  be  compared.  True,  they  are  connected 
in  some  way,  but  this  to  us  is  hitherto  unexplained,  and  probaUy 
in  our  present  state  of  existence,  it  is  inexplicable.  We  do  not  say 
that  the  author  undertakes  to  exhibit  mental  phenomena  as  plainly 
and  tangibly  as  the  curves  or  the  angles  of  a  diagram  drawn  upon 
a  piece  of  paper ;  but  we  think  he  goes,  like  many  of  his  profes- 
sion, a  great  way  too  far  in  this  direction ;  for  the  unexplained, 
link  or  transition  between  thought  or  mental  action^  and  body,  or 
the  most  subtle  nervous  process,  is  never  made  rationally  clear. 

In  another  portion  of  this  volume  the  author  treats  phrenology 
very  roughly,  whilst  he  substitutes  his  own  system.  But  we  will 
no  more  go  into  detail  with  him  there,  than  in  his  charge  against 
Sir  Charles  Bell :  f«r,  without  defending  phrenology,  it  appears. to 
us  that  he  runs  counter,  or  beyond  what  a  sound  and  cautions 
philosophy  permits  either  the  one  theory  or  the  other  to  do. 

Ere  we  conclude,  it  is  possibly  but  a  tithe  of  the  credit  which 
Mr.  Walker  deserves,  when  we  say,  that  whilst  his  conclusions  are 
in  many  cases,  in  our  opinion,  most  unwarrantable,  his  &ct8  are 
valuable,  his  knowledge  various,  his  views  striking,  and  some-- 
times  original^  not  from  their  absurdity,  but  fearlessness  and  pene- 
tration. 

Art.  IX. — Missionary  Researches  in  Armenia,  including  a  Journey  through 
Asia  Minor  and  into  Georgia  and  Persia^  with  a  Vhit  to  the  Nestorians 
and  Chaldean  Christians  of  Oormiah  and  Salmas.  By  Eli  Smith  and 
H.  G.  O.  DwiOBT.     London:   Wightman.  1834. 

Armknia.  belongs  to  sacred  history.  The  territory  in  ancient  times 
was  shared  between  the  Assyrian,  the  Median,  and  Aramean  Em- 
pires. At  present  it  is  subject  to  Russian,  Turkish^  or  Persian 
sway  i  that  of  the  Roos  has  extended  rapidly  since  the  beginning  of 
the  present  centurv.  But  familiar  as  is  the  name  of  the  country^ 
the  greater  part  of  it  is  still  terra  incognita  to  the  topographer. 
The  high  road  to  Tabriz,  by  Tokat,  Erzroom,  and  Erivan,  is  in- 
deed  well  known  to  mercantile  and  other  European  travellers;  but 
iniper&ct  must  be  the  inf(»*mation  collected  in  a  hurried  journey. 


S80  MUiianafy  Researches  in  Armenia 

under  the  escort  of  a  Tartar  courier.  The  present  work  is  a  mnch 
fuller  account  than  has  hitherto  been  made  public  relative  to  thin 
int^esting  portion  of  the  ancient  worlds  not  merely  as  regards  the 
living  monuments  of  early-  Christian  churches,  out  geograf^cal 
knowledge ;  and  therefore  possesses  a  double  claim  upon  our  at* 
tention. 

One  of  the  largest  of  the  oriental  churches  is  the  Armenian,  and 
the  American  Board  of  Missions  has  been  led  to  hope  that  some 
I»x)mising  fields  might  be  found  in  that  ancient  land,  for  missionary 
culture. 

The  total  number  of  the  inhabitants  of  Armenia,  we  are  told,  haa 
been  supposed  not  to  exceed  two  millions  ;  of  whom  three -fourths 
are  computed  to  be  under  the  Ottoman  dominion.  In  Constan- 
tinople and  the  adjacent  villages  there  may  be  200>000,  of  whom 
about  4,000  acknowledge  the  supremacy  of  the  Roman  See.  The 
Russian  and  Persian  provinces  are  supposed  to  contain  about 
300,000.  About  40,000  are  found  in  India ;  in  Hungary  and  the 
adjacent  countries,  about  10,000 ;  and  a  few  are  scattered  even  over 
Anrica.     The  present  patriarch  of  Abyssinia  is  an  Armenian. 

To  visit  the  land  of  Armenia,  still  the  seat  of  the  greatest 
number  of  the  descendants  of  those  who  belonged  to  one  of  the 
earliest  churches,  two  estimable  missionaries,  whose  letters  cxm- 
stitute  the  volume,  proceeded  from  America.  Their  instructions 
were  by  the  Prudential  Committee  of  the  American  Board  furnished 
in  the  beginning  of  1830,  and  the  journey  was  accomplished  duriiig 
the  remainder  of  that  and  the  first  six  months  of  the  following  year. 
They  landed  directly  from  Malta,  at  Smyrna,  on  the  26th  of  March, 
where  they  were  heartily  welcomed  by  a  circle  of  their  coun- 
trymen and  other  Christians.  Here  they  remained  sixteen  days 
obtaining  some  information  respecting  the  regions  they  purposed  to 
traverse.  In  Smyrna  there  are  about  8,000  Armenians,  including 
those  who  have  gone  over  to  the  Papal  church,  and  are  known 
chiefly  as  thrifty  merchants,  and  active  brokers ;  these  were  esti- 
matea  at  2,000  or  3,000,  but  our  missionaries  think  they  are  not  so  nu- 
merous. They  next  proceeded  by  land  to  Constantinople;  and  of  the 
Armenians  to  be  found  there,  a  few  notices  of  a  highly  interesting 
kind  are  given.  They  were  introduced  to  the  patriarch,  who  has 
the  most  intimate  connection  with  the  state  of  the  Armenian 
church  throughout  the  empire.  He  was  a  corpulent  man  of  about 
fbrty-five,  and  evinced  much  information  with  regard  to  many  parts 
under  his  jurisdiction ;  a  jurisdiction,  however,  of  an  anomalous 
kind. 

The  origin  of  this  patriarchal  See  dates  at  the  capture  of  Con- 
sjtantinople  by  the  Turks,  in  1453.  The  nomination  of  its  incum- 
bent is  exercised  by  the  Armenian  primates  of  the  capital.  The 
person  whom  they  elect  receives  from  the  Sultdn  a  ferm&n  of 
confirmation,  and  is  their  patriarch.  His  removal  from  office  is 
like  his  appointment,  though  very  rarely  does  the  Sultan  attempt 


Mhtummry  Reiearehes  m  Armenia.  M  t 

it.  The  extent  of  Us  jurisdiolion,  as  haa  been  mentioned,  is  the 
flnme  with  tliat  of  the  mnpire,  excepting  oxily  so  much  as  is  em* 
braced  in  the  patriarch  of  Jerusalem.  But  what  is  almost  ano- 
malous will  be  found  in  this,  that  the  Catholicos  of  Sis  is  in  one 
branch  superior,  and  in  another  inferior  to  the  patriarch  of  Con- 
stantinople. In  spiritual  rank  he  is  superior,  inasmuch  as  he  can 
oidain  bishops  and  consecrate  the  holy  oil,  but  inferior  again,  in 
that  he  pays  to  the  patriarch,  instead  of  the  Sult&n  direct,  his  an- 
nual tribute,  and  can  only  obtain  through  him,  like  other  bishops, 
the  ferm&ns  for  which  he  has  occasion.  Tribute  and  large  presents 
are  what  the  Sult^  exacts  of  the  patriarch,  and  he  again  has, 
as  bishop  of  Constantinople,  all  the  sources  of  episcopal  income 
within  that  diocese.  From  every  other  diocese  the  incumbent 
bishop  pays  him  an  annual  sum,  reserving  to  himself  its  collection. 
Bat  the  choice  of  a  patriarch  and  the  appointment  of  bishops  are 
fruitful  sources  of  intrigues,  strife,  and  corruption.  It  may  be 
added,  that  toleration  is  opposed,  beyond  that  of  certain  sects,  by 
the  Turkish  law,  because  every  sect  must  have  a  representative 
and  responsible  head  at  the  capital ;  so  that  if  any  of  the  Arme- 
nians forsake  the  church  of  which  the  patriarch  is  the  head,  he  haa 
only  to  report  them  as  insubordinate,  to  bring  them  into  trouble. 

**  The  case  of  the  papal  Armenians  illustrates  its  operation,  and '  is, 
therefore,  full  of  instruction  to  protestant  missionaries.  Their  numbers  at 
tiie  cqntal  and  in  other  places  were  considerable ;  they  were,  as  a  body^ 
more  inteUigent  than  their  countrymen  ;  among  them  were  men  to  whom 
uacommon  wealth  and  official  station  gave  great  influence ;  and  European 
sympathy  was  altogether  on  their  side.  Still  they  were  every  where 
obliged  to  rank  as  a  part  of  the  flock  of  the  patriarch.  They  could  have 
no  diurches  of  their  own ;  their  pnests  could  not  wear  the  clerical  garb, 
nor  be  known  as  such,  except  under  the  shadow  of  European  influence; 
and  at  baptisms,  marriages,  and  burials,  they  were  obliged  to  call  upon 
the  Armenian  clergy,  and  pay  them  the  accustomed  fees.  Such,  very 
nearly,  was  tlieir  situation  even  at  Angora,  where  they  amounted  to  many 
thousands,  while  the  Armenians  were  only  a  few  hundreds.  I'he  Sultan, 
.having  been  informed  of  the  part  the  Persian  Armenians  had  taken  in  the 
latte  war  of  Russia  with  Persia,  deemed  it  necessary,  when  anticipating, 
in  the  beginning  of  1828,  a  rupture  with  the  same  power  himself,  to  re- 
mind the  patriarch  that  he  must  be  responsible  for  the  good  conduct  of  his 
nation.  He  replied,  that  for  all  who  belonged  to  his  flock  he  would 
readily  be  responsible ;  but  that  there  were  some  who  did  not  acknowledge 
his  authority,  and  for  them  he  could  not  pledge  himself.  The  names  of 
such  were  demanded  ;  and  he  sent  them  in.  The  persecution  which  came 
upon  them,  when  thus  placed  in  the  predicament  of  an  unacknowledged 
dissenting  sect,  is  well  known.  The  banishment  of  the  laity  seems  to 
have  been  almost  peculiar  to  the  capital  and  its  suburbs,  and  was  ordered 
under  the  pretence  that  every  one  must  return  to  his  own  city,  and  of 
course  they  to  Angora,  from  whence  they  had  come.  But  the  persecution 
was  felt  in  the  most  distant  parts,  and  even  in  the  Kurdish  pasbalik  of 
Bayezeed,  their  priests  were  searched  out  and  banished." — pp.  14,  15. 


bSfi  Mlnionary  Rweareh^s  m  Aruuma. 

We  must  not  tarry  with  the  two  missionaries  any  longer  in 
Constantinople,  but  proceed  forward  to  their  proper  field  of  re- 
search. It  may  be  mentioned  here,  that  in  Armenia,  where  no  ac- 
commodations for  comfortable  travelling  exist,  there  can  only  be 
the  alternative  of  furnishing  one's  self,  or  of  dispensing  with  them 
altogether.  The  last  mode  was  adopted,  not  merely  from  a  regard 
to  missionary  economy,  but  to  obtain  a  m<»re  complete  introduction 
to  the  domestic  condition  of  the  people.  Innumerable  in€»n* 
veniences  were  thus  encountered,  however — some  expense  of  healthy 
and  even  risk  of  life — which  lend  a  deeper  interest  to  the  enter- 
prise of  the  adventurers.  They  took  the  usual  road  by  Tokal 
and  Erzroom,  Kara-Kool&h  being  eh  intermediate  village,  and 
the  first  according  to  that  direction  in  Armenia.  Here  they  slept 
in  a  stable  in  the  neighbourhood  of  a  tributary  to  the  Euphrates. 
Of  a  village  where  they  next  took  up  their  lodging  we  have  the 
following  description  : — 

"  Our  village  consisted  of  10  or  12  Turkish  houses.  Its  name  I  did  not 
record,  but  I  retain  a  most  distinct  impression  of  our  lodgings.  It  was 
concluded  that  we  should  be  more  comfortable  in  the  bouse  of  an  old 
gentleman  and  lady,  than  in  the  stable  where  the  rest  of  our  company 
lodged.  A  description  of  it  will  give  you  an  idea  of  the  undergronncl 
houses  of  Armenia  in  general,  except  that  this  was  one  of  the  smallest  and 
poorest. .  You  have  only  to  increase  the  number  and  size  of  the 
and  you  have  a  picture  of  the  best,  wheti»er  Turkish  or  Armenian.  It 
formed  by  digging  into  the  side  of  a  hill,  so  as  completely  to  bury  in  at 
three  of  the  walls,  and  leave  only  enough  of  the  fourth  exposed  in  front 
to  admit  of  a  doorway.  Upon  the  terrace  was  thrown  a  mound  of  dirt  that 
restored  the  hill  almost  to  its  original  shape,  and  gave  a  front  view  r&* 
sembling  the  burrow  of  some  animal.  Its  walls  were  of  rough  round 
stones  ;  its  terrace  was  of  unhewn  branches  of  trees,  blackened  by  being 
intentionally  burnt  to  preserve  them,  or  incidentally  smoked  by  the  daily 
fire ;  and  its  floor  was  the  naked  ground.  It  consisted  of  bat  one  room, 
eighteen  or  twenty  feet  square,  around  which  were  scattered  a  variety  of 
kitchen  and  dairy  furniture.  By  the  side  of  a  \yo9t  vras  a  cheese  pieaain^ 
between  two  stones.  A  bag  of  yoghoort  was  suspended  from  a  strag^^kig 
stick  that  contributed  to  form  the  terrace.  In  another  part  hung  a  cyUu^ 
drical  churn  some  six  feet  long.  In  the  centre  a  hole  in  the  ground  did. 
when  heated,  the  service  of  an  oven.  In  a  comer  stood  two  ogives.  Our 
Sged  host,  having  built  a  fire,  and  spread  for  us  carpets  and  cushioiMi 
straightened  himself  and  ejaculated.  La  iUah  ilia  Allah,  Mohammed  reami 
Allah  (there  is  no  god  but  God,  Mohammed  is  the  apostle  (tf  God),  in  a 
tone  tliat  indicated  some  feeling  of  the  vanity  of  the  world.  He  left  his 
house  and  all  its  stores  entirely  to  us  for  the  night,  and,  thankful  evea  £>r 
such  lodgings,  we  slept  soundly." — ^pp.  57,  58. 

The  pronoun  /  is  used  in  this  graphic  and  faithful-looking  pictiure, 
because  Mr.  Dwight,  on  account  of  other  avocations,  has  not  had  a 
hand  in  superintending  the  publication  of  the  work  before  us.  The 
two  travellers  adopted,  at  the  suggestion  of  the  American  Board, 
the  honest  and  wise  practice  of  each  keeping^  distinct  and  separate 


Murniwrf  Reiemrchss  m»  Armani^  389 

dMrjTy  which  weie  afterwards  eompared ;  and  the  presdtit  publication 
ia  the  resolt  cf  their  joint  and  perfectly  harmonious  notes  in  so  &r 
as  harmony  can  be  expected  between  two  minds  looking  upon  one 
thing.  But,  to  return  to  our  missionaries^  who  had  more  than  bad 
lodgings  to  encounter. — 

"June  11.  In  what  way  were  we  to  proceed  ?  We  had  been  able  to  pro- 
cure only  a  few  fresh  horses  at  Germery,  and  at  Karakooldk  none ;  most 
of  those  which  brought  us  here  had  come  from  Sheherdn.  They  gave  out 
yesterday,  and  one  died  on  the  road,  so  that  we  were  obliged  to  dismiss 
them.  In  this  village  there  were  none.  We  resorted  to  the  only  expedient 
that  offered,  and  took  carts.  Not  the  large  well  finished  ox-carts  of  the 
United  States.  They  would  have  been  chariots.  The  body  of  these  was 
a  sltt^ht  railing  upon  timbers  attached  to  each  other  in  the  form  of  an  acute 
triaagle*  with  the  base  behind,  and  the  apex  at  the  yoke.  The  wheels 
wera  small  and  of  solid  planks,  attached  firmly  to  an  axletree  which  turned 
with  them.  The  yoke  was  a  straight  stick,  and  instead  of  bows,  it  had 
for  each  ox  two  sticks  passing  through  it,  and  tied  together  under  the 
neck  by  a  string.  A  twisted  cord  of  raw  hide  answered  for  a  chaia.  In 
fire  such  vehicles  we  stowed  our  baggage  and  ourselves,  and  started.  Our 
old  host  owned  the  one  we  occupied,  and  fortunately  he  took  bis  wife 
along  as  an  aid :  for  the  little  beasts  tiiat  drew  us  were  so  ill  trained,  that 
both  of  them,  by  going  before  and  beating  them,  and  holding  back,  could 
hardly  prevent  our  being  hurried  headlong  down  the  hills.  There  being 
no  regolar  road,  a  cart  woold  occasionally  lose  its  equilibrium,  and  the 
body,  only  slightly  attached  to  the  axletree,  be  sent  with  its  contents  into 
the  mud. 

"  In  order  to  change  cattle  often,  we  went  from  village  to  village  at  a 
hoBk  the  public  road,  and  thus  saw  more  of  the  people.  They 
seemed  simple  and  well  meaning,  uniformly  treated  us  with  civility  and 
respect,  and  exhibited  none  of  the  haughtiness  of  the  Turk  of  Asia  Minor. 
We  could  not  resist  the  impression,  however,  that  they  Were  indolent  > 
and  tbey  were,  according  to  their  own  confession,  ignorant.  Only  tiio 
nsoUah  and  one  or  two  others  in  each  village  could  read.  Their  houses 
were  like  that  already  described,  except  that  many  were  larger.  Instead 
of  being  -admitted  into  the  family  room,  however,  we  were  uniformly 
shewed  into  the  stable^  I  will  describe  one  of  them,  and  you  must  always 
imagine,  without  being  told,  when  we  stop  in  a  village  hereafter,  that  our 
lodging  place  is  like  it.  It  is  under  ground  like  the  houses,  and  perfaapa 
connected  by  a  door  to  the  family  room  of  its  owner.  In  one  comer  is  a 
chimney,  and  before  it  is  a  square  eaclosure  separated  from  the  rest  of  the 
stable  by  a  low  railing,  and  perhaps  raised  a  step  or  two  above  it.  Through 
the  middle  of  this  space,  from  the  chimney  to  the  entrance  in  front,  an 
alley  or  passage  of  the  width  of  the  hearth,  and  defined  by  two  parallel 
sticks  laid  upon  the  ground,  separates  it  into  two  long  divisions  of  the 
width  of  a  bed.  In  these  hay,  or  a  mat,  or  a  carpet,  or  perchance  a  mat-, 
txessy  is  spread  upon  the  ground  for  the  accommodation  of  the  occupants. 
The  terrace  is  here  raised  above  that  of  the  rest  of  the  stable,  in  the  form 
of  an  arch,  by  means  of  hewn  timbers,  and  a  hole  in  it,  in  front  of  the  fire- 
place, from  four  to  eight  inches  square,  admits  the  only  light  that  finds  its 
way  into  the  stable.  Such  is  the  better  sort  of  these  lodgings  ;  in  the 
poorer*  one  or  another  of  the  circumstances  which  distinguish  the  comer 


S84  Misgionary  Researches  in  Armenia^ 

(}f  the  trayeller  from  the  accommodations  of  hisheast,  is  wanting ;  while  in 
the  very  next  the  division  between  them  is  so  complete,  as  to  make  distinct 
rooms.  At  this  season  the  cattle  being  at  grass,  they  were  empty  and 
cleared  of  dung,  so  that  we  had  no  right  to  complain  of  their  odour  or 
filth."--pp.  5 $—58. 

Before  we  leave  the  neighbourhood  to  which  the  extrstcts  we 
have  given  refer,  one  other  quotation  will  be  acceptable,  as  af- 
fording, first,  a  picture  of  domestic  economy;  secondly,  rustic  greedi- 
ness ;  and  lastly,  national  contrasts. 

"  We  changed  cattle,  and  dined  at  a  moslem  village  near  the  Euphrates, 
and  noticed  the  process  of  preparing  the  fuel  of  tliis  woodless  region.  In 
the  villages  of  yesterday  the  cow-dung  was  merely  thrown  from  the  stables, 
and  by  heaps  and  mire  rendered  the  streets  almost  impassable.  Here  it 
was  spread  upon  the  dry  ground,  and  stamped  hard  in  a  layer  of  three  or 
four  inches  deep.  Being  left  in  this  state  until  it  becomes  thoroughly 
dried  in  the  sun,  it  is  then  cut  into  cakes  of  a  convenient  size,  and  is  fit  for 
the  fire.  This,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  districts  where  there  are  treea» 
is  the  fuel  of  all  these  cold  and  wintry  regions.  With  it  ovens  are  heated 
and  food  is  cooked ;  and  a  pipe  lighted  with  ignited  cow-dung  relishes  as 
well  to  a  native  as  if  it  derived  its  fire  from  the  purest  coal. 

"We  found  the  villagers  yesterday  unwilling  to  fix  any  price  to  the 
food  we  ate  ;  and  here  our  host  absolutely  refused  to  take  any  thing,  under 
the  ftdr  pretence  that  what  he  had  given  us  was  an  act  of  hospitality,  in- 
timating, however,  that  we  might  give  his  son  some  little  memento  of  ns, 
if  we  chose.  Our  Armenian  attendant,  who  generally  settled  onr  bills, 
took  him  at  his  word  and  paid  him  nothing.  We  all,  however,  soon  un- 
derstood this  mode  of  dealing,  for  we  found  hardly  any  other  till  we  were 
again  beyond  the  pashalik  of  Erzroom  on  our  return  to  Constantinople. 
By  it  your  host  would  divest  the  entertainment  of  travellers  of  the  servile 
appearance  of  a  money-making  business ;  and,  while  he  uses  the  language, 
would  appropriate  to  himself  the  credit  of  the  most  generous  hospitality. 
In  reality,  however,  he  intends  his  language  as  an  appeal  to  your  own  ge- 
nerosity, and  expects  by  it  to  obtain  more  money  than  if  he  presented  a 
plain  biU.  Ask  him  how  much  he  charges^  and  he  is  offended  at  the 
question  ;  the  idea  of  remuneration  had  not  entered  his  head.  Give  him  - 
less  than  he  expects,  and  he  is  astonished  that  such  a  man  as  he  had  taken 
you  to  be,  should  think  of  presenting  so  small  a  sum,  declares  that  he  cer-  * 
tainly  is  not  the  man  to  receive  it*  and  lays  it  again  at  y6ur  feet. 

"  Thrf.e  or  four  miles  from  the  village  we  forded  the  fiuphrates,  where 
it  was  about  (9&  or  70  yards  wide,  and  so  shallow  as  not  to  enter  the  bodies  ' 
of  our  carts ;  and  just  at  sunset  reached  the  village  of  Uluja.     Here  we 
first  overtook  the  rear-guard  of  the  Russian  army ;  for  their  troops  were 
now  all  assembled  in  the  vicinity  of  Erzroom,  in  preparation  for  their  de- 
parture, and  hitherto  we  had  not  seen  a  Rossian.     As  we  came  in  sight  of 
them,  our  Tartar,  with  scorn  depicted  in  his  face,  and  pointing  at  a  throng ' 
assembled  around  a  dram-shop,  with  music  and  dancing,  exclaimed,  '  There, 
look  at  the  Roos,  polluted  race !'     An  open  dram-shop,  and  public  drunk- 
enness, in  the  heart  of  Turkey !    What  an  unhallowed  invasion  of  the  sober 
customs  of  the  country !  what  a  false  and  scandalous  specimen  of  Christi- 
anity, to  be  exhibited  among  its  enemies !  were  the  thoughts  that  passed . 
through  my  mind.     Still,  I  could  not  not  but  recognise*  the  scene  as  ge- ; 


MUnonary  Researches  in  Armenia*  386 . 

Tiuioeiy  European,  and  I  felt  ashamed  for  the  moment  of  my  Prank  blood. 
How  long  shall  the  indulgencies  of  the  cup  give  us  just  occasion  to  hlush 
before  the  followers  of  Mohammed  ?*' — ^pp,  60,  61. 

Our  readers  will  observe  that  brother  Jonathan  is  a  shrewd 
observer  and  a  clear-headed  narrator.  Let  it  also  be  borne  in 
inindy  that  these  letters  were  originally  composed^  not  for  popular 
nor  fbr  devotional  purposes,  but  as  an  official  report  to  the  executive 
officers  of  a  missionary  society,  with  special  reference  to  their  busi- 
ness arrangements.  In  preparing  them  for  pubUcation,  this  po- 
Sular  and  devotional  character  has  been  superaaded,  but  not  to  the  , 
estruction  of  their  original  tendency.  To  many  readers  all  this 
will  be  no  blemish.  But  after  these  specimens  of  what  our  mis- 
sionaries can  do  with  secular  matters,  we  must  chiefly  confine  our 
extracts  to  more  sacred  topics. 

£rzroom,  to  which  they  soon  came,  is  reported  to^be  the  largest . 
city  and  the  bulwark  of  the  Turkish  possessions  in  Armenia.  The 
population,  before  the  severe  ravages  of  the  plague  a  few  years  ago, 
was  estimated  at  100^000.  At  the  time  of  the  Russian  invasion  it 
contained,  according  to  the  authority  of  the  collector  of  taxes  80,000 
souls.  Of  the  Christian  inhabitants,  50  houses  were  Greeks,  and 
645  papal  Armenians,  leaving  3,950  houses,  or  about  19,000  souls 
belonging  to  the  proper  Armenian  church. 

*'  Nearly  all  the  Christian  population  had  left  before  we  arrived,  and  the 
(nty  was  so  unsettled,  that  I  can  do  little  more  than  give  you  a  brief  account 
of  it  as  it  was,  reserving  a  description  of  its  present  state  till  our  return. 
The  Armenians  were  under  the  spiritual  government  of  a  bishop,  whose 
diocese  embraced  the  whole  pashalik.  His  previous  departure  prevented 
our  seeing  him,  but  we  received  from  others  an  interesting  account  of  his 
character.  He  had  a  seminary  for  the  education  of  candidates  for  the 
ministry,  and  would  ordain  none  who  had  not  enjoyed  its  advantages.  It 
was  probably  small,  and  the  studies  not  of  a  high  order ;  but  the  attempt, 
however  humble,  was  of  the  highest  importance.  We  had  no  opportunity 
of  personal  observation,  as  recent  events  had  destroyed  it.  In  all  our  in- 
quiries, no  other  school  of  any  kind,  designed  specially  for  the  education 
of  the  Armenian  clergy,  has  come  to  our  knowledge.  Though  the  Arme- 
nians were  so  numerous,  and  their  city  the  largest  in  Armenia,  it  is  a 
curious  fact  that  they  had  but  two  churches.  One  of  them  was  very 
small,  and  the  other  so  irregular,  dark,  and  mean,  as  to  resemble  a  stable 
almost  as  much  as  an  edifice  for  divine  worship.  The  priests,  however, 
were  safficiently  numerous ;  they  amounted  to  32.  Not  far  from  the  city 
are  four  Armenian  convents,  each  of  which  was  inhabited  by  three  or  four 
vartabeds,  and  had  funds  enough  for  its  support ;  but  all  of  them  are  now 
deserted. 

*'  Owing  to  the  patronage  of  the  bishop,  perhaps,  the  Armenian  gram- 
mar school  of  Erzroom  was  unusually  large  and  flourishing.  Its  principal 
was  a  layman,  who  had  five  or  six  assistants  :  and  it  contained  500  or  600 
scholars,  divided  into  different  departments,  and  studying  all  the  common 
branches  up  to  grammar  and  logic.  To  obtain  a  correct  estimate  of  the 
number  of  persons  in  so  large  a  city  population  that  can  read,  is  extremely 
difficult.   It  was  stated  to  us  as  high  as  one  half  of  the  males,  but,  although 


386  Missionary  Researches  in  Armenia. 

the  Armenians  of  Erzroom  were  doubtle8B  more  intelligent  than  t&oae  of 
any  other  part  of  Turkish  Armenia,  this  proportion  is  evidently  too  large. 
We  did  not  learn  that  the  Armenian  females  of  the  city  were  ever  hiessed 
with  a  school;  yet  some  of  them,  we  were  assured,  could  read/*-— pp.  64,  65. 

In  looking  at  the  present  state  of  the  Papal  Armenians,  it  is 
necessary  to  remember  former  Jesuit  missions,  to  which  they  owe 
their  existence  in  the  regions  our  travellers  have  now  entered. 
Erzroom  was  their  head-quarters  for  Turkish  Armenia,  not  only  on 
account  of  its  size,  but  because  it  was  at  that  time  thethorougfafere 
of  most  of  the  overland  commerce  between  Europe  and  the  East. 
Through  the  agency  of  the  French  ambassador  the  Jesuits  were  bur- 
nished with  strong  fermans  of  protection,  and  took  up  their  resi- 
d^ice  in  this  city  in  1688.  The  Armenian  bishop  himself  wm 
among  their  first  converts.  They  had  been  persecuted,  however,  by 
the  Armenian  ecclesiastics,  and  at  the  time  that  the  Papal  Arme- 
nians  were  banished  from  Constantinople,  a  similar  fate  awaited 
their  priests  in  Erxroom. 

Not  long  after  leaving  this  city,  our  missionaries  attended  a 
church  in  a  village  where  there  were  from  fifty  to  sixty  Armenian 
and  seven  or  eight  Greek  houses.  The  former  had  four  priests  and 
one  church. 

"  We  attended  evening  prayers  in  the  latter,  and  found  it,  like  the 
houses,  under  ground,  and  bearing  equal  marks  of  poverty  with  them,  i 
had  new  emotions  in  first  attending  divine  service  under  ground.  Hie 
simple  fact  tamed  my  thoughts  to  the  time  when  Christianity  was  driven, 
by  persecution,  into  dens  and  caves  of  the  earth ;  and  both  the  miserable 
state  of  the  building,  and  the  aspect  of  the  assembly,  clothed  in  rags,  made 
me  feel  that  I  was  among  the  subjects  of  a  persecution  similar  in  its  ulti- 
mate effects,  although  milder  and  slower  in  its  operation.  The  services 
were  indeed  lamentably  far  from  primitive  simplicity  ;  but  the  persevering 
attachment  to  the  Christian  name,  which  has  preserved  them,  however  cor- 
rupt, could  not  but  excite  feelings  of  veneration.  How  many,  I  asked 
myself,  in  our  native  land,  would  stand  the  test  that  has  tried  this  people, 
and  remain  as  long  as  they  have  done  uncontaminated  by  the  impostore  of 
the  prophet  of  Mecca,  could  the  hordes  of  Arabia  and  of  Tartary  ever 
spread  desolation  over  the  fair  face  of  the  New  World  ?  There  is  8till« 
at  the  very  least,  the  name  of  Christ  left,  and  that  i&  much ;  it  is  a  cham 
which  we  all  feel  in  common — a  watchword  to  which  we  all  answer, 

"Tlie  Greeks,  or  as  they  were  called  here,  from  their  resemblance  to 
that  nation,  in  faith,  the  Georgians,  had  neither  priest  nor  church  of  their 
own,  but  worshipped  at  a  separate  altar  by  the  side  of  the  one  at  which 
the  Armenians  payed  their  devotions,  and  at  the  same  time.  This  even- 
ing an  old  man  stood  there,  making  Greek  bows  and  crosses  before  a 
picture  of  St.  George,  while  the  rest  of  the  congregation  were  perfonatuag 
Armenian  prostrations  at  another  shrine.  It  was  a  fine  esdiibitio'n  of  the 
only  difference  that  is  much  thought  of  by  the  common  people,  between 
the  worship  of  the  two  sects.  The  language  of  the  prayers  is  of  minor 
importance ;  it  may  be  Greek,  or  Armenian,  or  any  other  unknown  tongue ; 
only  let  each  have  his  favourite  shrine,  and  go  through  with  his  own  dis- 


MisMiotuuy  Researehet  m  Artnenia,  387 

tkretare  evolutions  of  the  body,  and  all  is  right.  Not  often,  however,  are 
they  willing  to  worship  in  the  same  building ;  and  we  should  have  given 
the  good  people  of  Benkly  Ahmed  credit  for  unusual  harmooy,. had  we  not 
known  that  they  were  forced  to  it  by  poverty,  and  felt  that  the  continuance 
of  sectarian  distinctions  at  all,  under  such  circumstances,  was  a  stronger 
.  evidence  of  mutual  prejudices,  than  the  juxtaposition  of  their  altars  was,  of 
fraternal  union. — ^These  are  ^e  only  Greeks  that  the  pashalik  contains. 

"  At  the  close  of  the  service,  we  entered  into  conversation  with  the 
priesta  who  bad  officiated.     Tbey  were  ignorant  in  the  extreme.     From 
our  European  dress  they  could  conceive  us  to  be  none  other  thian  Russians, 
for  they  knew  not  that  any  other  people  wear  it.     They  were  indeed  in- 
formed of  the  existence  of  several  European  nations,  but  of  America  they 
had  never  heard  under  any  name.     Their  first  question,  on  learning  that 
we  were  from  an  unknown  world,  was  to  ascertain  whether  we  were 
Christians,  moslems,  or  heathen  ;  or  in  their  form  of  asking  it,  whether 
we  were  khachabashd,  adorers  of  the  cross,  a  term  83rnonymou8,  in  an  Ar- 
menian's vocabulary,  with  Christian.     Our  answer  led  to  other  questions, 
designed  to  ascertain  to  what  Christian  sect  we  belonged.     The  first  re- 
spected onr  times  and  mode  of  fasting,  a  test  to  their  minds  most  decisive, 
for  it  would  in  fact  distinguish  between  any  sects  they  knew.     We  re- 
plied, that  we  believed  it  to  be  the  duty  of  Christians  to  fast,  but  as  the 
Bible  had  fixed  no  definite  time,  we  left  it  with  particular  churches,  or  in- 
dividuals, to  fast  whenever  they  might  deem  it  for  their  edification  ;  but 
that  we  knew  nothing  of  a  distinction  of  meats,   and  our  fasting  was  a 
total  abstinence  from  food.     This  was  so  strange  a  kind  of  Christianity  to 
them,  that  they  pronounced  us  at  once  to  be  like  the  Turks.    We  informed 
them  that  we  acknowledged  only  the  Bible  as  our  guide,  and  that  said 
ncything  of  a  distinction  of  days  or  meats ;  while  they  had  learned  these 
distinctions  from  subsequent  canons  and  councils  of  men,  which  we  did 
not  receive.     They  were  not  disposed  for  controversy,  and  slurred  over  the 
difiference  between  us,  by  the  charitable  proposition,  that  if  we  believed 
in  the  same  God  it  was  enough.     To  which  we  assented,  after  amending 
it  by  adding  the  necessity  of  believing  in  the  same  Saviour.     Having  suc- 
ceeded so  badly  in  this  test,  they  resorted  to  another,  to  ascertain  where  to 
class  us.     It  was  respecting  our  mode  of  making  the  cross ;  for  while  non- 
protestant  Christians  make  the  cross  as  a  sign  of  Christianity,  they  do  it 
in  different  ways,  as  a  sign  of  their  sect.     This  was  less  successful  than 
the  other,  for  we  plainly  told  them  that  we  did  not  make  it  at  all.     At 
such  a  heresy  they  were  amazed,  our  claim  to  the  name  of  Christian  was 
of  course  immediately  doubted,  and  they  asked  if  we  did  not  believe  in 
Christ.    We  explained  how  essential  a  part  of  our  religion  such  a  belief  is* 
and  closed  the  conversation  by  remarking  upon  the  fraternal  affection 
which  ought  to  exist  between  all  Christians,  to  whatever  sect  they  may 
belong.*'— pp.  84—86. 

After  telling  us  that  the  above  is  but  a  specimen  of  frequent 
conversations  which  took  place  in  their  journey,  the  missionaries 
state  the  rules  and  doctrines  of  the  Armenians  on  the  subjects  of 
pasting  and  the  cross.  Their  fasts  are  on  Wednesday  and  Friday; 
they  have  others  of  a  week  and  still  longer.  Though  instead  of 
being  properly  fiists  they  are  only  vigils. 

VOL.  in.  (1834.)  No.ni.  ee 


398  .  Missionary  Researches  in  Armenia, 

"In  their  fasts,  the  Armenians,  unlike  the  Papists,  forbid  fish  and  white 
meats ;  they  are  even  stricter  than  the  Greeks  in  their  strictest  data,  for 
they  make  no  exception  of  snails,  shell- fish,  or  the  spawn  of  fish.  In  a 
word,  no  animal  food  of  any  kind  is  allowed.  Even  farther  than  liiis. 
olive  oil,  oil  of  sesame,  wine»  and  distilled  spirits  are  forbidden.  Every 
fast-day  is  equally  subject  to  these  rigid  rules.  Does  any  one  afek  why  so 
heavy  a  burden  is  imposed  upon  him  ?  he  is  warned  that  even  tiie  question 
is  sinful.  For  the  Fathers  ordered  all  by  the  command  of  God,  and 
his  duty  is  to  obey,  or  if  he  be  unable,  he  must  stiU  think  the  laws  to  be 
good  and  blameless,  and  the  fault  to  be  all  his  own.  The  more  intelligent 
•and  thoughtful  of  the  people  are  aware  that  sinful  conduct,  as  well  as  par- 
ticular kinds  of  food,  must  be  avoided,  and  that  the  soul  must  be  humble 
and  devout,  in  order  that  the  fasts  may  be  acceptable;  still  labour  is  no 
where  forbidden  nor  discouraged,  nor  are  any  more  religious  services 
appointed  on  those  days  than  on  any  other.  I  am  sorry  to  add,  that  while, 
with  the  exception  of  oil,  the  prohibited  articles  of  food  are  still  abstained 
from  with  much  strictness,  intoxicating  liquors  have  now  overflowed  all  the 
barriers  that  distinguish  diflerent  days.  But  I  will  leave  the  present  mode 
of  observing  the  fasts,  and  their  effects  upon  the  character,  to  be  developed 
in  the  course  of  our  journey. 

"  The  Armenians  have  an  extreme  veneration  for  the  original  cross,  on 
which  our  Saviour  was  crucified;  attributing  to  it  powers  of  intercession 
with  God,  and  of  defending  from  evil,  and  believing  it  to  be  the  sign  of  the 
Son  of  Man  that,  at  the  judgment, -will  appear  in  the  heavens  coming  out 
of  the  east,  and  shining  even  unto  the  west.  In  imitation  of  it  many 
crosses  are  made  of  metal,  and  other  materials  to  be  used  in  churches  and 
elsewhere.  To  consecrate  them  they  are  washed  in  water  and  wine,  in 
imitation  of  the  water  and  the  blood  that  flowed  from  our  Saviour's  side, 
and  anointed  with  meirdn,  in  token  of  the  Spirit  that  descended  and  rested 
upon  him  ;  suitable  passages  are  read  from  the  Psalms,  the  Prophets,  the 
Epistles,  and  the  Gospels ;  and  then  the  priest  prays,  '  That  God  may 
give  to  this  cross  the  power  of  that  to  which  he  was  himself  nailed,  so  that 
it  may  cast  out  devils,  may  heal  the  diseases  of  men,  and  appease  the  wrath 
that  descends  from  heaven  on  account  of  our  sins,  to  remain  upon  it  himself 
always  as  upon  his  original  cross,  and  make  it  his  temple  and  throne,  and 
the  weapon  of  his  power,  so  that  our  worship  before  it  may  be  offered  not 
to  created  matter,  but  to  Him,  the  only  invisible  God.'  After  a  crose  has 
undergone  this  ceremony,  it  may  be  set  up  toward  the  east,  as  an  object 
of  worship  and  prayer,  while  to  treat  an  unconsecrated  one  thus  would  be 
idolatry,  and  a  downright  breach  of  the  second  commandment.  For,  by 
the  act  of  consecration,  Christ  is  inseparably  united  to  it,  and  it  becomes 
his  *  throne,'  his  *  chariot,'  and  his  *  weapon,*  for  the  conquest  of  Satan,  so 
that,  though  it  is  honoured  on  these  accounts,  the  worship  is  not  given  to 
it,  but  to  Him  who  is  on  it.  The  bodily  eye  sees  the  material  cross,  but 
the  spiritui^l  eye  sees  the  divine  power  that  is  united  with  it.  *  Therefore,' 
says  a  distinguished  Armenian  writer,  '  thou  believer  in  God,  when  thou 
seest  the  cross,  know  and  believe  that  tbou  seest  Christ  reclining  upon  it ; 
and  when  thou  pray  est  before  the  cross,  believe  that  thou  art  talking  with 
Christ,  and  not  wiUi  dumb  matter.  For  it  is  Christ  that  accepts  the  wor- 
ship which  thou  offerest  to  the  cross,  aad  it  is  he  tl^t  hears  the  prayer  of 
thy  mouth,  and  fulfils  the  petitions  of  thy  heart,  which  thou  askest  in 
faith.' 


Missionary  Researches  in  Armenia.  389 

m 

"  Besides  these  images  of  the  cross,  they  also,  like  all  non-protestant 
Christians,  frequently  make  the  sigti  of  the  cross,  and  to  this  the  priest 
referred  in  the  conversation  I  have  reported.  Crossing  one's  self,  they  are 
ttiught  to  believe)  is  the  mark  of  a  Christian,  in  such  a  sense,  that,  as  a 
shepherd  knows  his  sheep  by  their  mark,  so  Christ  knows  the  sheep  of  his 
flock  by  their  crossing  themselves.  The  apostles  first  introduced  this 
ceremony,  they  say,  and  parents  are  urged  to  teach  it  to  their  children  the 
first  thing,  lest  the  greater  part  of  the  sin  of  their  making  it  incorrectly 
through  life  fall  upon  them.  By  it  they  profess  to  signify,  first,  a  belief 
in  the  Trinity,  as  the  three  persons  of  it  are  named ;  and,  second,  the 
mediatorial  work  of  Christ,  as  bringing  the  hand  from  the  forehead  to  the 
stomach,  represents  his  descent  from  heaven  to  earth,  and  bringing  it  from 
the  left  to  the  right  breast,  theJt  he  delivered  the  souls  that  were  in  hades, 
and  made  them  worthy  of  heaven.  They  make  it  at  every  falling  and 
rising  in  time  of  prayer,  and  on  many  other  occasions ;  such  as  beginning 
an  important  business ,  going  to  bed  at  night,  rising  in  the  morning,  dress- 
ing, washing,  eating,  drinking,  going  out  at  night,  or  entering  any  dan- 
gerous place.  The  benefits  they  expect  from  it  are,  that  it  will  make 
their  prayers  acceptable,  and  their  Mork  easy;  that  it  will  defend  them 
from  the  wiles  of  evil  spirits,  and  give  them  strength  to  war  against  sin." 
— pp.  87 — 89. 

On  entering  the  Russian  limits  of  Armenia,  the  missionaries 
found  most  Christian  villages  to  have  a  church ;  which  was  not 
generally  found  in  the  Turkish  parts,  where  places  of  worship  were 
undistinguished  frequently  from  the  common  hovels.  A  bell  too 
was  now  heard,  calling  the  people  to  religious  service,  a  thing  in- 
fiufFerable  with  the  Turks.  But  the  frivolous  ceremonies  of  their 
forms  of  worship  are  lamentable,  and  other  mediators  are  adopted, 
«o  entirely  to  the  exclusion  of  the  only  true  one,  that  our  mis- 
sionaries could  not  find  a  trace  of  the  intercession  of  Christ. 

"  Many  prayers  are  indeed  addressed  directly  to  the  Son,  but  by  what 
arguments  are  they  supported  ?  Take  the  following :  *  O  gracious  Lord, 
for  the  sake  of  thy  holy,  immaculate,  and  virgin  mother,  and  of  thy  pre- 
eious  cross,  accept  our  prayers  and  make  us  live.*  Other  strange  language 
respecting  the  cross  has  been  already  quoted.  I  have  turned  for  something 
more  grateful  to  the  prayer  of  Nerses  Shnorhdli,  which  forms  a  prominent 
part  of  the  ninth  service,  and  is  propably  more  highly  esteemed  than  any 
other  prayer  in  the  ofiices  of  the  Armenian  church ;  but  how  chilling  is 
the  following  termination  :  *  O  gracious  Ix)rd,  accept  the  supplication  of 
me,  thy  servant,  and  fulfil  my  petitions  for  my  good,  through  the  inter- 
cejBsion  of  the  holy  mother  of  God,  and  John  the  Baptist,  and  St.  Stephen 
the  proto-martyr,  and  ^i>t.  Gregory  Loosavorlch,  and  the  holy  apostles,  and 
pro]^ets,  and  preachers,  and  martyrs,  and  patriarchs,  and  hermits,  and 
virgins,  and  all  the  saints  in  heaven  and  on  earth  I'  I  shall  be  gratified 
should  other  inquiries,  more  successful  than  mine,  prove  that  the  ofiice 
of  the  church  do  sometimes  recognise  the  fact,  that  Christ  is  even  at  the 
right  hand  of  God,  making  intercession  for  us/' — pp.  108,  109. 

As  to  Tiflis  the  capital  of  Georgia,  which  the  missionaries  vi- 
sited, we  are  informed  that  the  great  body  of  inhabitants  are  Ar* 
menian,  and  that  their  influence  is  such  as  to  give  it  the  character 

ee2 


390  Missionary  Researches  in  Armenia. 

of  that  country.     Here,  however^  they  found  a  German  colony  and 
a  Protestant  churchy  and  a  devout  as  well  as  intelligent  pastor. 

"  As  we  entered  his  charch,  the  worshippers  were  droppiog  in  <H&e  by 
one,  and  quietly  taking  their  seats,  while  the  devotion  ia  their  countenances 
showed  that  they  felt  the  solemnity  of  the  duties  in  which  they  were 
about  to  engage,  and  the  books  in  their  hands  testified  that  they  had  been 
instructed  to  understand  as  well  as  to  perform  them.  The  prayers  of  the 
pastor  seemed  to  breathe  the  united  and  heartfelt  devotion  of  all ;  his  ser- 
mon was  a  direct,  affectionate,  and  earnest  address  to  every  hearei,  and 
the  singing,  which  affected  me  more  than  all,  was  in  good  German  taste. 
simple,  solemn,  and  touching.  I  shall  not  attempt  to  describe  the  feelings 
awsHcened  by  this  scene,  refreshing  as  an  oasis  in  a  boundless  desert,  thoogb. 
in  spite  of  me  at  the  time,  they  expressed  themselves  in  tears.  Since  first 
setting  foot  in  Asia,  1  had  deeply  felt  that  a  consistent  Christian 
life,  and  a  devout  simple  worship,  exhibited  by  a  few  truly  governed 
by  the  fear  of  God,  and  shining  like  a  candle  into  all  the  surround- 
ing darkness,  was  the  great  desideratum  needed  by  a  missionary  to  giv« 
intelligibleness  to  his  instructions,  and  force  to  his  aiguments.  How 
often,  without  it,  had  I  seemed  to  myself  like  an  inhabitant  of  some 
other  planet,  vainly  endeavouring  to  model  my  hearers  after  charac- 
ters whom  J  had  seen  there,  and  of  whom  they  could  form  no  conception, 
or  whose  existence  they  could  hardly  believe  1  Here,  at  last,  I  seemed  to 
have  found  the  desideratum  supplied,  and  was  encouraged  to  hope,  that 
this  example  of  pure  religion  would  be  like  leaven  to  all  the  cornipt  and 
backsliding  churches  around. 

"  We  took  some  pains  to  notice  how  the  Sabbath  was  observed  by  the 
inhabitants  of  Tiflis.  Tlie  bazakrs  and  shops  were  all  dosed,  except  those  of 
the  venders  of  provisions,  including  (if  such  a  classification  may  be  alio  wed} 
the  retailers  of  wine  and  ardent  spirits.  The  number  of  attendants  at  public 
worship  in  the  morning  seemed  but  small,  for  the  two  or  three  churches 
which  we  entered  contained  but  few  worshippers,  in  tlie  afternoon  the 
whole  male  population  of  the  city  seemed  to  be  poured  out  into  the  streets 
and  esplanades  to  indulge  in  relaxation ;  everyone  conversing  of  his  merchan- 
dize or  his  pleasures,  and  all  exhibiting  a  scene  of  gaiety  and  amusement. 
While  the  ladies,  with  aB  the  famed  charms  of  Georigan  beauty,  which,  I 
may  be  allowed  to  say,  has  not  been  over-rated  (for  I  have  never  seen  a 
city,  so  large  a  proportion  of  whose  females  were  beautiful  in  form,  features, 
and  complexion,  as  Tiflis,  were  assembled  in  little  groupes  upon  the  low 
terraces  of  their  houses,  dancing  to  the  sound  of  tambourin  and  clapping  of 
bands,  to  contribute  their  aid  to  render  this  solemn  day  the  least  soieoua  of 
all  the  seven .-^pp.  43,  44- 

In  those  parts  there  are  German  missionaries,  but  we  retnm 
with  our  travellers  into  Armenia;  and  at  a  village  called  Lor,  we 
have  some  very  instructive^and  important  particulars  given  at  can- 
siderable  length,  respecting  the  domestic  habits  of  the  people,  the 
Armenian  parish  clergy,  and  religious  discipline  of  the  church ;  a 
few  passages  are  here  presented  by  us,  from  the  chapter  alluded 
to: — 

"  Seated  in  the  family  circle  with  our  host,  his  wife,  and  children,  and 
a  few  neighbours,  around  the  tandoor,  we  passed  an  interesting  evening^. 
He  was  the  son  of  one  of  the  priests  of  the  village,  was  a  sober-minded 


Miisionary  Researckef  in  Armenia,  391 

fhinking  man,  and  poMessed  much  more  information  than  one  would  ex^ 
pect  to  find  in  such  a  place.  His  own  inclination  gave  the  conversation  a 
serious  turn,  and  to  prove  or  illustrate  the  various  topics  discussed,  he 
brought  forth  and  frequently  referred  to  the  family  Bible;  a  treasure 
^hich  we  found  in  no  other  instance  in  Armenia,  and  even  here  perhaps 
an  unwillingness  to  think  that  it  does  not  exist,  rather  than  the  real 
'  circumstances  of  the  case,  induce  me  to  use  the  name.  It  was  a  quarto 
printed  at  Moscow,  and  given  by  the  missionaries  at  Shoosha  to  the 
ikther  of  our  host ;  and  though  in  the  ancient  dialect,  we  found  him  able 
to  understand  it,  and  somewhat  acquainted  with  its  contents.  His  serious- 
ness made  him  a  promising  subject  for  missionary  instruction ;  and  that 
bis  candour  was  encouraging,  may  be  shewn  by  the  effect  which  only  one 
passage  of  Scripture  had  upon  his  mind.  Having  learned  from  Antonio 
that  bishops  in  our  country  are  married,  he  appealed  to  us  with  the  greatest 
astonishment,  for  the  reason  of  so  uncanonical  a  practice.  We  simply  re- 
ferred him  to  1  Tim.  iii.  2.  After  examining  it  attentively,  his  astonish- 
ment was  completely  reversed,  and  he  asked  us  with  quite  as  great  anxiety, 
why  the  Armenian  church  had  forbidden  the  custom.  We  replied,  that  in 
the  face  of  sach  plain  passages  of  Scripture,  we  could  not  be  responsible 
for  its  decisions,  and  he  must  ask  his  own  bishops  the  reason  of  them. 

"  Being  himself  the  son  of  a  priest,  the  kakhia  gave  us  some  important 
information  respecting  the  secular  or  parish  priesthood,  which  you  will 
allow  me  to  combine  with  what  we  obtained  from  other  sources,  and  pre- 
sent to  yoa  b^re,  while  what  I  have  said  upon  the  monastic  orders  is  fresh 
in  your  recollection.  Their  appointment  rests  with  the  inhabitants  of  the 
village  where  they  officiate,  and  of  which  they  are  almost  always  them- 
selves natives.  The  laity  are  entitled  to  a  voice  in  the  affairs  of  the 
church  in  some  other  respects,  but  their  rights  seem  never  to  have  been 
reduced  to  any  regular  form,  either  by  law  or  custom.  No  committees  are 
appointed,  and  when  a  question  occurs  which  seems  to  require  the  ojunibn 
of  his  people,  the  priest  merely  calls  perhaps  a  few  of  the  acknowledged 
leaders  of  his  parish  to  the  church  door  after  service,  for  the  purpose  of 
consultation.  The  right  of  electing  their  own  priests  the  laity  universally 
exercise,  and  rarely,  if  ever,  does  a  bishop  attempt  to  interfere  with  it,  by 
imposing  upon  them  one  without  their  request,  or  contrary  to  it.  llie 
inhabitants  of  a  town  or  village  fix  upon  some  one  of  their  number,  pay 
his  ordination  fee  to  the  bishop,  and  he  of  course  becomes  their  priest. 
Should  the  Armenian  church  ever  engage  in  the  struggles  of  a  reformation, 
this  invaluable  right,  being  already  in  their  possession,  will  not  be  one  of 
the  many  for  which  the  laity  will  have  to  contend.  Its  value  seems  now. 
howevier,  to  be  extremely  small.  Not  even  do  the  people  avail  themselves 
of  it  to  reduce  their  priests  to  the  moderate  number  which  they  can  re- 
spectably support.  The  proportion  of  priests  in  the  villages  will  average 
at  least  one  to  every  fifty  families ;  in  the  towns  it  is  somewhat  less.  I 
must  add,  too,  that  though  their  election  rests  with  the  people,  their 
bishop  has  the  power  of  deposing  them  at  will ;  and  the  apprehension  of 
suck  an  event  makes  them  perfectly  submissive  to  the  nod  of  the  higher 
clesgy. 

"  Of  the  habits  and  character  of  the  parish  priesthood,  we  can  give  you, 
with  some  important  exceptions  (of  which  we  were  encouraged  to  hope 
the  father  of  our  host  might  be  one),  but  a  bad  account.  They  make  no 
effort  to  improve  their  own  minds,  nor  those  of  their  people,  in  literary  or 


393  Missionary  Researches  in  Armenia, 

religious  knowledge ;  but  are  given  to  indolence  ttnd  the  pleasures  of  tbe 
table.  A  share  of  the  sacrifices  being  pait  of  tlieir  income,  they  are  of 
course  invited  to  them  all,  and  their  very  profession  thus  leads  them  to  be 
gormandizers  and  hard  drinkers.  It  is  affirmed  that  an  Armenian  priest  will 
drink  20  bottles  of  wine  at  a  feast !  The  report  seems  incredible  even  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  v^ine-bibbing  Georgians  and  Mingrelians ;  still  its  very  exist- 
ence, though  false,  shews  that  the  evil  is  not  a  slight  one.  The  temptation 
is  so  strong,  that  young  men  of  good  habits,  before  entering  the  profesaon, 
have  been  observed  to  give  way  to  it,  and  soon  assimilate  themselves  to 
the  common  character  of  the  priesthood,  which  is  decidedly  lower  than 
that  of  the  generality  of  the  laity.  While  we  were  at  Sfaoosha,  a  priest 
once  went  to  evening  prayers  so  intoxicated  that  he  fell  to  quarrelling  with 
the  |>eople  who  had  assembled,  until  they  were  obliged  ^  thrust  him  out 
of  the  church,  and  go  home  with  their  prayers  unsaid.  I'he  occurrence 
made  some  talk  for  a  day  pr  two,  but  was  soon  forgotten,  as  no  very  strange 
thing ;  and  the  vartabed,  who,  as  wekeel  of  the  Catholicos  just  at  that 
time,  degraded  another  priest  for  sending  his  children  to  the  missionary 
school,  did  not  regard  it  as  worthy  of  attention.  With  such  a  view  of  the 
qualifications  and  character  of  the  priests  before  you,  you  need  hardly  be 
told  that  their  influence  is  very  small.  They  are  not  respected,  and  their 
reproofs  are  but  little  regarded,  not  being  backed,  like  those  of  the  higher 
clergy,  by  the  dreaded  power  of  excommunication." — ^pp.  242 — 245. 

The  Annenian  parish  priests  seldom  preach;  that  belongs  to 
another  class,  called  Vartab^ds,  who  are  monks  in  priests,  orders. 
The  routine  of  duty  performed  by  the  former,  is  confessing,  bap- 
tizing, marrying,  burying,  and  the  like.  Their  income  is  derived 
entirely  from  perquisites;  the  only  thing  that  looks  like  a  regular 
salary  in  the  system  is,  that  some  churches  have  a  permanent  box 
for  contributions  to  the  priest,  and  in  some  villages  he  receives  a 
small  quantity  of  grain  from  his  parishioners.  We  may  here  take 
notice,  that  onr  missionaries  frequently  speak  of  the  inferior  con- 
dition of  females  in  this  country  as  compared  with  that  of  the 
other  sex.  Their  education  is  much  less  attended  to:  their  virtue 
is  supposed  to  depend  much  more  upon  restraint  than  upon  prin- 
ciple ;   so  that  they  are  seldom  allowed  to  go  abroad. 

Of  the  moral  character  of  the  Armenians  of  Tebriz,  which  be- 
longs to  the  Persian  dominions,  the  missionaries  received  the 
worst  impression.  Their  priests  are  unprincipled  hirelings,  and 
much  given  to  wine :  whilst  the  whole  body  of  the  people  are  ac- 
cused' of  the  basest  spirit  of  ingratitude  to  their  benefactors.  Our 
travellers  here  met  several  times  with  a  bishop  whose  name  was 
Israel.  His  acquaintance  with  the  doctrines  and  ceremonies  of 
his  church  was  as  great  as  his  ignorance  of  every  evangelical 
idea: — 

"  He  had,  at  a  previous  interview,  invited  us  to  attend  mass  at  his  church, 
and  we  accordingly  went  the  next  morning  after  the  ceremony  just  de- 
scribed. Observing  us  soon  aftx'r  we  entered,  he  invited  us  to  a  position 
next  himself,  by  the  platform  in  front  of  the  altar,  designed  for  the  (dela- 
tors at  morning  and  evening  prayers.     He  is  distinguished  among  his 


Misiwkarj  Rhsearches  in  Armenia,  39S 

bretSuren  ibr  preaching,  and,  either  in  compliance  \rith  his  own  dispoaition* 
or  to  gratify  us,  who  had  had  one  or  two  conversations  with  him  on  thib 
important  duty  of  the  clergy,  he  gave  us  a  sermon  this  morning  between 
prayers  and  the  mass.  In  the  absence  of  a  pulpit,  a  chair  was  placed  for 
him  in  front  of  the  altar,  and  a  rich  carpet  spread  before  it.  Chairs  were 
also  offered  to  us,  but  we  declined  them,  and  took  our  seat  among  the 
audience  on  the  floor.  His  subject  was  the  proper  observance  of  the  fasts, 
and  his  thoughts  were  probably  unpremeditated,  and  of  little  value.  But 
his  manner  was  striking.  He  commenced  sitting,  and  that  seemed  the 
postnre  which  he  chose  to  maintain ;  but  the  animation  of  delivery  fre« 
quently  called  him  upon  his  feet,  and  urged  him  forward  to  the  edge  of 
his  carpet,  with  a  fine  effect.  No  tone  marred  his  enunciation,  nor  any 
stiffuess  his  gestures.  It  was  nature  that  spoke  and  acted  ;  and  nature 
indeed  in  too  undisguised  a  form,  except  for  these  regions.  Violent  actions ; 
varied*  often  high-keyed  and  passionate  tones ;  and  significant  contortions 
of  the  countenance,  expressed  his  sentiments  more  clearly  than  the  words 
he  nttered,  and  would  have  astounded  a  more  polite  audience,  as  the 
ravings  of  madness.  But  here,  where  every  man  is  accustomed,  from  in* 
fancy,  to  be  kicked  and  flogged  into  his  duty,  all  was  in  place,  and  was 
needed.  He  took  occasion,  in  his  remarks,  to  reprove  the  boys  who  had 
sported  with  the  bonfire  yesterday,  by  accusing  them  of  bringing  upon 
Uieir  church  the  ridicule  of  the  foreigners  who  were  present ;  and,  as  if 
unable  otherwise  to  express  his  feelings,  he  actually  spat  at  them  in  con« 
tempt.  All  his  violence  of  action,  however,  failed  of  fixing  the  attention 
of  his  audience.  The  women  were  repeatedly  engaged  in  loud  talk ;  once, 
conversation  seemed  to  be  general  throughout  the  hoase ;  and  the  boys, 
stationed  near  the  altar  for  the  purpose  of  aiding  in  the  performance  of 
prayers,  manifested  such  a  constant  disposition  to  play,  that  he  was  once 
constrained  to  order  tliem,  in  a  rage,  to  be  silenced  by  flogging.  This  was 
the  only  Armenian  sermon  we  had  an  opportunity  to  attend,  and,  in  fact, 
the  only  one  we  heard  of,  except  at  Shoosha,  during  our  whole  journey. 

"He seemed  reluctant  to  believe  that  we  were  not  papists,  and  assured 
some  of  the  company,  even  after  we  had  expressed,  in  strong  language, 
oar  abhorrence  of  the  pope,  that  we  were  connected  with  the  Roman 
church.  While  we  were  protesting  against  such  a  misapprehension  of  our 
sentiments,  a  visitor,  who  seemed  better  acquainted  with  western  theology 
than  his  bishop,  inquired  whether  we  were  Lutherans  or  Calvinists.  We 
consented  to  bear  the  latter  name ;  and  still  the  bishop,  unable  to  conceive 
that  we  should  not  belong  to  some  sect  within  the  range  of  his  polemic 
theology,  went  on  to  ask  if  we  were  not  followers  of  Arius  or  Nestorius. 
We  reminded  him,  that  after  what  we  had  said  in  a  previous  part  of  the 
conversation,  respecting  the  divinity  of  Christ,  he  might  have  omitted  the 
name  of  Arius  ;  and  as  to  Nestorius,  we  had  no  connection  with  him,  and 
no  acquaintance  with  his  sect.  Not  contented  with  our  bare  assertion, 
he  plied  us  with  questions  about  the  virgin,  and  was  at  once  convinced, 
by  our  lax  notions  respecting  her  pepetual  virginity,  that  we  had  imbibed 
the  heresy  of  Nestorius.  We  explained,  that  it  was  a  point  to  which  we 
attached  no  importance,  and  that,  so  far  as  we  knew,  it  had  never  been 
agitated  among  us.  *  Why,*  said  he,  with  great  astonishment,  '  you 
are  priests!  what  have  you  to  preach  about  when  points  like  this  aro 
deemed'  unimportant  V  *  The  fundamental  doctrine  of  the  gospel,*  we 
replied,  '  the  death  of  Christ  for  the  sins  of  the  world,  and  the  way  of  sal- 


394  Miawmary  Researches  i»  Jrmem^. 

ration  through  him.  Certainly  that  ia  of  sufficieBt  impoHuoe  to  he 
preached.'  We  then  proposed  to  him  the  direct  question,  ^Whatmia* 
vre  do  to  be  saved  I'  He  answered,  as  if  we  had  asked  a  very  unoeoes* 
sary  question,  '  Why,  we  are  saved  already,  and  need  only  confess,  do 
penance,  and  commune,  and  we  shall  go  to  heaven  I' — ^His  convciaatkm 
assumed  this  argumentative  character,  only  at  our  fint  interview ;.  foB^ck* 
the  next  we  directly  declined  all  dispute,  and  he  thus  expressed  his  owb 
abhorrence  of  it.  '  You  see/  said  he,  pointing  to  the  coloured  glass  in 
the  window  of  his  apartment,  '  the  rays  of  light,  by  passing  through  dif- 
ferent panes,  are  cast  in  shades  of  red  and  green,  and  yellow,  upon  the 
floor,  and  yet  they  all  come  from  the  same  sun,  and  are  light  still ;  so  with 
the  differ0nt  sects — they  all  have  one  origin,  and  ought  to  fed  that  they 
are  still  Christian  brethren.' — pp.  329 — ^33  i . 

Of  the  Nestorians,  whom  our  travellers  visited  in  the  Vale  of 
Oormiah,  we  have  not  room  to  give  any  lengthened  account^  though 
not  the  least  interesting  of  the  churches  described  in  this  volume. 
Their  religious  services  and  doctrines  are  certainly  not  so  much  over- 
loaded with  ceremonies  as  those  of  the  Armenian  Church,  though 
they  are  ignorant  of  the  most  important  points  of  orthodox  faiUi, 
as  laid  down  in  Protestant  creeds.  We  hasten  now  to  the  eon- 
duding  observations  of  the  work  before  us,  and  select  these 
passages: — 

"  In  view  of  the  extensive  ground  we  have  surveyed,  a  few  thoughts 
arise  with  which  you  will  permit  us  to  close  the  report  of  our  tour. 
Though  our  object  has  heen  specifically  missionary,  we  have  not  refused 
to  record,  in  our  progress,  whatever  ef  general  interest  has  passed  under 
our  observation ;  bat,  in  the^  end,  our  minds  revert  to  one  subject  to  the 
neglect  of  every  other,  and  that,  we  doubt  not,  will  be  equally  prominent 
in  your  own  reflections.  It  ia  the  deeply  affecting  spiritual  eondition  of  the 
pedple  we  have  visited^  calling  upon  us  to  labour*  far  their  conversion  to 
Christ. 

**  Of  those  people,  the  nominal  Christians  have  engrossed  the  most  of 
our  attention.  To  give  them  the  same  prominence  in  your  own,  we  tnighi 
mention  the  name  they  bear — the  same  holy  name  by  which  we  are 
called.  It  indicates  an  affinity  of  origin  of  the  deepest  interest;  for  we 
have  all  sprung  from  the  same  vine;  they  soon  after  it  was  planted,  and 
some  of  them  perhaps  while  it  was  yet  watered  by  apostolical  bands  ;  we 
after  '  she  had  sent  out  her  boughs  unto  the  sea,  and  her  branches  unto  the 
river.'  Long  since,  indeed,  have  they  been  cut  off  for  their  unfniitfulness, 
and  cast  out  as  an  '  abominable  branch.'  But  by  reason  of  this  should 
not  our  hearts  be  still  more  deeply  affected  on  their  account  ?  While 
*  the  boar  out  of  the  wood  doth  waste  it,  and  the  wild  beast  of  the  field 
doth  devour  it,'  ought  we  not  to  be  moved  to  cry  with  the  Psalmists 
'  Return,  we  beseech  thee,  0  God  of  hosts,  look  down  from  heaven,  and 
behold,  and  visit  this  vine  ?'  Is  it  nothing  to  us,  that  through  their  d^e- 
neracy  *  the  name  of  God  continually  every  day  is  blasphemed  among  tlMf 
Gentiles  ?'  that  the  religion  we  hold  so  dear  is  made  tiie  hereditary  adctfH 
of  Mohammedans  ? 

'*  But,  of  the  considerations  which  above  all  others  deserve  to  be  nam«d^ 
the  first  is,  that  they  are  in  a  perishing  state.     Though  called  ChristM9»-.. 


tiiey  are  allcmt  of  the  ^vuy,  and  fatally  eo.  Take  the  Armeniaiia,  as  oitf 
report  has  exhibited  them  to  yon,  for  an  example.  In  what  do  they  exem- 
plify any  of  the  genuine  characteristics  of  true  religion,  if  we  know  at  all 
what  true  religion  is  ?  Both  in  their  views  and  in  their  condact  we  search 
for  them  in  vain.  Look  at  the  nature  and  manner  of  their  religious  wor- 
ship, their  unacriptaral  perreiaion  of  the  ordinances  of  the  gospel,  their 
substituting  a  system  of  salvation  by  external  ceremonies  for  faith  in  the 
atoning  blood  of  Christ,  and  all  the  evangelical  doctrines  which  hinge 
upon  it,  and  their  attempts  at  posthumous  salvation.  And  add  to  this  the 
hoeling  character  and  debasement  of  the  clergy,  the  excessive  ignorance 
and  degradation  of  the  great  mass  of  the  laity,  and  the  want  of  moral  prin- 
ciple universally  manifested  in  conduct  immoral  or  vicious.  Surely,  if  in 
them  we  are  to  recognize  one  of  the  legitimate  forms  into  whidi  genuine 
Christianity  may  throw  itself,  too  much  credit  has  heretofore  been  given  to 
the  gospel  as  a  refiner  and  purifier  of  our  nature. 

'*  But,  though  they  are  in  a  perishing  state,  their  rescue  is  not  to  be  de- 
spaired of.  For,  another  consideration  we  would  suggest  respecting  them 
is,  that  their  reformation  is  practicable.  It  is  so  because  the  truth  can  be 
brought  to  bear  upon  their  minds.  Christians  in  Mohammedan  countries 
are  accessible  to  missionaries.  In  the  Turkish  empire  may  the  missionary 
enter  at  every  point  and  labour  among  them^  with  no  Turkish  ruler  dis- 
posed of  himself  to  hinder  or  make  him  afraid  in  so  doing.  Wherever 
he  finds  them  may  he  plant  the  standard  of  the  cross,  and  moslems,  if  left 
to  themselves,  wUl  look  on  with  indifference.  Only  from  the  Christians 
may  opposition  be  expected  to  originate.  And  thus  far  we  have  reason  to 
bless  God  that  the  Oriental  churches  have,  with  hardly  an  exception, 
been  indisposed  to  resort  to  it.  From  papists,  wherever  we  meet  them, 
opposition  is  to  be  expected.  From  them  it  is  believed,  has  arisen  all  that 
has  been  experienced.  But  they  are  cnly  a  few  hundred  thousands,  while 
their  Oriented  brethren  amount  to  millions.  And  the  latter,  wherever  the 
experiment  has  been  tried,  unless  under  papal  influence,  allow  us  to  instruct 
and  enlighten  them  by  schools,  by  circulating  Bibles  and  tracts,  by  reli- 
gious conversation,  and  expounding  the  Scriptures.  Already  are  missions 
established  among  them  at  several  places ;  other  places  have  long  been  known 
as  presenting  open  doors  for  us ;  and  our  present  journey  has  added  to  the 
number  of  prospective  stations  which  can  be  immediately  occupied  to 
advantage.  We  have  been  led  into  Persia  also,  and  there  likewise  have 
found  a  field  ripe  for  the  harvest.  In  view  of  what  has  been  already  said 
respecting  the  Nestorians,  we  may  ask,  what  shall  hinder  us  from  preach- 
ing the  gospel  in  Persia  also  ?  There  lies,  indeed,  between  it  and  Europe 
an  inhospitable  tract  of  country  difficult  to  be  passed.  But  shall  that  be 
an  insurmountable  barrier  to  Christian  benevolence,  which  English  tra- 
vellers annually  pass«  for  wealth,  for  honour,  or  for  curiosity  ?  Let  every 
Christian  blush  for  the  weakness  of  his  love  to  souls  that  will  not  answer^ 
No !"— pp.  461—463. 

Of  the  merits  of  this  American  work,  and  the  sagacity,  wisdom, 
and  labours  of*  the  two  estimable  missionaries  which  we  have  been 
coBsidering,  the  highest  minion  may  be  formed  from  the  extracts 
here  presented  by  as.  We  have  found  nothing  like  cant  in  the 
Tohime,  but  sodnd,  sdid,  serious  thinking,  such  as  became  men  ei* 
gugedin  Am  responsible  office.    Besides  the  fiill  information  that 


their  travek  aflhrd,  regaoding  a  great  variety  of  matters  not  imnie- 
diately  bearing  upon  religious  enterprize,  which  the  most  of  ordi-* 
nary  travellers  would  consider  curious  and  valuable  enough  to  fill 
a  goodly  volume  or  two,  we  have  remarked,  that  there  appears  no 
attempt  at  exaggeration  of  the  facilities  ofiered  to  missionary 
eflbrts,  nor  extravagent  accounts  of  what  they  themselves  have 
accomplished.  There  is  a  carefully  constructed  map  prefixed  to 
the  volume,  of  the  regions  into  which  they  penetrated;  and  though 
it  professes  not  to  be  perfectly  accurate,  it  will  he  found,  together 
with  the  careful  descriptions  of  places,  to  give  a  Ailler  and  more 
distinct  view  of  Armenia  and  the  adjacent  countries,  than  is  often 
met  with.     Upon  the  whole,  the  work  has  greatly  interested  us. 


Art.  IX. —  Wanderings  in  New  South  Wales,  Batavia,  Pedir,  Coast, 
Singapore,  and  China ;  being  the  Journal  of  a  Naturalist  in  those  Countries 
during  1832, 1833,  oitif  1834.  By  George  Bxnnbtt,  Esq.  F.  JLS] 
2  vols.     London :  Bentley,  1834. 

Wb  are  informed  by  the  author^in  the  preface,  that  this  work  is  the 
result  of  a  series  of  recent  excursions  into  the  interior  of  the  colony 
of  New  South  Wales,  at  intervals  of  disengagement  from  professionid 
duties,  and  at  periods  of  the  year  best  calculated  for  observations  in 
natural  history.  To  this  are  added  a  detail  of  such  incidents  as 
appeared  to  the  author  worthy  of  notice,  while  visiting  Batavia, 
Singapore,  China,  &c.  on  his  return  to  England.  New  South 
Wales,  however,  is  the  principal  field  of  his  observations:  and 
therefore,  these  wanderings  coming  so  soon  in  the  wake  of  Dr. 
Laing's  able  work  on  Australia,  appears  to  disadvantage,  not  so 
much  on  account  of  an  inferior  value,  as  because  the  field  has  in  a 
great  measure  been  pre-occupied,  or  at  least  ably  treated  by  the  Rev. 
Doctor.  At  the  same  time,  Mr.  Bennett  has  distinct  and  important 
claims  upon  our  favour.  His  work  is  properly  and  precisely  a 
journal,  in  which  "  he  has  limited  himself  principally,  if  not  entirely, 
to  the  notes  taken  at  the  instant  of  observation,  his  object  being  to 
relate  facts,  in  the  order  they  occurred ;  and  without  regard  to  studied 
composition,  to  impart  the  information  he  has  been  enabled  to 
collect  in  simple  and  unadorned  languc^e,  avoiding  as  nmch  as 
possible,  the  technicalities  of  science ;"  Now,  all  this,  we  think,  he 
has  fully  accomplished ;  and  what  higher  quality  can  belong  to  a' 
man's  work,  than  that  it  should  come  up  to  the  point  he  wi^ed  it' 
to  do,  and  to  that  which  it  pretends  to  be?  In  short,  this  jouniid 
abounds  with  a  vast  deal  of  general  information,  though  it  is  de- 
cidedly that  of  a  naturalist,  given  in  an  unassuming  manner,  ao* 
thid;  no  previous  work  can.  have  pre-occupied  its  {dace,  inB8nuioIi.a8 
we  hove  the  ready  expression  o£  a  cultivated  and  scientific  inind, 
without  ostentation  or  mystery,  on  every  object  .that  fell  tinder  his 
notice.     Accordingly,  we  have  not  only  the  facts  to-whicb  he  was  »* 


witneaa,  but  the  Daanner  m  which  a  rich  mind  looked  iip<Hi  them, 
detailed. 

We  do  not  see  that  these  volumes  either  admit  of  a  criticism  of  a 
more  definitive  nature,  or  that  we  can  speak  of  their  contents  under 
any  more  precise  assortment  of  topics  discussed.      We  therefore 

Sropose  to  go  through  them,  and  for  the  sake  of  our  readers  to  con- 
ense  or  extract  as  the  matter  may  strike  us,  and  at  intervals  to 
offer  such  remarks  as  individual  passages  may  suggest.  Accordingly, 
we  take  up  the  author  pretty  early  in  his  journal. 

In  the  month  of  May  1832,  in  his  passage  to  New  South  Wales, 
Mr.  Bennett  had  a  sight  of  Madeira  in  all  its  luxuriance  and  beauty. 
The  northern  part  of  the  island,  however,  is  sombre  when  compared 
with  the  fertility  of  the  southern,  where  the  plantations,  glowing  in 
varied  tints,  interspersed  with  neat  white  villas  and  small  villages, 
give  much  animation  to  the  picturesque  scene.  Early  in  the  morn- 
ing is  the  best  time  to  view  Madeira,  ^'as  the  sun,  graduaUy  emerg- 
ing from  the  dense  masses  of  clouds  which  have  previously  enveloped 
the  towering  mountains,  gilds  their  summits,  and  graduaHy  spreading 
its  rays  over  the  fertile  declivities,  enlivens  and  renders  distinct  the 
splendid  prospect  afforded  to  the  voyager.  As  the  sun,  however, 
acquires  a  stronger  power,  its  proximity  to  a  wide  expanse  of  waters 
soon  causes  a  mist  to  arise,  by  which  the  clearness  of  the  view  from 
tlie  sea  is  much  obscured. 

Speaking  of  the  various  objects  that  are  well  calculated  to  excite 
interest  to  a  naturalist  during  a  long  voyage,  the  author  gives  an 
interesting  description  of  the  Physalia,  or  ^'Portugese  Man  of  War,'' 
which  is  often  seen  in  tropical  seas  floating  by  the  ship.  '^The* 
inflated  or  bladder  portion  of  this  molluscous  animal,  glowing  in 
delicate  crimson  tints,  floats  upon  the  waves,  whilst  the  long  tenta- 
cul£e,of  a  deep  purple  colour,  extend  beneath,  as  snares  to  capture  its 
prey."  Persons  who  are  anxious  to  possess  the  gaudy  prize  suffer 
from  an  acrid  fluid  which  it  discharges,  causing  a  pungent  pain.  The 
author,  by  way  of  experiment,  allowed  himself  to  be  stung  by  this 
animal  on  two  of  his  fingers.  The  sensation  at  first  was  like  that 
which  is  produced  by  a  nettle,  but  it  became  soon  a  violent  aching 
pain,  aflecting  the  joints  even  to  the  shoulder,  and  an  oppression  of 
breathing  was  occasioned  by  the  pectoral  muscle  becoming  attacked. 
After  about  half  an  hour  all  this  began  to  abate. 

On  entering  the  tropics  many  animated  objects  excited  the 
author's  attention.  The  flying  fish  in  particular  attracted  his  study, 
and  although  he  cannot  have  been  singular  in  this  respect,  yet  few 
could  look  upon  such  a  creature  with  equal  sentiments  of  pleasure 
and  wonder,  because  very  rarely  indeed  has  its  nature  and  habits 
be^n  so  well  understood  or  described.  Here  is  only  a  small  portion 
of  his  description  and  discussion  regarding^  this  sort  of  fish. 

«*  The  '  flight'  of  these  fish  has  been  compared  to  thai;  of  birds,  so  as 
to  deoeive  the  observer;  however,  I  cannot  perceive  any  comparison,  ood 
being  an  elegant,  fearless,  and.  ind^tendei^t  motion,  whUktthat  of  the  fish 


398  Wanderingi  in  New  Sauih  Wide$,  ^c 

ifl  hurried,  stiff,  and  awkward,  mofe  like  a  ereature  requiring  support  for 
a  short  period,  and  then  its  repeated  flights  are  merely  another  term  for 
leaps.  The  fish  make  a  rustling  noise,  very  audible  when  they  are  near 
the  ship,  dart  forward,  or  sometimes  take  a  curve  to  bring  themselves  be> 
fore  the  vrind,  and  when  fatigued  fall  suddenly  into  the  water.  It  is  not 
uncommon  to  see  them,  when  pursued,  drop  exhausted,  rise  again  almost 
instantly,  proceed  a  little  further,  again  dipping  into  the  ocean,  so  con- 
tinuing for  some  distance,  until  they  are  out  of  sight,  so  that  we  remain 
in  ignorance  whether  they  have  been  captured  or  have  eluded  pursuit.**—- 
vol.  i,  pp.  33,  34. 

The  phosphoric  light  given  out  by  the  ocean^  is^  as  the  author 
believes,  not  only  occasioned  by  marine  molluscous  and  crustaceous 
fishes,  but  by  debris^  from  dead  animal  matter,  with  which  sea 
water  is  mucn  loaded.  The  magnificence  of  a  phosphoric  scene, 
when  a  ship  sails  with  a  strong  breeze  through  a  luminous  sea  on  a 
dark  night  is  thus  happily  described. 

*'  As  the  ship  sails  with  a  strong  breeze  through  a  luminous  sea  on  a 
dark  night,  the  effect  produced  is  then  seen  to  the  greatest  advantage. 
The  wsdce  of  the  vessel  is  one  broad  sheet  of  phosphoric  matter,  ao  bril- 
liant as  to  cast  a  dull,  pale  light  over  the  after-part  of  the  ship ;  the  foam- 
ing surges,  as  they  gracefully  curl  on  each  side  of  the  vessel's  prow,  are 
similar  to  rolling  masses  of  liquid  phosphorus ;  whilst  in  the  distance, 
even  to  the  horizon,  it  seems  an  ocean  of  fire,  and  the  distant  waves 
breaking,  give  out  a  light  of  an  inconceivable  beauty  and  brilliancy :  in 
the  combination,  the  effect  produces  sensations  of  wonder  and  awe,  and 
causes  a  reflection  to  arise  on  the  reason  of  its  appearance,  as  to  which  as 
yet  no  correct  judgment  has  been  formed,  the  whole  being  overwhelmed 
with  mere  hypothesis. 

*'  Sometimes  the  luminosity  is  very  visible  without  any  disturbance  of 
the  water,  its  surface  remaining  smooth,  unruffled  even  by  a  passing 
zephyr;  whilst  on  other  occasions  no  light  is  emitted  unless  the  water  is 
agitated  by  the  winds,  or  by  the  passage  of  some  heavy  body  through  it 
Perhaps  the  beauty  of  this  luminous  effect  is  seen  to  the  greatest  advan- 
tage when  the  ship,  lying  in  a  bay  or  harbour  in  tropical  climates,  the 
water  around  has  the  resemblance  of  a  sea  of  milk.  An  opportunity 
was  afforded  me,  when  at  Cavite,  near  Manilla,  in  1830,  of  witneasiag, 
for  the  first  time,  this  beautiful  scene  ;  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  over 
the  extensive  bay  of  Manilla,  the  surface  of  the  tranquil  water  was  one 
sheet  of  this  dull,  pale,  phosphorescence ;  and  brilliant  flashes  were  emitted 
instantly  on  any  heavy  body  being  cast  into  the  water,  or  when  fish 
^rang  from  it  or  swam  about;  the  ship  seemed,  on  looking  over  its  side, 
to  be  anchored  in  a  sea  of  liquid  phosphorus,  whilst  in  the  distance  the 
resemblance  was  that  of  an  ocean  of  milk. 

"  The  night  to  which  I  allude,  when  this  magnificent  appearance  pre- 
sented itself  to  my  observation,  was  exceedingly  dark,  which,  by  the  con- 
trast, gave  an  increased  sublimity  to  the  scene ;  the  canopy  of  the  hea- 
vens was  dark  and  gloomy ;  not  even  the  glimmering  of  a  star  was  to  be 
seen ;  while  the  sea  of  liquid  fire  cast  a  deadly  pale  light  over  every  part 
of  the  vessel,  her  masts,  yards,  and  hull;  the  fish  meanwhile  spoiting 
about  in  numbers,  varying  the  scene  by  the  brilliant  flashea  they  oeea- 
noned.    It  would  havQ  fbnnad.  I  thought  at  the  time,  a  sublime  and 


WoMdfirmgs  in  New  S(mih  Wales,  Slc.  399 

beautiful  subject  for  an  artist  like  Martin,  to  execute  with  his  judgment 
aoji  pencil,  that  is,  if  any  artist  could  give  the  true  effect  of  such  a  scene, 
on  which  I  must  express  some  doubts. 

"  It  must  not  be  for  a  moment  conceived  that  the  light  described  as 
brilliant,  and  like  to  a  sea  of  '  liquid  fire,'  is  of  the  same  character  as  the 
flashes  produced  by  the  volcano,  or  by  lightning,  or  meteors.  No :  it  is 
the  light  of  phosphorus,  as  the  matter  truly  is,  pale,  dull,  approaching  to  a 
white  or  very  pale  yellow,  casting  a  melancholy  light  on  objects  around, 
only  emitting  flashes  by  collision.  To  read  bv  it  is  possible,  but  not  agree- 
able ;  and,  on  an  attempt  being  made,  it  is  always  found  that  the  eyes  will 
not  endure  the  peculiar  light  for  any  length  of  time,  as  headaches  and 
sickness  are  often  occasioned  by  it.  I  have  frequently  observed  at  Singa- 
pore, that,  although  the  tranquil  water  exhibits  no  particular  luminosity, 
yet,  when  disturbed  by  the  passage  of  a  boat,  it  gives  out  phosphoric  mat- 
ter, leaving  a  brilliant  line  in  the  boat's  wake,  and  the  blades  of  the  oars, 
when  raised  from  the  water,  seem  to  be  dripping  with  liquid  phosphorus." 
—vol.  i,  pp.  36—39. 

The  Albatross  affords  the  author  a  fine  opportunity  for  pleasant 
description.  This  superb  bird  sails  in  the  air  seemingly  as  if  excited 
by  some  invisible  power,  for  there  is  rarely  any  apparent  movement 
of  its  wings.  But  this  very  want  of  muscular  ex.ertion  is  the 
reason  why  these  birds  sustain  such  long  flights  as  they  do  without 
repose.  The  largest  seen  by  the  author,  measured,  when  its  wings 
were  expanded, fourteen  feet;  but  specimens,  it  is  asserted, have  been 
shot  that  have  me^ured  twenty  feet  across.  The  immense  distance 
these  birds  are  capable  of  flying  has  been  ascertained  by  having  some 
of  them  caught,  marked,  and  again  set  at  liberty.  The  cause  of  their 
long  and  easy  repose  in  the  air  is  thus  given  by  Mr.  Bennett : — 

"  To  watch  the  flight  of  these  birds  used  to  afford  me  much  amuse- 
ment ;— commencing  with  the  difficulty  experienced  by  them  in  elevating 
themselves  from  the  water.  To  effect  this  object,  they  spread  their  long 
pinions  to  the  utmost,  giving  them  repeated  impulses  as  they  run  along 
the  surface  of  the  water  for  some  distance.  Having,  by  these  exertions, 
raised  themselves  above  the  wave,  they  ascend  and  descend,  and  cleave 
the  atmosphere  in  various  directions,  without  any  apparent  muscular 
exertion.  How  then,  it  may  be  asked,  do  these  birds  execute  such  move- 
ments ?  The  whole  surface  of  the  body  in  this,  as  well  as,  I  believe,  most, 
if  not  alU  the  oceanic  tribes,  is  covered  by  numerous  air-cells,  capable  of 
a  voluntary  inflation  or  diminution,  by  means  of  a  beautiful  muscular  ap- 
paratus. By  thia  power,  the  birds  can  raise  or  depress  themselves  at  will, 
and  the  tail,  and  g^reat  length  of  the  wing,  enable  them  to  steer  in  any 
direction.  Indeed,  without  some  provision  of  this  kind,  to  save  muscular 
exertion,  it  would  be  impossible  for  these  birds  to  undergo  such  long 
flights  without  repose,  as  they  have  been  known  to  do ;  for  the  muscles 
appertaining  to  the  organs  of  flight,  although  large  in  these  birds,  are 
evidently  madequate  in  power  to  the  long  distances  they  have  been  known 
to  fly,  and  the  immense  length  of  time  they  remain  on  the  wing,  ^thout 
flcasx^ely  a  moment's  cessation.*' — ^vol.  i,  pp.  46,  47. 

Mr.  Bennett'describes  the  appearance  of  the  Australian  coast  as 
sombre,  and  as  calculated  to  excite  in  the  btosom  of  an  emigran 


40O  Wanderings  in  Nho  South  WcJes,  S^, 

•       .  .       •     •  •  * 

disappointment  and  despondency.  But  on  viewing  the  inteitoi* 
much  of  these  feelings  wears  ofF^  although  he  will  see  and  meet  a 
great  deal  to  confirm  his  first  impressions.  The  independence  and 
ease  which  he  begins  to  find  industry  can  command^  reconciles  him 
chiefly  to  the  choice  he  has  made.  Sydney  is  a  rising  and  flourish- 
ing town,  but  we  need  not  enter  into  a  view  of  this  seat  of  govern- 
menti  ^Xter  what  has  been  so  recently  published  regarding  it.  Ere 
proceedittg  With  the  author  into  the  interior,  we  shall  only  state, 
^hd  with  approbation,  that  he  suggests  tbe  expediency,  from  the 
wealth  and  importance  of  this  part  of  the  colony,  that  it  should  no 
longer  be  used  as  a  penal  settlement.  He  mentions  it  as  a  well 
known  fact,  that  free  emigration  is  detested  by  most  of  the  convict 
party,  which  intimates  at  once  the  future  policy  necessary  to  be 
employed  to  correct  such  an  order  of  feeling.  As  an  illustration  of 
the  fact  stated  by  him,  he  gives  the  remark  which  a  wealthy  individual 
of  this  jealous  class  once  uttered.  "  What  have  free  emigrants  to  do 
here?  the  colony  was  founded  for  us,  they  have  no  right  here;"  and 
that  individual,  from  his  wealth,  adds  our  author,  would  probably 
be  elected  a  member  of  a  future  House  of  Assembly. 

It  would  appear  that  there  is  a  peculiar  character  in  the  vegeta- 
tion in  the  neighbourhood  of  Sydney,  and  other  parts  of  Australia, 
the  foliage  of  the  trees,  for  instance,  having  a  dry  appearance,  and 
being  destitute  of  lustre.  This  is  attributed  by  Dr.  Brown,  the 
celebrated  botanist,  to  the  equal  existence  of  cutaneous  glands  on 
both  surfaces  of  the  leaf.  Other  singularities  are  the  trees  attaining 
a  great  elevation,  with  branches  only  at  the  summit,  and  shedding 
their  bark,  which  convey  to  us  different  ideas  from  those  fi3rmed 
from  the  vegetation  of  other  countries. 

A  museum  has  been  recently  established  at  Sydney,  respecting 
which  the  author  has  several  sensible  suggestions.  Certainly  few 
countries  possess  such  facilities  for  the  procuring  of  specimens.  Still, 
such  institutions  can  only  be  supported  and  conducted  with  proper 
spirit  and  intelligence,  where  society  affords  sufficient  numbers  to 
excite  great  reciprocal  enterprise,  and  constantly  to  interchange 
additional  discoveries :  features  not  hkely  to  be  prevalent  in  a  yoang 
colony. 

Our  author  is  of  opinion  that  there  is  too  much  ground  for  the 
statement  that  prisoners  of  the  crown  are  better  off  in  New  South 
Wales  than  free  men ;  and  he  suggests  that — 

"  Convicts  ought  (if  by  transportation  any  punishment  is  intended)  to 
be  sent,  according  to  the  nature  of  their  crimes,  to  the  whole  of  our  colo- 
nies, whether  in  the  East  and  West  Indies,  coast  of  Africa,  &c..&c., solely 
for  the  purpose  of  being  employed  upon  the  public  works,  and  free  emi- 
gration to  be  encouraged  to  Australia,  Cape,  &c.,  on  a  very  extended 
scale.  The  influence  of  the  emancipist  class  of  the  New  South  Wales 
population  ig  great,  and  they  are  also  possessed  of  great  wealth.  As  wealth 
is  one  degree  of  power,  they  must  be  regarded  both  as  an  influential  and 
powerful  bod^.     There  is  also  that  system'  adopted,  which  is  much  to  be 


Waikierin^  m  Nw  South  Waies^  8fc,  401 

regretted.  I  allude  to  no  distinction  being  made  between  those  banished 
for  trivial  offences,  and  those  who  have  committed  deeper  crimes.  Many 
atrocious  characters  are  assigned  to  persons  of  the  highest  respectability, 
well  clothed  and  fed ;  and  from  them  often  have  I  witnessed  most  un- 
bounded insolence  :  so  that  a  stranger  would  imagine  the  master  to  be 
.under  obligations  to  the  servant,  and  would  be  astonished  when  told  that 
the  servant  was  a  convicted  felon." — vol.  ii,  pp.  91,  ^. 

The  aboriginal  tribes  belonging  to  thie  districts  of  the  British 
colony,  it  appears,  are  no  strangers  to  infanticide.  The  females, 
when  they  experience  much  lingering  suffering  in, labour,  will 
threaten  the  life  of  the  infant  previous  to  birth,  and  afterwards  keep 
their  word.  This  crime  occurs  very  frequently,  when  the  children 
are  half-castes. 

"During  a  visit  to  the  Murrumbidg^e  and  Tumat countries,  as  well  as 
other  parts  of  the  colony,  I  availed  myself  of  every  opportunity  to  pro- 
cure information  regarding  acts  of  infanticide,  as  exieXimg  among  the 
aborigines  <^.this  country.  I  succeeded  in  ascertaining  that  infants  were 
frequently  destroyed :  sometimes,  the  reason,  assigned  was  some  personal 
defect  in  the  infant,  (whence  Vt^e  may  attribute  to  the  fact  of  a  deformed 
persCn  being  seldopi  seen  among  the  native  tribes,)  or  the  mother  not 
wishing  to  have  the  trouble  of  carrying  it  about:  the  female  children 
were  mote  frequently  destroyed  than  the  males.  1  heard  of  a  weak  and 
jsickly  child  having  been  destroyed,  and  even  eaten :  the  reasoii  given  by 
the  unnatural  parents  was,  tbftt  they  were  very  hungry,  and  the  child  no 
use  and  much  trouble;  one  redeeming: quality,  however,  was,  that  they 
displayed  a  sense  of  shame  when  acknowledging  the  fact,  and  gave  the 
reason  for  which  they  had  committed  so  barbarous  an  act.  It  is  seldom 
they  will  confess  having  destroyed  their  offspring :  one,  however,  who 
had  a  child  by  an  European,  acknowledged  it  readily ;  and  the  reason 
given  for  the  commission  was  its  being  Uke  a  warragul^  or  ncttive  dog. 
This  was  because  the  infant,  Uke  its  papa,  had.  a  ^  carroty  poll,'  and  thus 
resembled,  in  colour,  the  hair  of  the  native  dog,  which  is  certainly  not  so 
handsome  as  the  dark  black  locks  of  the  aboriginal  tribes. 

**  Although  addicted  to  infanticide,  they  display,  in  other  instances,  aa 
extraordinary  degree  of  affection  for  their  dead  offspring,  evidenced  by 
an  act  that  almost  exceeds  credibility,  had  it  not  so  often  been  witnessed 
among  the  tribes  in  the  interior  of  the  colony.  I  allude  to  the  fact  of  de- 
ceased children,  from  the  earliest  age  to  even  six  or  seven  years,  being 
placed  in  a  bag,  made  of  kangaroo  skin,  and  slung  upon  the  back  of  the 
mother,,  who,  besides  this  additional  burden,  carries  her  .usual  netbul,  or 
oiUy,  for  provisions,  &c.  They  carry  them  thus  for  ten  or  twelve  months, 
sleeping  upon  the  mass  of  mortal  remains,  which  serves  them  for  a  pil- 
low, apparently  unmindful  of  the  horrid  foetor  which  emanates  from  such 
a  potrifying  substance.  Habit  must  reconcile  them  to  it,  for  a  woman 
carrying  such  a  burden,  may  be  *  nosed '  at  a  long  distance  before  seen ; 
and  a  stranger,  unacquainted  with  this  native  custom,  will  see  a  woman 
with  a  large  pack  upon  her  back,  from  which  such  an  odour  proceeds;  as 
to  make  him  doubt  from  what  it  can  be  produced.  When  the  body  be- 
comes dry,  or  only  the  bones  left,  the  remains  are  burnt,  buried,  or  placed 
into  a  hollow  trunk  or  limb  of  a  tree  :  in  the  latter  instance  covering  the 
opening  carefully  with  stones,  &c«    All  the  information  tiiat  could  be 


402  Wamderings  in  New  South  Wales,  4c. 

procured  from  them  respecting  this  disgusting  custom,  wss,  *  that  thejr 
were  afraid,  if  they  buried  them,  the  Buckee^  or  devil>devil  would  take 
Ihem  away.'  When  the  adults  among  the  aborigines  die,  the  body  is 
consigned  to  the  hollow  trunk  of  a  tree,  cave,  or  in  the  ground,  ajccord* 
ing  to  circumstances,  and  wood,  stones,  &c.,  are  piled  on  the  entrance,  or 
over  the  grave,  so  that,  according  to  the  ideas  of  these  poor,  superstitious 
savages,  the  Buckee  may  not  be  able  to  find  them." — vd.  i,  pp.  124 — 126. 

Polygamy  is  permitted  among  the  Australian  Aborigines ;  cAoh 
takes  and  dismisses  wives  as  he  pleases^  although  many  have  cmly 
fme  at  a  time.  They  are  a  filthy  race^  in  general  habits  and  in 
eooking.  The  cloaks  made  of  skins,  which  they  wear  in  odd 
weather,  are  not  for  decency.     Still  they  aflfect  certain  ornaments. 

'*  Both  sexes  have  the  septum  naris  perforated,  in  which  a  piece  of 
straw,  stick,  or  emu-bone  is  worn,  looking  like  what  Jack  would  term  a 
*  spritsail  yard ;'  this  practice  is  universal  among  the  whole  of  the  tribes 
seen  in  the  colony,  and  is  regarded  as  highly  ornainental.  I  have  befoi% 
alluded  to  the  loss  of  an  incisor  tooth  of  the  upper  jaw,  ol  served  among 
the  adult  male  natives ;  this,  on  inquiry,  I  found  proceeded  from  a  custom 
existing  among  them,  (which  is  attended  at  the  time  with  much  cere- 
mony,) of  a  male,  on  attaining  the  age  of  manhood,  having  to  undergd 
this  operation,  receiving  at  the  same  time  the  *  cumeel,'  or  opossum-skiH 
belt,  after  which  he  is  admitted  into  the  society  of  men,  permitted  to  at- 
tend the  corroberas,  or  consultations  when  any  marauding  or  war  expe^ 
dition  is  in  contemplation,  or  when  the  tribe  is  about  to  remove  from  on^ 
part  of  the  country  to  another :  previous  to  this,  they  are  considered 
only  fit  society  for  women,  and  associater  principally  with  them.  Aioa 
of  a  chief  at  Yas  Plains,  who  had  not  yet  undergone  this  cereraonyr  Ql^ 
cessary  for  his  admission;  attended  one  of  their  meetings ;  on  being  disr 
covered,  he  was  obliged  to  leave  the  assembly. 

**  Among  the  native  inhabitants  of  the  Yas  district  was  a  pair  of  ori-^ 
ginals :  the  man  was  called  Daraga,  and  his  lady  the  *  beautiful  Kitty  of 
Yas.'  Neither  of  them  had  pretensions  to  beauty.  The  lady  had  otna^ 
mented  her  delicate  form  (for  all  the  ladies  are  fond  of  adornments)  with 
two  opossum  tciils;  pendent  in  a  graceful  manner  from  her  greasy  lodksj 
pieces  of  tobacco-pipe,  mingled  with  coloured  beads,  adorned  herneekt 
an  old,  dirty  opossum-skin  cloak  was  thrown  over  the  shoulders ;  a  bundle 
of  indescribable  rags  around  the  waist ;  and  a  netbul  or  cuiy  hang'uii^ 
behind,  (filled  with  a  collection  of  '  small  deer,'  and  other  eatables,>^«li«jt- 
would  baffle  all  attf*mpts  at  description,)  completed  the  toilette  df-this 
angelic  creature.  Of  her  features  I  shall  only  say,  they  were  not'Snoh  «i 
painters  represent  those  of  Venus :  her  mouth,  for  instance,  had  a  striking 
resemblance  to  the  gaping  en  trace  of  a  Wombat's  burrow.  .  The  husblmd 
also  had  decorated  the  locks  of  his  cranium  with  opossum  tails,  with'  the- 
addition  of  grease  and  red  ochre ;  a  tuft  of  beard  ornamented  his  efain ; 
and  the  colour  of  his  hide  was  barely  discernible,  from  the  layers  of  mud 
and  charcoal  covering  it ;  he  wore  a  *  spntsail yard '  through  his* apology- 
for  a  nose;'  the  opossum- skin  cloak  covered  his  shoulders;  and  .tb« 
'  cumeel,'  or  belt  of  opossum-skin,  girded  the  loins :  the  pipe  was  his  eon* 
staot  companion,  as  the  love  of  tobacco  among  those  who  have  t&tBr<- 
course  with  Europeans  is  unbounded,  and  no  more  acceptable  present  cm 
be  made  them." — ^vol.  i,  pp.  176 — 182. 


Wanderingi  m  New  Savih  fVaks,  Sgc.  403 

It  is  well  knbwn  that  snakes  are  numerous  in  the  oolony.  Those 
known  as  the  "  black  and  brown  kinds/'  take  to  the  water,  and 
indeed  procure  their  food  from  the  banks  of  the  streams.  They  a^e 
venomous^  but  said  not  to  be  deadly.  But  these  are  not  the  only 
venomous  reptiles. 

**  There  is  another  dangerous  snake,  called  '  yellow  snake '  by  the  cole- 
nififts,  and  '  Jaruk '  hy  the  Yas  natives :  it  attains  a  large  size,  and  has  the 
reputation  of  being  very  venomous,  the  bite  producing  almost  immediate 
death.  The  most  deadly  snake  in  appearance,  and  I  believe  also  in  effect, 
is  one  of  hideous  aspect,  called  by  the  colonists  the  *  death  adder,'  and  by 
the. Yas  natives '  Tammin/  from  having  a  small  curved  process  at  the 
extremity  of  the  tail,  or,  more  correctly,  the  tail  terminating  suddenly  in 
a  small  curved  extremity,  bearing  tome  resemblance  to  a  sting ;  it  is  con« 
aidered  by  popular  rumour  to  inflict  a  deadly  sting  with  it. 

''  This  hideous  reptile  is  thick  in  proportion  to  its  length  ;  the  eye  is 
vivid  yellow,  with  a  black  longitudinal  pupil ;  the  colour  of  the  body  is 
difficult  to  be  described,  being  a  complication  of  dull  colours,  with  nar- 
row, blackish  bands,  shaded  off  into  the  colours  wbich  compose  the  back ; 
abdomen  slightly  tinged  with  red ;  head  broad,  thick,  and  flattened.  The 
specimen  I  examined  measured  two  feet  two  inches  in  length,  and  five 
inches  in  circumference.  It  is,  I  believe,  an  undescribed  species.  A  dog 
that  was  bitten  by  one,  died  in  less  than  an  hour.  The  specimen  I  exa- 
mined was  found  coiled  up  near  the  banks  of  the  Murrumbidgee  river ; 
and  being  of  a  torpid  disposition,  did  not  move  when  approached,  but 
quietly  reposed  in  the  pathway,  with  its  head  turned  beneath  the  belly." — 
vol.  i,  pp.  218,  217. 

We  meet  with  such  an  ihstance  of  the  devoted  attachment  of  a 
savage  female,  detailed  by  the  author,  that  we  cannot  but  extract 
the  account.  Female  lov^  and  fidelity  are  not  confined  to  civilized 
life. 

*'  A  female  ci  one  of  thi  aboriginal  tribes  in  the  Murrumbidgee  coun- 
try formed  an  attachment  and  cohabited  with  a  convict  named  Tallboy, 
who,  becoming  a  bush-ranger,  was  for  a  long  time  sought  after  by  the 
police  for  the  many  atrocities  he  hatf  committed,  but  always  eluded  pursuit. 
This  female  concealed  him  with  l^ue  native  ingenuity,  and  baffled  his  pur. 
suers— she  would  fish  and  hunt  for  him,  whilst  he  remained  secluded  in  the 
retreat  she  chose.  She  often  visited  the  stock-keepers*  huts  at  the  different 
stations,  and  whatever  provision  she  received  from  them  was  immediately 
conveyed  to  the  unworthyobject  of  her  devoted  attachment.  Although 
many  knew  she  was  privy  to  his  concealment,  yet  it  was  found  impossible  to 
elude  her  vigilance,  by  following  her,  and  thus  discover  his  retreat ;— she» 
evaded  all  attempts,  and  seemed  ever  watchful  for  his  safety,  probably 
knowing  the  fate  that  awaited  him,  if  taken.  Neither  promises  of  re- 
wikjrds— enough  to  excite  the  cupidity  of  any  individual,  but  one  in  whom  a 
higher  feeling  was  paramount — ^nor  threats  could  induce  her  even  to  ac- 
knowledge .she  was  acquainted  with  his  place  of  concealment,  much  more 
betray  it  Nay,  it  has  occurred  more  than  once,  when  there  was  a  fear 
of  discovery,  that  she  has  given  voluntary  information  to  the  police  of 
having  seen  him  thirty  or  fifty  miles  distant,  when,  in  fact,  his  place  of 
concealment  was  in  the  immediate  neighboui'hood.  -  The  brute,  however, 
VOL.  III.  (1834.)  No.ni.  ff 


4M  WofUhiHgM,  in  Nekf  South  Wah^,  -Ac. 

manifea^ted  no  kindred  affection  with  thi9  femaloi  but  WQuH^frnqfmDlJtf 
beat  and  ill-use  ber. 

**  Whilst  she  administered  to  him  the  refreshing  cup  of  kindnew,  be 
bestowed  on  her  mificry  in  return.  He  had  in  one  instance  given  way  t» 
his  natural  brutish  disposition,  by  ill-treating  the  being  who  had  done  so 
much  for  him, — ^when  he  was  on  the  verge  of  discovery,  indeed  had  hiaf 
self  given  up  all  hopes  of  escape,  when  she  again  saved  him,  by  engaging 
to  point  out  to  the  police  his  place  of  retreat,  and  absolutely  led  then 
away,  imder  that  pretence,  in  a  contrary  direction,  affording  her  panu 
mour  both  time  and  opportunity  to  seek  out  a  safer  asylum.  When  she 
arrived  with  the  police  at  the  spot  she  had  informed  them  he  lasft  wiia,  he 
of  course  was  not  there,  and  a  strict  search  in  the  vicinity  was  equalfy 
tmsuccessful :  she  then  left  them  to  continue  their  pursuit  after  the  cri- 
minal, pretending  to  know  nothing  further  respecting  him  or  his  place  of 
concealment.  At  last  he  was  captured  by  venturing  out  too  boldly  dur- 
ing her  absence,  was  tried,  condemned,  and  expiated  his  offences  on  the 
scaffold  at  Sydney. 

**  She  wished  to  follow  him,  on  hearing  he  was  a  prisoner:  but  that 
impossible :  so,  reclaimed  by  her  tribe,  she  was  obliged  to  become  an  un- 
willing wife  of  one  of  the  blacks.  It  is  but  two  well  known  in  what 
degradation  the  female  sex  are  held  among  savage  nations,  so  different 
from  the  deference  and  respect  so  justly  given  to  that  amiable  and  gentle 
portion  of  the  creation  in  civilized  life.  This  unfortunate  female  was 
ordered  by  her  husband,  whose  word  is  law,  to  follow  him,  at  a  time  when 
she  was  rendered  incapable  by  illness :  on  her  hesitating,  he  struck  her 
with  savage  barbarity  with  his  tomahawk  so  severely  over  the  head  and 
legs,  that  she  fainted  from  loss  of  blood.  She  was  roimd  lying  on  the 
gVound,  and  taken  to  the  house  of  a  settler  residing  on  the  banks  of  t)ie 
Mumimbidgee  river,  and  every  kindness  and  attention  shown  her;  hit 
after  lingering,  suffering  severe  mental  and  bodily  anguish,  she  expired.* 
— vol.  i.  pp.  248— 251. 

Mr.  Bennett  gives  an  animated  description  of  kangaroo  himtiilg. 
He  says^  that  when  dying,  oile  of  the^e  animab  wDuld  afttfd  a 
subject  worthy  of  the  pencil  of  Landdeer,  as  it  lies  prostrate  on  thtt 
ground,  where  but  a  few  minutes  before,  it  gami>olIed,  moaning 
piteously  under  the  fangs  of  the  hounds^  and  ite  eyes  dim  iritti 
tears.  '^  No  one  can  behold  the  tragic  scene  without  feeluig  paHfls 
of  regret,  as  the  dogs  worry  the  aniii^  until  the  hunter  dismcmnu, 
and  passing  his  knife  across  the  creature's  throat,  the  crimsoA 
stream  flows,  and  the  fixed  glassy  eye  indicates  the  terminatiou  4jf 
life."  The  part  most  esteemed  of  the  kangaroos  for  eating'  is  the 
loins ;  and  the  tail  which  abounds  in  gdiatine,  famishes  to  eKodkoit 
soup,  but  the  hind  legs  are  coarse,  and  usually  fall  to  the  dogs. 
-The  natives  give  a  preference  to  the  head.  But  their  females  uto 
not  allowed  to  eat  the  flesh  of  the  animal,  for  their  absolute'  ottd 
selfish  lords  say,  if  they  did,  "  our  dogs  would  die.*' 

**  Although  the  kangaroos  have  so  pretty  and  innocent  a  physiognomT, 
yet  when  attacked,  and  defending  themselves  in  the  '  strife  of  d«idv 
they  displav  a  fierceness  of  disposition  which  would  not  be  supposed  m>m 
their  gentle  nature.    The  '  old  man/  as '  a  full  grown  aaale  la^caliei  kjr 


ir«Mb?»€iM^t  in  Ne^  Smiih  WoUb,  t^c,  406 

tbe  odloiifSitB,*  n  rettUj  a  formidable  Opponent  when  at  bay,  eitber  for  man 
gr  djbfv ;  and  although  the  engagement  usually  terminates  against  the 
imftrttfiMkte  animal,  yet  the  struggle  is  often  violent  and  protracted  be- 
tore  Its  death  is  accomplished.  The  object  of  our  chase  stood  erect,  braving 
the  unequal  contest,  which  he  had  endeavoured  to,  but  could  not,  avoid  ; 
the  victory  was  strongly  disputed,  and  three  of  the  hounds  being  young, 
I  doubt  whether  it  would  have  terminated  in  their  favour,  as  they  began 
to  be  e!thausted,  when  the  overseer,  dismounting,  overturned  the  animal, 
end  keeping  its  hind  legs  down  with  his  utmost  strength,  the  dogs  at- 
tacked the  throat,  and  its  existence  was  soon  terminated. 

**  The  weight  of  this  animal  was  one  hundred  and  sixty  pounds.  On 
ihe  inn^r  side  of  each  knee-joint  I  observed  a  collection  of  several  hun- 
dreds of  worms,  long,  thin,  and  of  a  white  colour,  inclosed  in  a  cyst  of 
cellular  membrane,  through  which  they  could  be  seen.  It  was  situated 
external  to  the  knee-joint.  I  dissected  a  cyst  as  perfectly  as  possible,  and 
placed  them  in  spirits ;  at  the  same  time  regretting  that  I  had  no  means 
of  preserving  the  joint  with  the  cyst  attached,  entire.  Similar  worms  are 
said  to  exist  in  the  stomach  and  intestines  of  the  animal.  These  cysts,  I 
understand,  are  not  uncommon  ;  some  persons  have  asserted  that  they 
have  never  killed  a  kangaroo  without  them,  whilst  others  declare  they 
are  more  common  in  males  than  in  females,  and  are  found  in  two  kan- 
garoos out  of  three." — ^vol.  i.  pp.  292,  293. 

The  author  in  speaking  of  the  castor  oil  shrubs  {ricinus  com^ 
munis)  whicb  abounds  in  the  colony^  both  in  a  wild  and  cultivated 
fitate^  thriving  even  in  the  most  arid  soils,  states  that  the  oil  is  still 
imported  and  sold  in  the  colony  at  a  high  price,  when,  by  very 
little  attention,  anv  quantity  could  be  expressed  from  the  seeds. 
We  take  notice  of  tnis  particular  amongst  the  great  number  of 
ether  articles  pointed  out  in  this  work,  to  show  something  of  the 
bonndless  capabilities  which  Australia' possesses,  and  to  refer  to  the 
very  ^}parent  idea,  that  in  the  course  of  ages  that  country  may  be- 
come one  of  the  mostrenowned  in  the  world,  when  even  the  natives 
may  be  civilized  and  enlightened,  though  human  nature  be  one  of  the 
fiiost  irreclaim&ble  and  inti^ctable  objects  in  existence.  The  Abo- 
xjgines  in  the  districts  near  Sydney,  have  really  made  marvellously 
little  progress  in  knowledge  or  manners.  The  celebrated  King 
Btmgaaree,  it  is  w^  known,  and  his  tribe,  could  never  be  induced  to 
settle  and  cultivate  the  soil  for  subsistence.  ^'  It  is  related,"  says 
our  aQth<nr,  '^  that  there  was  an  attenapt  made,  during  the  govem- 
nuent  of  G«ne)ral  Mac^arie,  by  distributing  seeds  among  them^  to 
CDiice  them  to  industrious  habits.  Among  the  packets  of  seed  sent . 
iat  distribution  were  somie  which  contained  fish-hooks.  These  to- 
gethar  with  the  seeds  were  given  to  the  sable  monarch.  Some  time 
after  thi*,  the  governor,  inquired  of  him,  whether  the  seeds  had  yet 
come  up.  "  Oh, -berry  well,  berry  well,"  exclaimed  Dungaree,  «*all 
midce  come  up  berry  well,  eiLcept  dem  fish-hooks,  dem  no  com  up 

yet-*' 

This  anecdote,  however,  indicates  ignorance,  rather  than  dislike 
^  ^^iUxed  bftbits.     But  we  ouirselves  have  been  in  the  habit  of 

p  p  2 


406  Wanderings  in  New  South  Walei,  Jk. 

associating  with  an  officer  who  had  the  best  oppartamty  of  judabg^ 
of  the  natives  in  New  South  Wales,  and  he  has  often  declared  to 
us  that  of  several  who  for  a  length  of  time  enjoyed  his  ho9pitaliCv» 
care,  and  humane  exertions,  none  were  ever  so  weaned  from  tlieff 
original  modes  of  life,  but  that  they  would  leave  him,  run  off  to  the' 
woods,  denude  themselves  of  the  garments  they  had  been  wearing; 
and  submit  again  to  all  the  uncertainties  and  suflferings  of  an  un- 
settled and  savage  existence.  Nor  is  this  other  than  what  is  to  be 
expected  of  any  sudden  attempt  to  civilize  human  beings  so  de- 
graded as  they  have  long  been  in  almost  brutish  habits.  It  is  in- 
deed as  Hartley  observes  in  his  "  Essays  on  Man,**  he  is  brought 
to  any  thing  almost  sooner  than  to  change  his  habit  of  life,  espe- 
cially when  the  change  is  made  against  accustomed  induk^ences.  ''It 
is,"  he  says,  *^  the  most  difficult  thing  to  convert  men  n*om  vicious- 
habits  to  virtuous  ones,  as  every  one  may  Judge,  from  what  he  ft^ 
in  himself  as  well  as  from  what  he  sees  m  others.'*  And  as  Df.' 
^alev  adds,  in  reference  to  .  these  sentiments,  ''  it  is  almoiBt  ^Vkt 
makmg  men  over  again." 

In  the  course  of  the  first  volume  the  author  leaves  New  South, 
Wales.  But  though  we  have  followed  him  in  his  journey  therein, 
much  more  closely  than  we  can  afford  to  do  in  the  succeeding  part 
of  the  work,  we  have  not  touched  upon  one  tenth  of  the  interesting 
I^atter  therein  contained.  The  popular  form  in  which  he  treafai, 
every  subject. must  render  it  generally  acceptable  and  entertaining. 
We  may  add,  that  the  gossiping  style  in  which  he  introduces  what-' 
ever  he  sees,  or  whatever  he  thinks,  presents  in  almost  every  page,  a" 
distinct  subjeot,  so  that  it  mattei^s  Uttle  where  the  reader  opens 
the  work.  But  we  have  many  chapters  still  to  look  into,  connected 
with  other  parts  of  the  globe,  from  which  we  must  gather  a  ieW 
extracts. 

But,  ere  bidding  affinal  adieu  at  present  to  Botany  Bay,  it  may 
not  be  amiss  .to  let  the  author  repeat  an  anecdote,  with  which  the 
name  of  that  now  celebrated  place  is  connected. 

^  It  has  been  said  that  formerly  it  was  dangerous  in  Englaiid  to  inform 
a  fellow-traveller  of  having  just  arrived  from  Botany  Bay,  as  he  wiU  soop 
shun  your  acquaintance ;  but  visitors  from  that  country  must,  after  tli^ 
foUpwing  anecdote,  stand  a  worse  chance  in  the  celestial  empire.  A  sMp 
arriving  at  China  from  Australia*  the  commander,  when  asked  by  the 
Chinese  where  the  ship  came  from,  jocosely  answered,  *  From  New  South 
'Wales,  where  all  the  English  thieves  are  sent.*  The  inhabitants  of  th«F 
empire,  taking  the  joke  seriously,  reported  this  and  every  other  ship  whtoll 
arrived  from  that  country  to  the  mandarin  as  '  ship  from  thiefo  country 9 
one  thiefo  captain,  three  thiefo  officers,  twenty-five  thiefo  crew.*  •  Ani 
when  the  Hooghly  arrived  with  the  late  governor  of  New  South  Walea^ 
It  was — *•  One  thiefo  viceroy  of  thiefo  country,  with  several  thiefaa^ 
tendanU.' " — vol  i,  p.  342. 

Our  author's  passage  was  tedious  even  after  making  the  laliliidcf 
\rkva,  ere  arriving  at  Batavia,  a  city  where  the  rti^aaBs^  of  iltb^  ef 


WanderingM  in  New  South  W<uUy  Ss€.  407 

dead  ai^d  putrid  bodies  of  dogs,  hogs^  and  other  animals  that  float 
down  the  river  are  found  to  be  of  service  in  a  way  not  known  in 
^l0st  countries^  viz.  as  food  for  the  allegators^  which  are  there  pro- 
digiously numerous.  But  what  struck  Mr.  Bennett  particularly 
was,  that  the  native  convicts  were  working  up  to  the  waist  in  the 
water>  not  £Eir  from  these  voracious  crea^ures^  reposing  close  by,  like 
logs  on  the  surface  of  the  river,  without  fear  or  damage.  The 
reasons  given  for  their  security  are  either  that  the  allegators  are  . 
too  well  fed  on  the  offal  and  carcasses  that  float  from  the  city  to 
think 'of  other  objects,  or  that  they  have  a  respect  for  black  skins. 
But  we  must  go  forward  to  China,  for  there  a  few  highly  interesting 
matters  claim  our  particular  attention. 

The  ancient  colony  of  the  Portuguese,  Macao,  which  in  that  Ian-  - 
guage  signifies  a  mallet,  on  account  of  its  resemblance  to  such  an 
instrument  has  a  very  romantic  aspect  on  approaching  it  from  the 
sea.  Nature  and  art  have  combined  to  lend  it  a  picturesque  ap- 
pearance. The  streets,  however,  are  narrow,  baoly  paved,  and 
steep.  But  the  private  residences  of  the  Europeans  are  very  con* 
venient  and  spacious.  In  reference  to  the  commercial  facilities  of 
Macao^  though  the  harbour  be  spacious,  yet  such  is  the  jealousy  of 
the  Chinese  government  towards  Europeans,  that  only  twenty-five 
of  their  ships  are  permitted  to  anchor  in  it,  and  those  must  be  of 
the  Spanish  or  Portuguese  nations,  excepting  in  case  of  distress. 
Nearly  two  centuries  ago  permission  was  granted  by  the  authorities 
for  the  above  number  of  such  foreign  vessels ;  and  these  are  always 
regarded  by  this  extraordinarily  blinded  people  to  be  the  very  iden- 
ucal  ones  which  had  at  that  time  received  the  original  indulgence 
from  the  imperial  government.  Neither  are  any  individuals,  except 
{Portuguese  or  naturalised  descendants  of  that  nation  allowed  to  be 
owners  of  houses  at  Macao. 

Mr.  Bennett  visited  the  Casa  gardens,  celebrated  for  containing 
"  Caxnocn's.  Cave,"  the  spot  in  which  that  poet  wrote  the  Lusiad. 
It  is  not  correct,  however,  to  call  it  a  cave^  it  being  merely  masses 
of  granite  rocks  piled  one  over  the  other,  forming  a  kind  of  arch- 
way. The  situation  is  delightfully  surrounded  by  umbrageous  trees 
and  overhanging  shrubs,  together  with  other  objects  that  could  not 
iail  to  excite  and  perfect  poetical  imaginations.  But  the  greaet 
object  of  attraction  at  Macao,  is  the  splendid  aviary  and  gardens 
of  T.  Beale,  Esq.  who  devotes  his  leisure  moments  to  the  care  and 
delight  connected  with  the  brilliant  and  elegant  productions  of. 
nature  in  the  animal  as  weU  as  in  the  vegetable  kingdom.  The  first 
one  described,  is  that  "  aerial  creature"  the  Paradise  Bird.  It  is 
a  &ie  male,  and  was,  when  the  author  beheld  it,  arrayed  in  his 
fall  and  gorgeous  plumage.  He  is  inclosed  in  a  lar^e  and  roomy 
cage,  so  as  not  to  occasion  injury  to  his  delicate  dress.  It  was 
then  nine  years  since  it  had  come  into  Mr.  Beale's  possession, 
vet  it  does  not  exhibit  the  appearance  of  age,  but  is  lively  and 
iie^mmr.    The  sounds  he  utters  resemble  somewhat  the  cawmg  of 


408  Wanderings  in  New  South  Wrie$,  9fC. 

a  raven,  but  changes  to  a  varied  scale^  nB  hey  hi,  ho,  hate,  rtspoatied 
frequently  and  rapidly.  The  length  of  the  Paradise  bird  19  usually 
two  feet,  measuring  from  the  bill  to  the  tip  of  the  side  fea&ms^ 
But  we  must  insert  part  of  the  author's  descriptioit  of  the  indtvidnttl 
specimen  at  Macao,  without  abridgement. 

"  The  neck  of  this  bird  is  of  a  beautiful  and  deHcste  cansr^  y^olr 
colour,  blending  gradually  into  the  fine  chocolate  colour  of  the  otii«r  pMl 
of  the  body ;  the  wings  are  very  short  and  of  a  chocolate  colour.  Uliderft 
neath  them,  long  delicate  and  gold-coloured  feathers  proceed  fnua  tiie 
sides  in  two  beautiful  and  graceful  tufts,  extending  far  beyond  tbe  tsit« 
which  is  also  short,  of  a  chocolate  colour,  with  two  very  long  sliafts  of  th0 
same  hue  proceeding  from  the  uropigium.  At  the  base  of  Sbie  mandibles 
the  delicate  plamage  has  during  one  time  (according  as  the  rays  of  light 
are  thrown  upon  it)  the  appearance  of  fine  black  velvet,  and  at  another  a 
very  dark  green,  which  contrasts  admirably  with  the  bright  emerald  of  the 
throat.  There  is  nothing  abrupt  or  gaudy  in  the  plumage  of  this  bird; 
the  colours  harmonize  in  the  most  elegant  manner,  and  the  chasteness 
does  not  fail  of  exciting  our  admiration.  The  mandibles  are  of  a  light 
blue  ;  irides  bright  yellow ;  and  the  feet  of  a  lilac  tint. 

*'  This  elegant  creature  has  a  light,  playful  and  graeeful  manner,  tlidi 
an  arch  and  impudent  look ;  dances  about  when  a  visitor  approaoheB  the 
cage,  and  seems  delighted  at  being  made  an  object  of  admiration.  Dorag 
four  months  of  the  year,  from  May  to  August,  it  moults.  It  washes  itself 
regularly,  twice  a  day,  and  after  having  peribrmed  its  ablations^  thtowS 
its  delicate  feathers  up  nearly  over  the  head,  the  quills  of  which  feathers 
have  a  peculiar  structure,  so  as  to  enable  the  bird  to  effect  this  object. 
Its  food  during  confinement  is  boiled  rice,  mixed  up  with  soft  e^,  toge- 
ther with  plaintains,  and  living  insects  of  the  grasshopper  tribe ;  these 
insects  when  thrown  to  him,  the  bird  contrives  to  catch  m  his  beak  widi 
great  celerity ;  it  will  eat  insects  in  a  living  state,  but  will  not  toudi  theift 
when  dead. 

"  I  observed  the  bird  previously  to  eating  a  grasshopper,  given  him  in  as 
entire  or  unmutilated  state,  place  the  insect  upon  the  perch,  keep  it  femly 
fixed  with  the  claws,  and  divesting  it  of  the  legs,  wings,  &c.  devour  it, 
with  the  head  always  placed  first.  The  servant  who  attends  upon  hiss  to 
clean  the  cage,  give  him  food,  &c.  strips  off  the  legs,  wings^  &c.  df  tiie  li^ 
sects  when  alive,  giving  them  to  the  bird  as  fast  as  he  can  devour*  tbea* 
It  rarely  alights  upon  the  ground,  and  so  proud  is  the  creature  of  ila  ele« 
gant  dress  that  it  never  permits  a  soil  to  remain  upon  it,  and  it  may  frs* 
quently  be  seen  spreading  out  its  wings  and  feathers,  and  regarding  its 
splendid  self  in  every  direction,  to  observe  whether  the  whole  of  its  plu- 
mage Is  in  an  unsullied  condition.  It  does  not  suSer  from  the  cold  weather 
during  the  winter  season  at  Macao,  though  exposing  the  elegant  bird  to  the 
bleak  northerly  wind  is  always  very  particularly  avoided.  Mr.  Beale  isTnr 
desirous  of  procuring  a  living  female  specimen  of  this  bird,  to  endeavour,  if 
possible,  to  breed  them  in  his  aviary." — vol.  ii.  pp.  41—48. 

The  aviary  is  forty  ket  in  length  by  twentj  in  breadth^  and  proba- 
bly thirty  or  forty  in  height.     Large  trees  and  various  sbrupa  ai9 
planted  for  the  convenience  of  the  inhabitants ;  in  the  bnoicbea  of 
'  the  former,  small  baskets^  as  nasts,  are  plac^  for  such  hirda  M 


Wi^mieringis  in  New  Sonth  Wales,  SfC,  40p 

hSId  in  trees^  imd  in  those  places^  many  of  the  inhabitmits  have 
bem  bom  and  reared.  Near  a  tank  filled  with  water^  a  quantity  cf 
artificial  rock-work  is  constructed  for  birds  of  another  class.  In 
this  sopiety  it  is  necQssBry  to  have  certain  strict  laws^  as  well  as 
means  of  subsistence. 

4-  '*It  may  cevtainly  be  said,  that  all  the  pets  look  full  of  life,  and  happy 
and  contented  in  their  aituationB :  tbey  chirps  siug>  wash,  feed,  are  merry, 
and  hOEving  abundance  of  room,  their  plumage  looks  healthy  and  beautiful,  sa 
uvlikc  the  dirty  ragged  appearance  t£ey  soon  exhibit  when  kept  in  a  close, 
confined  place,  which  in  a  short  period,  brings  on  disease,  and  eventually 
death.  Here  they  can  wash  themselves  every  morning,  and  they  appear 
always  eager  to  perform  their  natural  ablutions :  their  unsullied  plums^, 
the  song  or  twitter  of  delight  with  which  they  reward  their  benefactor, 
show  how  happy  and  contented  they  are  in  their  confinement. 

*'  In  the  aviary  are  separate  cages,  erected  for  the  purpose  of  inclosing 
such  of  the  males  of  any  of  the  species,  as  may  have  their  combative  organs 
in  too  high  a  degree  of  excitement ;  the  punishment  for  such  troublesome 
characters  is  therefore  in  the  first  place,  solitary  confinement,  and  should 
they  not  be  reformed  under  that  treatment,  they  are  finally  dismissed  the 
aviary  as  incorrigibles, 

"  It  is  delightful  to  yisit  the  aviary  at  a  very  early  hour  in  the  morning, 
wh^  the  whole  of  the  inhabitants  are  in  the  greatest  confusion,  the  ser- 
yajits  bnsUy  engaged  in  cleaning  the  habitation,  and  giving  supplies  of 
Ibod  to  the  colony ;  the  plumy  people  appear  in  the  plentitude  of  their  hap- 
fpineta;  hopping  from  branch  to  branch,  or  running  along  the  ground,  their 
little  throats  strain  with  harmony ;  the  soft  cooing  of  the  numerous  pigeon 
tribe  is  beard  as  well  as  the  quacking  sounds  of  the  duck  tribe,  who  arfe 
lifj^  gift^  with  a^y  p^oie  harmonipus  notjes.  It  is  at  this  tim^  that  we 
^saA  ^lao  f^b^erve  the  q|i^ruloi|s  disposition  of  these  animals.  The  males  of 
.fop  aad  the  same  kin4>  or  of  dififerent  species,  endeavour  to  grasp  all  th^ 
supplies  for  themselves,  unmindful  of  the  wants  of  others,  and  will  not  per- 
IQit  thejbr  egmpanionis  to  perform  their  ablutions  without  molestation,  al- 
though they  may  have  themselves  completed  what  they  required.  I  qftep 
observed  the  mandarine  ducks  excite  the  drakes  to  attack  other  males  or 
iemales  of  the  same  species  as  well  as  any  other  kind  of  bird  (not  too  pow- 
erful) in  the  aviary^  against  whom  the  lady  may  have  taken  a  dislike  from 
sooiA  cause  or  causes  unknown  to  us ;  there  always  appears  to  be  one  pair 
who  exer^se  a  tyranny  over  the  others,  not  permitting  them  to  wash,  eat, 
-er  drink,  unless  at  the  pleasure  of  these  little  autocrats. 

"As  the  shades  of  evening  dose  in,  the  aviary  is  again  in  a  bustle,  the 
bbds  setting  themselves  in  their  various  roosting  places  for  the  night,  and 
•keeping  up  a  continual  chattering  until  the  whole  colony  is  buried  in 
-ttlence  and  hidden  in  darkness.  The  Paradise  bird  then  sits  tranquilly 
^pon  bis  perch,  and  no  more  greets  the  stranger,  but  stares  in  stupid 
^wtoaaemetkt  at  the  late  visit.  The  cages  of  this  and  the  other  birds  in  tlus 
verandah  are  ve^y  carefully  covered  up  at  night  to  protect  them  from  cats, 
or  any  other  midnight  prowlers. 

'*  it  oncehiappenedf durkig  a  total  eclipse  of  the  sun,  as  the  luminary  be- 
'came  overshaded,  the  *  feathered  oolony,'  if  not  in  a  consternation  at  the 
'erMi,  WAS  exeeediag}y  pUzzleid  at  the  rapid  and  unusual  termination  of  the 
"^a^^ and 41} letired  su^p^rle^  tp  bed;  they  received  however,  a  second 


410  Watidermgt  in  New  SmUk  Waki,  fyc. 

surprise  at  the  brightness  of  the  night,  for  before  th^y  could  be  well 

the  cocI(8  crowed  at  the  re-appearance  of  the  luminary,  and  they  agam  re- 

sumed  their  daily  amusements  and  occupations." — vol.  ii,  pp.  51 — 54. 

We  never  read  any  new  account  of  the  Chinese  without  feeling 
that  their  singularity  among  the  human  kind  is  greater  than  we  had 
previously  conceived.  This  impression  is  much  more  definitively 
conveyed  by  a  statement  of  simple  facts^  than  by  any  process  of 
reasoning  or  theory.  For  instance,  we  learn  from  the  author,  that 
every  thing  is  sola  by  weight  in  that  empire.  Dogs,  cats,  rats^ 
living  and  dead;  with  fowls^  ducks,  and  other  kinds  of  poultry;  as 
well  as  living  eels  and  carp,  &c.  in  buckets  of  water. 

"  Every  thing  living  or  dead,  organic  or  inorganic,  is  sold  by  weight  in 
this  celestial  country,  whether  it  be  fruit  or  ballastones,  oil  or  vegetables, 
living  dogs  or  pigs,  cats  or  poultry,  they  are  all  purchased  by  the  calty. 
The  dogs  and  pussies  are  highly  esteemed  by  the  Chinese,  who  convert 
them  into  delicious  (according  to  their  organs  of  taste)  bow-wow  soap,  and 
rich  pussy  broth.  A  Chinese  does  not  appear  to  have  any  idea  of  measore- 
ment,  for  one  was  asked  whether  we  should  have  much  wind — *  Yes, 
plenty  catties  of  wind,  by,  by,  come  ;^ — and  when  some  gentlemen  were 
taking  observations  of  the  sun,  the  Chinese  observed  upon  them,  that — 
"  they  were  weighing  the  sun." — vol.  ii,  pp.  87—88. 

We  here  only  make  the  obvious  remark^  that  the  absurdity  of  these 
notions  can  only  be  proved  by  giving  us,  what  are  the  ideas  wbick 
these  people  attach  to  the  words  catty  and  weight.  But  not  to 
dwell  on  this,  it  would  appear,  that  as  gardeners,  notwithstaodiiig 
their  boastful  pretensions,  their  first-rate  nursery  gardens,  in  so  tax 
as  the  author's  opportunities  led  him  to  judge,  are  inferior  to  the 
worst  specimens  of  the  sort  to  be  met  with  in  any  of  the  provincial 
towns  of  Great  Britain.  Still,  their  trifling  artificial  attempts  axe 
even  in  such  places  apparent.  For  instance,  the  small  trees  of  the 
finger  citron  sort,  had  the  curious  fruit  of  that  tree  tied  upon  them, 
to  look  as  if  they  were  really  growing  and  in  their  original  field. 
Some  part  of  their  ingenuity  may  be  learned  from  what  follows  :— - 

"  The  Chinese  procure  the  dwarf  orange  trees,  laden  with  fruit,  by  s^ 
lecting  a  branch  of  a  larger  tree  upon  which  there  may  he  a  good  supply  of 
fruit :  the  cuticle  being  detached  from  one  part  of  the  branch,  is  plastered 
over  with  a  mixture  oi  clay  and  straw,  until  roqts  are  given  out  when  th^ 
branch  is  cut  ojff*,  planted  in  a  pot  and  thus  forms  a  dwarf  tree  laden  with 
fruit.  Other  means  are  adopted  to  give  the  trunk  and  bark  an  appearance 
of  age,  and  these,  with  the  dwarf  bunboos  and  other  trees,  must  certainly 
be  regarded  as  the  principal  Chinese  vegetable  curiosities.  As  far  as  gar- 
dening or  laying  out  a  garden  is  concerned,  these  people  possess  any  tfaii^ 
but  the  idea  of  beauty  or  true  taste,  neither  being  in  the  least  degree  at- 
tended to  in  the  aiTangement  of  their  gardens,  every  thing  bears  the  seoi^ 
blance  of  shift,  being  awkward  and  peirifeptly  unnatoral.  To  distort  natovey 
a  Chinese  seems  to  think  the  attainment  of  peff6CtiQn.''*-vol.  ii,  pp. 
89—90. 

Our  readers  from  these  numerous  extracts  can  easily  appieeiabe 
the  value  of  Mr.  Bennett's  work.     We  do  not  say  we  havo  given 


AnMi^maUcf  Puerto  kieo.  411 

Ae  best  specimens  of  it,  but  we  are  sure  they  are  fair;  and  these 
exhibit  him  as  being  an  active^  cheerful^  and.  communicative  man. 
It  is  perfectly  evident  from  what  our  readers  here  find,  that  he  is 
apt  to  put  down  every  thing  that  strikes,  and  as  it  strikes  himself, 
without  much  selection,  or  even  care  in  the  description  of  his  ideas. 
Ko  d6ubt  he  bespeaks  our  indulgence  on  account  of  his  haste  and 
othet  particulars.  This  is  not  a  satisfactory  mode  of  avoiding  re-^ 
sponsibihty  to.  the  public,  or  excusing  insufficient  work.  At  the 
same  time,  nothing  can  be  more  clear  than  that  the  author  is  an 
honest  narrator,  nay  that  more  care,  condensation,  and  polish, 
would  have  shorn  his  statements  of  their  freshness  and  truth.  In 
going  over  these  extracts  our  readers  may,  like  us,  wonder  why  h^ 
did  not  often  cull,  alter,  or  balance  better,  the  mere  arrangement  of 
his  ideas,  much  more  his  phraseology;  and  this,  opinion  would  be 
much  strengthened  were  every  chapter  at  length  before  them,  as  they 
have  been  before  us.  Still,  we  repeat  that  the  result  andefiect  of 
the  work  is  good  gossiping  reading  for  the  generality,  and  the 
lightest  possible  for  the  enlightened  naturalist. 


'Art.  XI — An  Accotmt  of  the  Present  State  of  the  Island  of  Puerto 
'  RicOf  ^c.  By  Colonel  Flintbb.  8vo.  pp  392.  London :  Longman  & 
'    Co.  Id34. 

The  author  professes  in  the  preface  to  be  particularly  exempt 
from  prejudices  and  party  spirit,  and  to  undertake  from  humane 
motives  to  lay  before  the  public  his  observations  on  the  condition  of 
the  free-eoloured  and  slave  population  in  the  West  India  colonies  of 
Spain,  which  are  the  result,  as  he  tells  us,  of  twenty-one  years' 
experience  in  that  quarter  of  the  world.  He  has  visited  the 
colonies  and  establishments  of  all  the.  European  nations  on  the 
American  continent  and  in  the  West  Indies,  as  well  as  the  republic 
oT  the  United  States,  Both  on  the  continent  and  in  the  islands  he 
lias^possessed  landed  property  and  slaves.  His  leisure  hours  from 
Ms  first  landing  as  a  British  Officer  in  the  West  Indies  twenty-one 
>|rears  ago,  down  to  a  late  period  when  he  has  been  doing  duty  on  the 
staff  of  the  Spanish  army  which  garrisons  the  colonies  of  Her  Most 
Catholic  Majesty,  have  been  dedicated  to  the  acquimtion  of  every 
information  that  could  throw  light  on  the  colonial  policy  of  Spain. 
He  therefore  considers  himself  fitted  to  present  facts  worthy  pf  the 
iHitice  of  those  who  require  ascertained  and  practical  truths  to  direct 
tbeir  judgmoit.  His  principal  object,  however,  is  to  make  known 
4he  great  and  growing  importance  of  the  colonies  that  remain  to 
Spun  in  the  western  hemisphere,  and  especially  of  the  valuable  and 
Itotile  island  of  Puerto  Rico,  which  with  Cuba  alone  of  the  West 
India  islands  now  belong  to  her,  although  she  was  the  discoverer  and 
rtUk'XMt  time  tibe  mistress  of  the  greater  part  of  the  new  world.    To 


saggeit  imprarementa  in  the  management  pf  these  cokmiesy  and  to 
recommena  the  speedy  recognition  of  the  independence  of  the  Soodl 
American  republics^  are  also  principal  objects  of  the  book.  Besidei^ 
to  exhibit  the  character  of  the  colonial  ^vernment  of  Spain^  vhidi 
he  sa^s  is  singularly  paternal,  and  to  point  ou€  the  operatioiit  of  tke 
Spanish  Slave  Code,  not  on^  in  protecting  the  bondman  bom  Oj^ 

Session,  but  in  preparing  him  for  final  emancipation,  which  he  also 
glares  to  be  beneficent,  are  prominent  features  wUch  he  has  had 
in  view.-  Nor  does  he  fear  to  maintain  that  he  can  demonstrate  the 
mighty  advantages  of  free  over  slave  labour,  as  respects  security, 
economyi  and  productiveness. 

In  aU  these  part^ctdars  we  must  give  it  as  our  opinion,  that  he  has 
succeeded  beyond  what  were  our  anticipations  on  glancing  at  the 
|Nre&ce.  Ther^  is  doubtless  about  Colonel  Flinter  a  strong  admirar 
tion  of  what  is  Spanish,  which  we  the  more  easily  can  allow,  when 
we  understand  how  close  his  domestic  alliance  has  become  witll 
Spaniards.  But  he  also  deals  in  facts  which  we  have  no  reason  to 
suppose  exaggerated,  though  perhaps  there  is  a  tendency  in  him  to 
see  only  the  fetirest  side  of  every  thing  which  serves  his  argu- 
xaents«  Indeed  we  were  hardly  prepared  to  hear  so  much  advanced 
in  behalf  of  Spanish  kindness  to  the  slaves  as  is  here  set  down,  bear- 
ing in  mind,  as  nf  as  f^aturaliwbat  is  oq  record  of  that  nation'^  cruelty 
to  the  natives  on  their  first  colonisation  of  America  and  th^  West 
Indies;— and  also,  whilst  we  know  that  the  slave  trade  is  still  a 
(favourite  traffic  with  their  planters  in  Cuba  and  Puerto  Rico.-  In^ 
4eed  th9  author  recommends  to  the  government  of  Her  Catholie 
MajestYj  immediat^y  to  dpve  from  the  port^  of  Cuba  bc^^k  to  t^ 
coast  or  Afric^jt  every  slave  ship  with  its  cargo  that  might  be  cap- 
tiered  by  .the  q^iis^rs  of  France  or  Engli^nd.  Puerto  Rico  is  an 
pla^d  i^if;^  nrhjch  we  in  this  country  a^e  but  imperfectly  acquainted^ 
BJD^  on  tb^M:  aqcpunt  If ^  niust  be  considerably  strupk  with  manV 
tj^g^  ^ontaiaej}  in  this  volume,  Mrl^ich  lenter^  yenr  fully  in^  its  pa/B 
|md  present  ^tate,  as  al^o  into  its  prospects  and  capab^ities.  A^ 
fi^  fnad  for  the  space  of  three  centuries  after  its  disppvery,  »dtwith^ 
standing  bH  the  a&antages  of  soil  and  situation^  which  nfitur^  hw  40 
^ijlblj  bestoired  on  this  island,  it  was  oonsiderad  only  as  a  pbM0 
of  baui/ai|iu^ut  fof  the  male&ctors  of  (he  mother  coontry.  9vt  im 
181$,  a  IPysl  deqree  was  passed,  fraught  with  beneficent  and  o^ 
lighti^^  yiev^s  reqpectipg  its  populiitiau,  Qommeroe^  industry,  and 
^gripultoi^f  The  consequences  have  been,  as  the  fiuthor  asf erfif, 
equaT  tp  th^  most  sanguine  hopes.  Amongst  others,  floorisfaii^ 
towns  SAd  $»nil}ing  yiUages  have  risen,  as  if  by  magici  where  gfgaA* 
tic  trees  of .  t}ie  tropio^  fpirest  a  few  yeaps  f^go^  stood  in  {vimeyiil 

Samlsur  9  th^  populationhasri^dly  inp]:eased,  audinpqint  pf  indi^gim- 
lOee  Hftd  oou^Go^,.^  c}a^4e#  have  ^dyanp^  wondrqiisly«  In  f  h^ 
ipe  are  told  that  pf  cpntinents  or  isl^uds,  no  pli^  oflbrs  s^h  9^3if§^ 
tageous  prospects  to  settlers  as  Puerto  fUco.  I^t  ve  mwU^f^SW 
tibe  author  more  closely  and  minutdy  in  some  of  the  chapt^a 
which  his  work  is  divided. 


Am  Acc9u$i  (sfPmH^  Jljco.  414 

Wd  leara  that  Puerto  Rioo  is  about  nivety  nileft  m  leagth^  l^ 
tittrty-three  in  average  breadth^  containmg  a  superficies  of  2^970 
square  miles.  It  was  discovered  by  Columbus  in  1493.  It  is  eon* 
tigoeos  to  all  the  English  and  French  windward  islands;  it  is  only 
a  few  hoars'  sail  from  the  Danish  islands  of  St.Thomas  and  St.  Cvaat^ 
and  a  few  days'  sail  from  the  United  States  of  America.  It  is  a 
fertile  and  enchanting  spot,  presenting  to  the  European  voyagex  in 
winter^'  a  land  equal  to  the  febled  regions  of  eternal  spring.  Its 
mountains,  when  compared  with  the  general  aspect  of  the  other  West 
India  islands^  are  lofty  and  picturesque ;  the  streams  are  numerous, 
and  the  plains  cultured  and  tnicldy  inhabited.  Altogether^ 
Puerto  Rico  exhibits  both  by  its  nature  and  improvements  the 
highest  inducements  to  settlers.  It  may  be  added,  that  the  oUmatci 
is  more  salubrious  than  that  of  the  adjacent  islands,  which  is  no 
doubt  partly  owing  to  the  absence  of  stagnant  wa^er,  and  the  abufu 
dance  of  running  streams. 

But  let  us  come  to  the  state  of  society  in  this  much  lauded  island; 
acid  here  we  lihaU  permit  the  author  to  speak  for  himselfj  without 
abridgement. 

"The  person  who  carries  into  foreign  countries  national  habits  and  pre-* 
judices,  win  always  find  abundant  room  for  ridicule  and  criticism.  There 
is  no  people  on  earth  who  have  not  some  peculiaritieB  in  their  mannen  and 
dostoms,  which  at  first  sight  appear  odd  to  a  stranger.  Whoever  panwea 
tiie  satirical  pamphlets  entitled  '  Six  Weeks  in  Paris/  by  an  Engluhxnan, 
and  the  '  Fifteen  Days  in  London/  written  by  a  Frenchman  in  revenge^ 
without  being  acquainted  with  the  French  and  English  cuatom^i  WQuld 
suppose  both  these  nations  to  be  ridiculously  barbaroua  a^d  auti-aocia}. 
A  stranger  who  had  never  riaited  Spain  or  ber  colonies,  on  reading  the 
prejudi^  and  false  descriptions  given  of  them  by  mfoiy  modem  wnterSi, 
would  dread  to  sleep  a  single  night  among  the  inhabitants.  But  the  writer 
who  honestly  aims  at  fiinushiog  the  pubUc  with  sound  and  accurate  infer- 

Sation,  should  divest  himself  of  all  illiberal  and  narrow  prepossessions, 
e  should  look  on  the  whole  world  as  his  country/  and  on  all  mankind  as 
his  countrymen. 

"Rome,  tiie  greatest  empire  of  the  world,  was  first  peopled  by  rebl^nni 
and  assassins.  It  need  not,  therefore,  appear  strange  that  this  island  should 
have  received  a  part  of  her  white  inhabitants  fixun  the  dregs  of  society,  aS 
well  as  some  from  the  higher  classes.  This,  perhaps,  has  ha|q[)eBed  i^  tbQ 
first  colonization  of  almost  all  countries.  It  is  only  by  wise  laws  and  sa* 
ftitutions,  vigorously  enforced,  that  the  criminal  can  be  converted  into  a 
gpod  subject. 

"This  island  was  formerly  only  a  military  post;  and  the  troops  that 
l^urrisoned  it  were  stationary.  Tlie  officers,  despairing  of  returning  tQ 
fSurope,  married  with  the  Creole  ladies,  many  oi  whoin,  proud  of  desoend" 
ixig  from  the  first  conquerors,  were  considered  noble.  In  this  manner  the 
officers,  becoming  at  once  soldiers  and  agriculturists,  looked  on  PuertQ 
Rico  as  their  home;  and  they  and  their  children  form  a  considerable  part 
'  of  the  white  population  that  is  this  day  found  here.  Many  of  the  most 
epulent  and  respectable  families  descend  from  them.  Iney  look  back 
t4tll  pride  to  thw  origin,  and  they  form  an  indissoluble  link  of  connezMi 


414  Ah  AccowU  of  Puerto  Rico, 

with  the  mother  country.  These  and  the  descendants  from  tiie  coMoeron 
form  what  may  be  called  the  Puerto  Rico  arbtocracy,.  ^d  some  oi  them 
support  their  pretensions  with  as  much  pride  as  if  tliey  were  grandees  of 
Spain:  even  in  the  midst  of  poverty  they  are  inexorable  in  exacting  from 
their  inferiors  the  homage  paid  to  superior  rank.  The  achieYements  of 
their  great  grandfathers  are  often  cited  as  a  title  to  personal  respect. 

^'Merchants,  shopkeepers,  and  ail  the  inferior  branches  of  traders  and 
mechanics,  have  more  or  less  contributed  to  the  white  population.  The' 
merchants  of  this  island  import  and  retail  their  own  goods.  They  are 
generally  composed  of  the  active  and  industrious  Catalans,  who,  perseveriiii^i 
and  economical,  are  much  attached  to  their  native  customs  and  native  land. 
They  seldom  marry,  or  establish  themselves  permanently  in  the  colonies. 
When  they  have  realized  a  competency,  they  retire  to  Europe  to  enjoy  thie 
firuits  of  their  industry,  while  their  place  is  generally  supplied  by  their 
young  relations,  who  follow  the  same  occupation  and  the  same  line  of 
conduct.  They  may  therefore  be  considered  rather  as  transient  visitoni  • 
than  as  a  permanent  part  of  the  popnlatioD. 

"  Tradesmen  and  artizans  generally  marry  and  establish  themselves  per-"^ 
manently.    This  class  of  people^  such  as  smiths,  carpenters,  coc^)eiB»  te., 
are  sure  of  doing  weU,  if  they  conduct  themselves  with  propriety.     I  knesr  • 
two  blacksmiths  who  have  made  fortunes:  and  I  know  an  Irish  carpenter 
who  a  few  years  ago  came  to  this  island  with  only  twenty  dollarSj  and  vlio . 
in  the  space  of  five  years  has  become  possessed  of  property  to  the  valae  of 
20,000  dollars,  which  he  acquired  by  a  sedulous  attention  to  his  business: 
such  is  the  rapid  accumulation  of  capital  by  industry  in  these  oountnes,- 
The  acquisition  of  property  raises  the  blacksmith  and  the  carpenter  to  a 
higher  rank  in  society:  they  become  laud-proprietors,  and  conaequentilj. 
associate  with  the  aristocracy,  before  whom  they  formerly  bent  with 
humility."— pp.  63—66 

These^  however,  the  Colonel  declares,  are  not  the  only  dasses  to 
be  found  in  this  blessed  island. 

*  "  Beware,  people  of  Puerto  Rico,  when  you  see  a  foreigner  land  on  your 
shores,  grandly  dressed,  with  his  whole  equipage  under  his  arm,  without  a 
servant — ^introducing  himself  as  a  marquis,  a  baron,  the  son  of  a  great 
banker,  or  a  famous  geueral — ^be  sure,  although  he  says  he  is  merely  tnK 
veiling  to  observe  men  and  things,  he  is  only  a  sharper,  badly  disgoisedi- 
who  comes  with  an  intentioii  of  making  your  property  his  prey,  and  lavgb^ 
ing  at  you  for  your  folly.  This  happens  every  day.  Other  chevaliers  de 
I'industiie,  who  do  a  great  deid  of  harm,  are  the  barbers  of  Franoe  and  the 
colonies,  who  have  the  insolence  to  come  to  practise  medicine,  ignarant 
even  of  the  first  principles  of  the  art.  They  generally  announce  tfaem-^' 
selves  as  physicians  just  arrived  from  Paris ;  and  many  valuable  lives  have 
been  sacrificed  to  their  empiricism  and  ignorance,  lliese  men  are  easily 
distinguished  from  those  of'  real  pretensions.  The  island  is  every  when 
swarming  with  them." — p.  66. 

The  author  goes  on  to  say,  that  the  only  useful  portion  of  fbreigii* 
ers,  are  those  engaged  m  agriculture  and  commerce,  who  have 
property  of  their  own;  a  truth  so  self  evident  that  he  might  have 
spared  himself  the  trouble  of  repeating  it.  But  we  hence  gather 
that  there  are  some  considerable  exceptions  to  the  Utopian  charac-. 


An  Account  of  Puerto  Rico,  415 

ter  cf  -Pa^rto  Itibo.  The  PlumaiuK  are  another  blot'  to  its  taking 
name ;  these  are  scribes,  but  not  regular  bred  lawyers ;  "a  very 
naischievous  set  of  men.**  Nay,  "they  often  defend  both  parties  at 
the  same  time."  And  "how  many  unfortunate  men  have  been 
condemned  to  drag  a  chain,  who  have  deserved  it  a  thousand  times 
l^^a'than  these  men,  who  like  a  swarm  of  locusts  desolate  the  land 
where  they  alight." 

From  these  sentenices  within  inverted  commas^  our  readers  will 
perceive  that  the  Colonel  is  a  well-meaning  but  somewhat  simple- 
minded  person,  who  is  npt  always  loaded  with  original  matter. 
These  are  cmalities  of  mind,  however,  not  at  all  incompatible  with 
candour  and  integrity  of  principle ;  quite  the  contrary,  and  there- 
fore we  rely  with  the  more  confidence  on  manv  of  his  otner  doctrines. 
Yet  we  opine  that  our  author's  philanthropy  has  thrown  in  some  co- 
louring to  the  following  picture,  although  it  proceeds  on  certain  fea- 
sible and  natural  characteristics  of  humanity. 

**  The  last  class  of  whites  which  1  have  to  describe  require  a  separate 
and  particular  consideration,  as  they  form  no  inconsiderable  portion  of 
those  who  have  colonized  this  island.  These  are  men  who,  for  political 
or  civil  crimes,  have  been  sent  to  the  galleys  of  this  fortress.  They  are 
condemned  for  different  periods,  according  to  the  nature  of  their  offences  : 
at  the  expiration  of  their  term  of  punishment  they  are  set  at  liberty,  and 
few  of  them  have  any  inducement  to  return  to  their  native  country.  If 
their  conduct  is  good,  their  former  faults  are  soon  forgotten :  if  active 
and  industrious,  they  soon  find  employment.  They  are  looked  on  with 
pity,  rather  than  with  detestation.  To  be  white  is  a  species  of  title  of 
nobility  in  a  country  where  the  slaves  and  people  of  colour  form  the 
I^wer  ranks  of  society,  and  where  every  grade  of  colour,  ascending  from 
the  jet-black  negro  to  the  pure  white,  carries  with  it  a  certain  feeling  of 
superiority.  -We  might  naturally  expect  to  find  society  and  manners  in 
flibate  degree  tinctured  with  the  vices  and  propensities  of  these  convicts : 
if  19  difficult  to  imagine  how  they  could  be  so  quickly  cleansed  of  the 
mcftHl  tu^itude  which  must  inhabit  the  minds  of  men  degraded  in  the 
soiale  of  Human  nature.  It  is  something  novel  and  extraordinary  to  see 
nieii  who  had  been  dn^ging  a  criminal's  chain,  and  been  associated  with 
the  basest  of  mankind,  on  a -sudden  becoming  peaceable  and  orderly 
dozens.  In  a  circle  of  society  comparatively  hmall,  where  a  great  num- 
ber of  such  characters*  are  incorporated,  the.  continual  commission  of 
erinie  would  naturally  be  anticipated :  nevertheless,  quite  the  contrary  is 
here  the  case.  Those  mien,  removed  for  from  the  scene  of  their  former 
offerees — far  from  the  vigilant  and  persecuting  eye  of  th^  laws  they  had 
outRtged;  and  the  persons  they  had  offended — ^removed  far  beyond  the 
view^of  the  relatives  and  friends  they  had  dishonoured,  feel  desirous  of 
returning  to  the  bosom  of  society,  in  a  country  where  their  persons  and 
tbeircrimes  are  unknowns  The  Creoles  of  Puerto  Rico,  ever  ready  to 
eKtend  their  arms  to  the  unfortunate,  ever  generous  and  hospitable,  have 
their  sympathy  doubly  awakened  at  seeing  a  white  man  reduced  to  a  state 
of  misery  greater  than  that  of  the  African  slave.  The  moment  that  the 
banished  criminal  sets  his  foot  on  the  land  of  Puerto  Rico,  a  proapect  of 
hope  opens  to  his  view.    He  beholds  many  of  those  who  had  preceded  him 


aerinle  teatoied  io  society,  pcweariog  |»topefft^»  lai  fiViEgin  tte  hmtm 
of  their  fEuniliea:  Ihi^i  6adtiii|)l^,  this  hope^  k  a  stroQg  inducemest  to  good 
condiiel.  Man  is  the  child  of  circumstances :  the  exclusion  of  hope  vould 
for  ever  extinguish  the  latent  spark  of  honourable  feeling  and  amend- 
ment. Now,  when  the  term  of  his  sentence  expires,  he  dreads  the  idea 
of  returning  to  Spain,  where,  perhaps,  his  faults  would  still  be  remem- 
bered— where  he  would  be  pointed  out  in  the  streets  by  the  children, 
who  would  say,  'There  goes  a  man  who  has  returned  from  transported^ 
tion/  It  would  be  like  a  millstone  round  his  neck;  he  could  never  rise 
to  credit  or  respectability.  In  Puerto  Rico,  on  the  contmry,  there  were 
no  witnesses  of  his  offences  to  reproach  him.  Ulider  these  circumsta&eet, 
the  <^haracter  and  conduct  of  numbers  of  the  convict  class  have  mriergone 
a  happy  change.  They  have  applied  themselves  to  industry;  formed 
respectable  connexions  by  marriage;  and  in  a  few  years  many  of  them 
have  raised  themselves  to  opulence.  Such  has  been  the  fortune  of  many 
individuals  whose  offspring  enjoy  a  respectable  consideration  in  this  island,' 
whom  it  would  be  illiberal  and  unjust  to  reproach  with  the  £B.ult8  of  their 
forefiithers."— pp.  67—69. 

In  confirmation  of  these  views,  we  are  informed  that  robberies 
and  assassinations  are  rare  in  Puerto  Rico,  although  the  variety  ol 
classes  fuid  colours  might  suggest  an  opposite  consequence.  As  to 
some  of  the  habits  and  tastes  of  the  people  we  have  the  foUowing 
jejeune,  but  manifestly  feithful  account. 

*'  The  native  of  Puerto  Rico  is  passionately  fond  of  horses:  the  Xivav» 
must  be  very  poor  indeed  who  has  not  one  or  two  horses,  whicJiaerve  to 
aarry  both  his  own  person  and  the  produce  of  his  land  to  market;  for  the 
Xivard,  be  his  horse  ever  so  lean,,  or.  the  burthen  ever  so  heavy,  seals 
hiinself  on  the  top  of  it,  and  thus  gipides  the  aaimaL  He  will  sooaer 
steal  a  horse  for  a  day,  and  ride  htm,  than  walk  a  league.  The  ridi  Iwve 
ifciwayd  several  saddle-horses,  which  are  solely  res^red  for  riding.  A 
krgpe  pillion,  made  of  strong  linen  and  stuffed  with  straw,  is  girded  oa 
the  home's  back :  two  square  widcer  baskets,  very  neatly  made, aiboata 
foot  long  and  eight  inches  wide,  united  together  by  a  leathern  stnift,  asea 
^rown  oVer  the  .pillion  on  either  tide,  close  totiie  horse's  neck;  they  axe 
firmly  girded  on,  and  serve  in  travelling  to  carry  clothes  or  provisimMu 
A  cushion  is  piaced  on.  tiie  piUion,  which  is  covered  with  a  cloak  or  car- 
pet; and  tl»  poorer  classes  .have  a  bfonket,  to.proteet  then  from  the  rain, 
ft  a  placed  loosely,  that  it  may  be  drawn  fbrth  when  required.  Eveigc 
man  in  the  country,  rich  and  poor,  carries  an  immense  basket-hilled 
sword,  a  yard  and  a  quarter  loi^,  which  is  placed  in  the  baskets,  or  under 
the  cushion-pannel,  with  the  point  sticking  out  behind,  and  wavii^  to 
aad  fro  in  tiie  air.  There  are  jio  stirrups.  The  horseman  or  hoKm^ 
woman  sits  on  the  cushion  with  the  fltce  towards  the  horse's  head*  tlw 
feet  gently  hanging  on  either  side  of  his  neck;  and  the  baskets,  whiisii 
have  handles  to  them,  serve  to  hold  by  in  Case  of  emergency.  A  person 
moimted  on  horseback  in  this  way  has  a  very  carious  af^pearaace ;  but  it 
is  a  very  commodious  and  easy  way  of  traveUing.  Two  persons  can  nik 
on  the  same  horse,  and  the  Xivaro  travels  in  this' way  witii  his  wifo  of 
daughters.  If  the  horse  hu)pens  to  stumble  on  a  bad  road,  the  xid^r 
seldom  sustains  an  iiguiy  nrom  a  &11.  In  crossing  rivers  or  rivuletfc 
which  abo«ii^,4;he  leetare  kept  dx7,c. which  is  so.mpprlsiii.ttMtfHilthvii 
warm  climates."— pp.  71  >  72. 


An  Aecotmi  af  Puerto  Bk0.  41 1 

' .  Wd  «re  8Qxe  ihe  Colonel  is  an  admirer  of  the  fair  see,  and  par- 
tial te  tiieir  society.  There  is  ardour  in  his  delineation  of  the 
hdies  ot  Puerto  Rico. 

*'  The  wom^n  of  Puerto  Rico  are  generally  &i  the  middle  bob.  They 
are  ekganUy  and  deliciitely  formed;  their  waiiitB  are  tapering  and  sknder. 
Their  pale  complexion  creates  interest,  wbioh  is  heightened  by  the  hxil* 
iiancy  of  their  Jne  black  ^es.  Their  hair  is  bkLck  as  jet ;  their  eyebrows 
arched.  They  have,  in  a  high  degree^  that  seductive  and  elegant  air  which 
distinguishes  the  Cadiz  ladies.  They  walk  with  the  grace  which  is  pecu* 
liar  to  the  fair  of  Andalusia.  Their  manners  are  not  only  pleasing.,  but 
£EiscinatiDg :  without  having  the  advantage  of  the  brilliant  education  of  the 
ladies  of  London  or  Paris,  they  are  possessed  of  great  natural  vivacity,  and 
an  ease  of  manners  which  in  England  is  only  to  be  fotind  in  the  best  so- 
ciety. They  converse  with  fluency,  and  their  natural  talent  and  wit  supply 
the  artiflcial  aids  of  education.  They  are,  on  the  wh(de,  more  interesting 
than  beautiful,  more  amiable  than  accomplished.  They  dress  with  an^ 
elegance  and  taste  which  I  have  seldom  seen  surpassed;  the  Peuisian 
fashions  being  invariably  followed  and  imitated.  The  public  balls  are 
splended.  A  stianger  who  should  walk  through  the  city  in  the  day-iime« 
or  in  the  evening,  ilieetiiillg  not  with  a  single  female  except  persons  (>f 
colour,  would  be  surprised  at  night  to  attend  a  public  ball.  His  eyes 
would  he  dazzled  by  an  assemblage  of  Puerto  Rico  ladies;  he  would 
scarcely  believe  he  was  in  that  same  capital  where  he  could  not  find, 
during  the  whole  day,  the  trace  of  a  fair  one.  This  admiration  is  ex- 
pressed by  all  strangers;  for  most  certainly  the  ladies  of  this  island,  in  a 
ball  room,  woald  do  honour  to  any  country  in  the  woild.  Although  too 
Ihlle  attention  is  paid  to  cultivating  their  natural  abilities,  yet  there  are 
many  of  them  who,  by  the  force  merely  of  talent  and  application,  haVe 
made  great  proficiency  in  French  and  painting.  Wilhout  being  taught  by 
»  dancing  master,  they  dance  With  gmce  and  degan^,  and>  Dke  all  ^-tiie 
ladies  of  America,  they  are  fond  to  excess  of  dandng.  Tliey  are  pasbsMi- 
at^ly  fond  <^  their  own  country,  but  they  have  the  politeness  and  good- 
Yfteedaag'ia  conversation  not  to  make  odious  comparison  of  it  with  others, 
in.  the  dsin^stic  circle  they  are  affectionate  wives,  tended  mothers,  and 
ttttaehed  and  faithful  friends."— pp.  81 ,  82. 

*'  They  criticise  dresses,  speak  of  marriages,  diseuss  love  afiairs,  and  piy 
into  their  neighbours'  concerns,  precisely  as  happens  in  almost  all  small  places 
in  all  countries.  Why  should  this  island  be  an  exception  to  th6  general 
nde  ?  We  here  speak  of  mortals,  not  of  angels.  I  have  heard  it  asserted 
hefore  I  visited  th^  island,  that  the  ladies  were  much  addicted  to  Smoking 
segars.  I  have  never  seen  them  smoke,  I  mUst  confess ;  and  if  any  6f 
them  do  indulge  in  it  they  must  do  it  very  privately.  However,  I  should 
prefer  to  see  a  lady  smoking  to  drinking  gin,  as  some  are  said  to  do  in 
Oermany  and  Holland. 

"  The  women  soon  come  to  maturity  in  this  climate ;  they  marry  very 
young,  are  exceedingly  prolific,  and  consequently  their  charms  decay  at  an 
ag'e  when  in  Europe  they  would  be  in  the  full  bloom  of  beauty.  It  is  ttot 
an  uncommon  thing  to  see  a  grandmother  and  her  grandchildren  ih  tb'e 
same  dance.  All  the  ladies,  whether  rich  or  poor,  if  white,  are  on  ti^itin'g 
terms.  Visits  are  made  and  received  with  the  most  punctilious  exactness. 
Tlie  ladies  sddom  go  out  of  doors  unless  to  the  shop^  at  night,  ortoth<e 


41 8  An  Account  of  Puerto  Rico. 

country  on  horseback.     In  the  evenings  they  take  tiie  air  on  the  £at  rooCi 
of  their  houses.    They  bathe  frequently,  and  are  very  attentive  to  die 

cleanliness  of  their  persons  and  houses."*-p.  86. 

We  pass  over  the  chapters  in  this  statistical  work  on  the  govern- 
ment^ commerce^  climate^  and  agriculture  of  Puerto  Rico,  that 
we  may  have  room  for  a  few  observations  and  extracts  regarding 
the  condition  of  its  slave  population,  and  as  compared  with  the 
same  class  in  the  colonies  of  other  European  powers.  And  here 
the  author  maintains  that  the  colonial  laws  of  Spain,  both  as 
to  protection  and  encouragement  to  the  unfortunate  bondsmen  and 
also  to  the  free  people  of  colour  is  incontestibly  superior  to  that  of 
the  British  or  French.  It  is  to  be  rememberea,  however,  that  his 
observations  in  so  &r  as  the  former  power  is  concerned,  regard  a 
period  prior  to  the  great  measure  carried  in  Parliament  at  a  Tery 
recent  date,  and  of  which  he  speaks  in  strong  terms  of  approval-*^ 
testimcMiy  of  considerable  value,  as  the  information  of  such  a  wit- 
ness of  course  renders  it. 

If  the  facts  be  as  stated  by  the  author  respecting  Puerto  Rico,  it 
has  the  least  to  fear  of  any  of  the  West  India  islands  from  the 
emancipation  of  the  slaves.  Not  to  take  into  account  what  he  says 
about  the  interest  of  the  master  being  there  compatible  with  the 
humane  treatment  of  the  slave,  he  shows  that  the  white  population 
-is  numerical! Y  superior  to  the  free  mulattoes,  free  blacks,  and  slaves 
combined.  But  the  extraordinary  increase  of  the  population  of 
this  island,  compared  with  the  decrease  of  all  classes  and  grades  of 
colour  in  the  British  and  French  West  India  colonies  is  matter  of 
still  graver  consideration.  For  such  he  first  roundly,  and  next.b/ 
minute  tables,  makes  the  case  to  appear ;  which  we  who  have  been 
accustomed  to  look  upon  Spain  as  one  of  the  most  in^litic  aoji 
tyrannical  governments  in  the  civilised  world,  and  more  signal 
such,  when  compared  with  liberal  England  and  France,  .weea  m^ 

Erepared  to  learn.     In  attempting  to  account  for  this  ^iyflfi^jlarifri: 
e  offers  several  reasons.     Take  the  foUovring,  which,  as  -prefl^itfi} 
here,  are  honourable  to  the  heart  and  the  principles  of  the  wxi^r-n^ 
'*  As  the  number  of  births  and  deaths  which  take  place  annuaHjr;t«  an 
island  circumstanced  in  the  same  manner  as  Puerto  Rico,  maj  oeiJCCtfM' 
sidered  a  correct  standard  whereby  to  judge  of  the  increase  or  duninution 
of  its  population,  so  the  number  of  marriages  may  be  considered  a  iufC 
criterion  by  which  to  form  an  opinion  with  respect  to  the  extent  of  mcval 
feeling  among  the  free  people  of  colour  and  slaves.     No  island  In.'  tBe 
West  Indies — I  do  not  go  too  far,  perhaps,  when  I  assert,  that  no  Euro- 
pean colony  on  the  face  of  the  globe — presents  a  more  striking  ezaosple 
of  this  truth  than  the  Spanish  colonies,  where  marriages  has  not  been  at 
any  period,  nor  is  at  present,  confined  exclusively  to  the  white  populafioo« 
as  was  formerly  the  case  in  the  British  and  French  colonies.     The  wish 
to  contract  lawful  unions  by  marriage,  prevades  all  classes  of  society;  tlus 
privilege  is  sanctioned  and  enjoined  by  the  law;  and  even  the  poor  degrade^ 
slaves,  under  the  Spanish  colonial  administration,  may  enjpy  ,tb6  ^W^^ 
endearments  of  conjugal  affection,  the  solace  of  a  home  and  of  a  fjeimily. 


An  Account  of  Puerto  Rico,  419 

In  their  old  age,  surrounded  by  an  affectionate  offspring,  (for  no  people 
Dn  the  face  of  the  earth  make  better  parents,  kinder  husbands,  or  more 
dutiful  children  than  the  Africans),  they  descend  to  the  grave  without 
casting  a  look  of  regret  back  to  the  country  in  which  they  were  born; 
for  a  home,  a  country,  and  a  family,  they  find  in  the  Spanish  colonies, 
where  their  minds,  benighted  by  pagan  superstition,  are  taught  that  the 
slaves  too  have  a  God  I 

"  The  present  age  is  too  enlightened  to  allow  the  prejudices  of  party 
opinion  to  conceal  or  to  weaken  the  evidence  of  well-established  facts  ;  and 
I  shall  not  find  it  very  diffictdt  to  prove  that  while  the  African  slaves  were 
Bunk  in  the  most  profound  depths  of  pagan  ignorance  and  superstition  in 
the  colonies  both  of  France  and  England,  while  the  the  water  of  baptism  was 
there  denied  them,  and  they  were  excluded  from  the  lights  of  that  religion 
which  alone  could  afford  them  comfort  e^en  in  slavery,  they  were  freely 
admitted  to  that  sacred  rite,  and  to  all  the  privileges  of  Christianity,  in  the 
fipanish  cdlonies.  Taking  a  retrospect  of  the  earliest  period  of  the  history 
of  slavey,  when  not  a  feeling  of  domestic  happiness  illumined  the  slave's 
dark  and  cruel  destiny — even  many  years  before  the  British  Parliament  had  ' 
yet  resounded  with  cries  of  indignation  at  the  recital  of  the  monstrous  cruel- 
ties perpetrated  by  the  slave  merchants  and  by  planters  in  the  colonies—* 
many  years  before  the  sufferings  which  the  wretched  slaves  endured  on 
ship-boaid,  or  the  wiles,  the  stratagems,  and  the  violence  employed  to  drag 
them  from  their  native  land  into  bondage,  were  brought  to  light — ^long 
before  this  nefarious  and  inhuman  traffic  had  been  denounced  to  the  world, 
or  its  abolition  decreed  by  the  great  rival  nations — the  spiritual  and  tern- 
pond  happiness  of  the  slaves  was  cared  for,  and  the  means  of  obtaining 
their  freedom  were  pointed  out  and  fully  provided  for,  by  the  laws  of 
Spain."— pp.  221—231. 

We  are  somewhat  incredulous  about  this  last  paragraph.  When 
was  it  that  Spain  got  her  light  and  liberty  ?  and  how  is  it  that 
.England  has  bad  to  be  at  such  pains  to  curb  the  Spanish  traffic  in 
tlaves^  as  she  for  many  years  has  been  renowned  for  in  Christen- 
dom ?  Bat  we  will  allow  the  author  to  make  his  statements^  not 
having  it  in  our  power  to  meet  faim  with  precise  facts^  hoping, 
indeeo^  that  he  is  a  true  historian ;  and  hoping,  though  with  fear, 
that  never  again  may  there  he  heard  more  of  Spanish  merchandise 
jn  Ajfrica's  sons  and  daughters. 

a:^ The  bfttemess  of  slavery  is  very  much  mitigated  by  the  humanity  of 
Hit  Spanish  laws.  The  slave  when  maltreated  by  one  master,  has  a  right, 
Sf  he  pleases,  to  seek  another.  It  is  not  discretionary  with  the  owner  to 
deikumd  any  price  he  pleases  for  the  slave  so  treated, — it  is  regulated  by 
law,  and  is  fixed  at  the  minimum  of  his  real  value.  His  age  and  infirmi- 
ties are  taken  into  consideration,  and  the  maximum  of  the  value  of  a  slave 
perfectly  healthy,  robtist,  and  young,  is  fixed  by  law  in  such  cases,  at  300 
dollars.  No  law  or  regulation  of  this  1<ind  exists  in  any  of  the  English , 
Rrench  or  Danish  islands.  According  to  the  Spanish  laws,  a  slave  may 
ttiarry  according  to  his  inclination.  In  the  Dutch  colonies,  the  curate  who 
should  officiate  at  the  marriage  of  a  slave,  would  be  fined  500  dollars,  and 
be  deprived  of  his  curacy;  and  in  the  English  and  French  colonies,  a  few 
years  ago,  the  marriage  ceremony  was  altogether  unknown  amongst  the 
VOL.  III.  (1834.)  wo.  ni.  g  a 


420  An  Account  of  Puerto  Rico, 

filayes.  Freedom  cannot  be  denied  in  the  Spanish  colonies  to  the  slave 
who  produces  the  sum  stipulated  by  law,  whether  acquired  by  donation  or 
by  his  own  industry  :  and  he  may  purchase  his  own  freedom,  or  that  of 
his  wife  and  children.  In  no  part  of  the  world,  where  slavery  exists,  is  the 
manumission  of  slaves  so  frequent  as.  in  the  Spanish  dominions :  the  proof 
of  this  assertion  is,  that  there  are  more  free  people  of  Colour  in  Puerto  Rioe 
alone,  than  in  the  whole  of  the  French  and  English  islands  put  together; 
although,  in  the  latter,  there  are  more  than  twenty  times  the  number  of 
slaves  contained  in  the  former  island.  The  Spanish  legislation  from  tht 
remotest  period  favoured  the  liberty  of  the  slave  in  a  most  extraordinary 
manner.  There  is  also  a  religious  feeling  amongst  the  Spaniards  which 
does  them  infinite  honour,  and  which  induces  many  masters  in  their  wiUi 
to  manumit  their  slaves,  as  the  reward  of  faithful  services,  'litis  is  a  cir- 
'^mstance  of  frequent  occurrence,  and  it  acts  as  a  powerful  stimulus  to 
good  conduct  on  the  part  of  the  slaves.  The  French  colonial  lawa,  again, 
throw  every  obstacle  in  the  way  to  prevent  the  liberty  of  the  slave.  A 
French  colonial  law  of  the  lOtb  June,  1 705,  says — *  All  slaves,  free  m^ncf^ 
their  children  and  descendants,  are  in  future  incapable  of  receiving  from  a 
white  person  any  donation  while  living,  in  articulo  moriia,  or  otherwise, 
under  any  denomination  or  pretext;  and  such  donations  or  legacies  are 
hereby  declared  null  and  void,  and  shall  be  applied  to  the  use  of  the  nearest 
hospital/  In  the  Spanish  colonies  a  slave  may  receive  a  donation  from  a 
white  person,  or  a  free  person  of  colour ;  and  although  the  slave  by  law  is 
considered  as  a  minor,  and  consequently  not  capable  of  legally  possesiag 
property,  except  by  toleration  and  custom,  yet  if  the  master  receives  thefdo* 
nation  on  the  part  of  the  slave,  the  amount  is  deducted  out  of  his  value,  the 
day  he  is  sold  to  another  master,  or  has  sufficient  money  To  parchase  hii 
own  freedom. 

**  No  stronger  proof  can  be  adduced  to  shew  the  humane  treatment  of 
the  Spaniards  to  their  slaves,  than  a  view  of  the  revolution  of  Sout^ 
America.    During  the  sanguinary  struggle  that  took  place  in  that  unfoi> 
tunate  country,  the  revolutionary  party  often  proclaimed  liberty  to  the 
slaves,  to  induce  them  to  take  up  arms  against  the  royal  goyeroment. 
Far  from  taking  advantage  of  this  offer,  all  of  them,  with  very  few  ex- 
ceptions, remained  on  the  estates,  hiding  themselves  in  the  woods  on  the 
approach  of  the  enemy ;  or  they  followed  the  fortune  of  their  masters  in 
emigration,  or  shared  their  dangers  in  the  field.     It  is  a  fact  equally  true 
and  worthy  of  remark,  that  the  slaves  belonging  to  a  master  who  Was  a 
royalist  invariably  adhered  to  his  principles,  whilst,  or  the  other  band, 
the  slaves  of  the  insurgents  clung  firmly  to  them  through  all  the  vioiaBi- 
tudes  of  revolutionary  fortune.    Again,  when  the  whole  slave  populatiofi 
of  the  French  part  of  the  island  of  St.  Domingo  rose  en  nuuse^  and 
destroyed  every  thing  and  every  white  person  they  could  lay  hands  on,  it 
is  a  most  remarkable  fact,  and  speaks  more  in  favour  of  the  treatment  af 
the  Spaniards  to  their  slaves  than  volumes  of  argument,  that  the  Spanisfa 
negroes,  who  were  close  to  the  revolted  French  negroes  in  the  same 
island,  remained  perfectly  tranquil.     They  followed  their  uaual  occupa- 
tions ;  and  it  was  not  until  the  constitution  of  the  year  1820  had  been 
estabUshed  in  the  Peninsula,  that  Spanish  St.  Domingo  fell  a  prey  to  the 
republic  of  Hayti.    But  even  then,  when  many  white  families  emigrated, 
the  slaves  that  could  escape  from  the  vigilance  of  the  law,  which  ix'o- 


An  Account  of  Puerto  Rice,  421 

hibited  their  em^ration,  followed  their  masters,  preferring  slavery  and 
misery  in  a  strange  land  to  liberty  and  equality  at  home." — ^pp.  235 — 243. 

There  is  a  great  deal  more  given  to  show  the  superior  and  humane 
character  of  the  Spanish  slave  code,  their  slaves*  comparative  do- 
mestic comforts,  and  opportunities  of  obtaining  emancipation.  Still, 
with  all  the  author^s  admiration  of  Spain  and  her  laws,  as  well  as  of 
her  conduct,  he  is  no  advocate  for  slavery;  and  firmly  maintains^ 
that  free  labour  is  the  most  profitable,  at  the  same  time  that  it  is 
the  best  preparation  for  the  total  extinction  of  slavery.    ^ 

^  The  Spanish  colonies,  as  I  have  already  shown,  form  a  striking  con« 
traat  with  the  colonies  of  other  European  powers  in  the  West  Indies^ 
when  we  consider  the  great  preponderance  of  the  whites  and  free  coloured 
population  over  the  slaves  in  numerical  force.  But  this  contrast  will  b/t 
tonsiderably  heightened, — ^and  it  reflects  further  honour  on  the  colonial 
regulations  of  Spain,'— -if  we  take  a  retrospect  of  the  preparatory  measures 
adopted  to  facilitate  the  final  emancipation  of  .the  slaves,  by  the.  timely 
establishment  and  encouragement  of  free  labour  in  her  colonies.  The 
progressive  substitution  of  free  for  coercive  labour  forms,  in  my  opinion, 
the  best  and  safest  preparation  for  the  total  and  unqualified  emancipation 
of  the  West  India  skves.  Unfortunately,  in  the  colonies  of  England  and 
France,  the  efficiency  of  free  labour,  or  the  possibility  of  its  substitution 
for  that  of  slaves,  has  never  yet  been  fairly  tried.  The  whole  of  the 
kmds  in  the  greater  part  of  the  West  India  islands,  are  in  the  hands  of  a 
few  large  proprietors ;  and  from  the  circumstance  of  agricultural  labour 
being  exclusively  performed  by  slaves,  and  slavery  carrying  on  its  face 
the  indelible  stigma  of  in&my  and  degradation,  the  whites  and  free 
peo]de  of  colour,  however  miserably  poor,  could  not  be  prevailed  upon, 
from  any  consideration  of  interest  or  feeling  of  independence,  to  work  as 
common  labourers  in  the  fields.  Therefore  the  snug  proprietor  of  a  few 
well-cultivated  acres  of  land,  who  toib  with  his  family  to  procure  a  com- 
fortable living,  is  a  specimen  of  rural  industry  and  of  dojnestic  hapiMness 
not  to  be  found  in  any  of  the  colonies  of  France  or  England,  in  which 
the  lower  orders  of  the  whites  and  free  people  of  colour  generally  live  in 
a  wretched  state  of  misery,  vice,  and  prostitution." — pp.  257,  258. 

He  next  proceeds  to  ^rove,  that  white  men  equally  as  well  as 
people  of  colour,  bom  within  the  tropics,  can  work  in  the  fields^ 
«aa  be  more  profitable  servants  than  the  qatives  of  Africa. 

**  For  about  a  sMliing  sterling  of  daily  wages,  a  free  labourer  will 
WDik  in  the  field  from  sun^rise  to  sun-set  in  Puerto  Rico,  and  on  a  mo- 
derate calculation  will  perform  more  work  duripg  that  time  than  two 
skaves.  One  of  the  principal  advantages  which  results  to  the  planter 
from  free  labour  4s,  that  he  sinks  no  capital,  as  he  must  do  if  he  purchases 
fliaires;  nor  does  he  incur  the  losa  of  it  in  case  his  labourers  should  die, 
«r  sustain  the  expense  of  curing  them  during  sickness,  or  of  maintaining 
them  in  decrepitude  or  old  age ;  without  taking  into  account  the  moral 
iahmy  and  degpradation  inseparable  from  forced  labour,  where  the 
wretched  slave  is  sold  like  a  piece  'of  merchandize,,  and  whipped  like  a 
heast  of  burthen. 

"'  It  mutt  foe  evident  lo  all  who  have. observed  and  compared  land  culr 
tivated  by  freemen  and  by  slaves  in  the  West  Indies,  that  the  labour  of 

gg2 


422  An  Account  of  Puerto  Rica. 

the  former  is  double  in  quantity  and  better  done  than  that  of  the  latter. 
It  is  also  obviouSt  that  under  free  labour,  where  mea  are  free  agenti,  a 
country  must  be  more  prosperous  than  one  in  which  a  certain  class  of  the 
inhabitants  are  forced  to  work  without  having'  any  interest  whatever  in 
the  soil.  Individually,  the  freeman  will  perform  more  work  and  watle 
less  than  the  slave;  he  will  endeavour  to  employ  usefully  every  hoar  of 
the  day,  because  it  is  his  interest  to  be  industrious.  The  slave,  on  the 
other  hand,  works  unwillingly;  he  consumes  and  wastes  as  much  as  he 
can,  and  he  loiters  his  hours  away.  In  confirmation  of  this  tmth,  it  is 
only  necessary  to  observe  the  progressive  advance  of  agriculture  in 
Puerto  Rico  since  the  period  when  the  crown  lands  were  divided — wlrich 
may  be  considered  as  the  commencement  of  free  labour  in  that  eokmy: 
In  1810,  the  value  of  produce  exported,  amcmnted  only  to  65,672  dollars; 
and  in  1832,  it  exceeded  three  millions  of  dollars  ;  and  in  1810,  this  island 
only  produced  3,796  quintals  of  sugar ;  and  in  1832»  it  produced .4 14,663 
quint  Is,  761bs.,  of  which  340,163  quintals,  and  61bs.,  were  legi^yex^ 
ported."— pp.  261— 272.  i  - 

We  have  only  selected  these  short  passages  out  of  a  multihlde/ 
where  facts  and  calculations  are.  abundantly  presented,  and  ftU 
tending  to  the  same  desirable  conclusion,  which  makes  ns  like  the 
Colonel  \yith  all  his  partialities^  and  put  confidence  in  his  state- 
ments even  when  iu  opposition  to  our  preconceived  opinions  and 
belief.  Nor  can  any  one  but  repose  faith  in  his  declarations  anct 
reasonings,  when  it  is  perceived  that  he  has  the  strongest  objectionSy 
and  expresses  the  deepest  abhorrence  of  the  prison  discipline  of 
Spain  and  her  colonies.  He  has  considered  the  improvementa 
made  in  this  branch  of  policy  in  England  and  the  United  States  of 
America,  and  avows  that  the  prisons  and  galleys  of  the  Peninsula 
and  her  dependencies,  excite  in  him  nothing  but  disgust  whenever 
he  thinks  of  them,  for  they  exhibit  '*  one  vast  panorama  of  every 
species  of  vice,  depravity,  and  misery  that  can  degrade  human 
nature." 

Of  the  presidios  or  galleys  to  which  offenders  are  by  the  Spaniah 
laws  sentenced  for  a  term  of  from  three  to  ten  years,  and  undbr  ag- 
gravated circumstances,  to  recommittal  for  life,  he  entertains  the  fol- 
lowing sentiments. 

**  Perhaps  this  is  one  of  the  most  important  subjects  tliat  ever  oociqiied 
the  attention  of  a  govern  ment ;  for  few  other  causes  tend  move  powjorfulfy 
to  influence  the  prosperity  or  decay  of  national  wealth  and  power.  With 
a  system  of  punishment,  of  which  the  inevitable  effect  is  to  foster  and  per- 
petuate, and  constantly  to  augment  a  population  of  thieves  and  luaanMinft 
no  system  of  finance  can  be  carried  into  foil  operatioii — no  govemuHm 
can  be  efficiently  established  in  authority.  Only  let  «8  suppoeethtttAve 
thousand  persons  are  discharged  yearly  from  a  ji^idio :  we  have  Ihiia  afr 
least  four  thousand  assassins,  bathed  to  the  very  lips  in  vioe,  let  loose  oo 
society  ;  and  in  the  course  of  a  century  the  progression  in  crime  wouM 
exceed  all  calculation.  By  a  reference  to  those  coimtries  where  a  well- 
regulated  system  of  prison  discipline  has  been  established,  and  followed  ap 
with  perseverance,  it  will  be  foand  that  it  has  contributed  more  to  baoisli 
crime,  and  promote  industry,  than  all  the  penalties  ever  invented  for  £he 


The  Annuals  for  1835/  423 

Mine  object.  The  unL'brni  experience,  for  a  series  of  years,  of  the  prisons 
of  Bngland  and  the  United  States,  where  sanguinary '  penal  codes,  after 
having  been  for  ages  in  operation,  have  yielded  in  practice  to  the  more  ra- 
tionil  and  humane  substitution  of  hard  labour,  restricted  diet,  solitary  con- 
finement»  and  judicious  classification,  furnishes  unquestionable  practical 
evidence  that  the  energies  of  the  law  in  the  suppression  of  crime,  are  most 
potent  and  efficient  when  directed  with  a  constant  view  to  the  moral  fa- 
eulties  .of  our  nature,  and  when  imbued  with  that  spirit  which  seeks  to 
restore,  in  order  that  it  may  safely  forgive.  The  great  object  of  the  insti- 
tution of  civil  government  is  to  advance  the  prosperity  and  to  in  increase 
tiie  happiness  of  its  subjects.  The  agents  of  government,  from  the  captain- 
genend  down  to  a  turnkey  of  a  prison,  should  be  the  fathers  of  the  people ; 
and  it  may  surely  be  ranked  among  the  daties  incident  to  this  paternal 
eare,  not  only  that  those  who  are  guilty  of  crime  should  receive  the  pun- 
ishment due  to  tiieir  offences,  but  that  no  pains  should  be  spared  to  r^nove 
the  causes  of  offences,  and  to  diminish,  as  far  as  possible,  every  source  of 
temrptafnon  and  corruption.  This  is  precisely  what  I  would  bring  under 
the  view  of  government,  by  demonstrating  the  condition  of  the  men  con- 
demned to  the  presidios  of  Puerto  Rico ;  a  class  whose  increasing  numbers 
and  deplorable  moral  and  physical  situation  loudly  call  for  the  effective 
moral  co-operation  of  every  individual  interested  in  the  welfare  of  his 
country ;  for  all  are,  I  assert,  collectively  aud  individually  interested  in 
the  question." — p.  291. 

We  must  now  leave  off  any  further  consideration  of  Colonel 
Flinter's  Puerto  Rico^  satisfied  that  he  is  an  amiable  man^  en- 
dowed with  warm  feelings,  strongly  attached  to  a  nation  and  govern- 
ment to  which  he  has  become  closely  allied,  and  above  wilfiilly  per- 
verting facts  ;  though  we  suspect  that  not  unfrequently  his  friend- 
ship has  considerably  affected  his  clear  perception  of  all  the 
bearings  of  particular  questions,  where  history  should  have  pre- 
served him  from  mistake  and  error. 


Abt.  XII.        « 
h — The  Landscape  Annual  for  1835. — The  Tourist  in  Spain-^  Granada, 
'  iSif  TaovAs  RosGOB.    Illustrated  from  Drawings  by  Davij>  Robbbts. 

>Lo6d6n :  Jennings  and  Ck>.     1894. 
If .—^The  Orientai  Annual  for  1885,  or  Scenes  in  India:    By  the  Rev. 

HoBART  Cauntbr,  B.D.  London:  Churton.  1834. 
When  the  first  Annuals  appeared,  every  one  felt  that  the  title,  the 
period  of  their  publication,  and  the  nature  of  their  contents,  on  ac- 
eount  of  the  variety  of  hands  engaged  in  them,  were"^  happy  concep* 
tions.  quite  distinct  from  what  might  be  their  intrinsic  merits.  Like 
all  striking  and  lucky  ideas,  they  soon  came  to  be  hackneyed  to  a 
degree  and  extent  to  make  even  what  is  really  good  in  some 
measure  tasteless.  So  that  when  we  hear  of  anything  in  the 
shape  of  a  new  Annual,  the  mind  naturally  sets  down  the  specu- 
lator as  such  a  common-place  man — as  such  a  banking-clerk  sort  of 


424  The  Annuals  for  1835. 

literateur^  as  operates  coDsiderably  io  the  disparagement  of  bis  taleote.- 
This  presumption  no  doubt  is  strengthened  and  enforced  by  the  general 
style  and  merits  of  the  literature  to  be  found  in  these  yearly  visi- 
tors, of  which,  to  say  the  best,  pretliness  is  the  characteristic:  or 
sweetness,  the  sweetness  of  sugar,  without  those  admixtures  that 
communicate  a  finer  and  higher  relish  to  the  fare.  Indeed,  Ibrir 
figure,  the  binding,  the  embellishments,  are  exactly  suited  to  their 
literature,  and  descriptive  of  their  value. 

It  is  at  the  same  time  true,  that  our  ablest  and  most  popular 
writers  contribute  to  this  family  of  works ;  and  out  of  the  variety  of 
departments  to  which  these  belong,  it  might  be  held  impossible  for 
them  to  be  destitute  of  every  species  of  excellence.  But  be  it  re- 
membered, that  the  embellishments  are  the  primary  object,  and 
that  the  literature  wedded  to  them,  is  necessarily  of  a  confined  and 
corresponding  character.  The  limited  field  allowed  each  author 
admits  not  of  surpassing  efforts ;  whilst  in  the  mere  circnmstanoe 
of  appointed  topics,  which  of  course  are  frequently  presented  to  the 
contributors,  there  is  a  circumscribed  and  detenorating  influence. 
These  are  such  apparent  truths  and  facts  that  it  is  unnecessary  to 
do  more  than  name  them.  But  what  concerns  us  as  guardians  of 
the  public  taste,  and  historians  of  cotemporary  literature,  is  to 
mark  the  influence  which  any  one  department  has  upon  the  aur- 
rotmding  fields,  at  the  same  time  that  we  measure  its  own  precise 
dimensions.  And  here  we  must  declare  that  the  Annuals  have 
had  directly  and  indirectly  a  tendency  to  lower  the  tone,  and  neu- 
tralize the  originality  of  their  writers,  whilst  they  have  diluted  the 
taste  of  their  readers.  Independently  of  the  reasons  above  assigned 
for  the  inferior  contributions  of  celebrated  authors,  these  works  have 
opened  a  receptacle  for  every  person,  old  and  young,  who  could 
prettily  wield  a  pen.  The  Annuals  are,  therefore,  essentially 
boarding-school  literature,  to  the  exclusion,  to  a  certain  extent^  ci 
more  worthy  volumes.  In  the  ordinary  history  of  books,  it  is  only 
those  that  are  very  g(ft>d  and  far  above  mediocrity  that  Uve,  or 
eiven  obtain  the  binder's,  much  less  the  painter's  and  engraver's 
embeltishments.  Writers  of  mediocrity  generally  are  allowed  to 
die  without  having  done  much  harm,  or  wasted  the  time  of  many 
readers.  The  Annuals^  however,  are  uniformly  possessed  of  many 
decorations,  and  are  never  destitute  of  some  meritorious  papers ; 
which  circumstance,  together  with  the  varied  character  of  their  con- 
tents, arising  from  the  variety  of  contributors,  gives  them  a  popu- 
larity that  leads  and  keeps  the  taste  of  their  multitudinous  reaaers 
in  an  inferior  school,  besides  the  Annuals^  penny  publications 
and  cheap  libraries  have  figured  greatly  within  these  few  years. 
But  the  latter  have  for  their  object  the  utile  instead  of  the  dulce ; 
— ^knowledge  rather  than  entertainment  is  their  field.  These  two 
departments  are  affected  very  difierently  by  handling.  Knowledge, 
the  more  that  it  is  spread  and  cultivated,  uniformly  grows  :  it  ga- 
thers health  and  vigour  by  diffusion;  the  more  plain  that  it  is 


The  Annuals  for  1835.  425 

made,  the  more  is  its  beauty  perceived.  But  sentiment  sickens  by 
fine  spinning,  and  instead  of  acquiring  fresh  beanty,  presents  the 
yellow  hue  of  dying  nature.  The  Annuals  are  devoted  to  this  most 
delicate  field  ;  and  whilst'  at  their  very  oommenoement  they  were 
exposed  to  all  the  evils  named  already  by  us,  they  have  every  year 
been  necessarily  liable  to  the  accruing  weaknesses  of  continued 
handling.  Accordingly,  we  must  say  for  1835,  though  possessing 
all  their  fisimily  features,  still  they  are  more  than  ever  weakly  and 
consumptive.  Even  the  pictorial  embellishments  are  generally  less 
striking,  as  if  the  artists  were  in  some  degree  exhausted.  And  no 
wonder ;  for  the  style  that  has  become  fashionable  throughout  the 
Annuals,  is  like  what  we  should  say  become  a  generation  of  little 
men.    The  two  which  follow  are  exceptions  in  plan  and  execution. 

We  have  witnessed,  with  pleasure,  the  encouragement  which  the 
author  of  the  *'  Landscape  Annual ''  received  from  the  public,  in 
his  entertaining  tour  through  France  and  Italy.  In  the  pesent 
volume,  he  conducts  us  through  the  romantic  regions  of  Spain,  In 
tracing  these  Annuals,  Mr.  Roscoe  has  done  justice  to  his  readers 
and  to  himself.  We  too  frequently  find  works  of  tliis  nature,  writ- 
ten without  animation  or  spurit.  Mr.  Roscoe  appears  not  to  have 
been  satisfied  with  a  plain,  nerveless,  insipid,  geographical  descrip- 
tion of  the  beautiful  scenes  which  he  delineates  :  he  has  launched 
fcfrth  into  a  nobler  strain,  and  has  suiiered  himself  to  be  transported 
by  the  natural  warmth  and  vigour  which  the  nobleness  of  the  theme 
inspired.  He  has  dressed  truth  in  the  garb  of  fiction.  But,  al- 
though he  has  interwoven  fiction  in  his  development  of  the  history 
and  character  of  the  Moors,  he  has  opened  an  abundant  source  of  au- 
thenticated information  for  those  who  condemn  fiction  as  the  flimsy 
production  of  a  distempered  imagination,  and  who  seek  at  once 
to  arrive  at  the  pure  fountain  of  truth.  But  in  the  estimation  of 
general  readers,  our  opinion  is,  that  the  fiction  adopted  by  the  au- 
thor will  be  thought  calculated  to  relieve  the  dryness  of  history, 
and  to  render  the  whole  doubly  interesting.  Annuals  of  this  de- 
scription are,  perhaps,  among  the  most  pl&sant  productions  whidi 
appear  before  the  public.  In  them  we  find  sources  of  intelligence, 
both  as  regards  historical  accounts  and  local  scenery.  If  we  have 
never  travelled  fix>m  our  own  country,  we  become  conversant  with 
others ;  we  are  made  acquainted  with  the  peculiar  manners  and 
customs  of  every  nation ;  we  peruse  the  historical  annals  of  every 
people ;  we  see  pourtrayed  before  us  every  mountainous  and  pic* 
turesque  spot  which  adorns  the  face  of  the  globe ;  in  fine,  we  have 
a  general  view  of  whatever  is  notable  or  magnificent,  throughout 
every  state  and  kingdom  in  the  four  quarters  of  the  universe.  A 
book  which  is  the  means  of  conveying  thus  a  fund  of  knowledge, 
is  useful  as  well  as  pleasant.  In  this  light  we  view  with  approval 
the  encouragement  which  those  before  us  have  hitherto  met  with 
from  the  public,  and  which  doubtless  will  be  continued.  For  in- 
stance, a  descriptive   tour  through   Granada,  in   the  manner   of 


426  The  AnnufUffor  1835. 

Mr.  Roscoe,  is  highly  worthy  of  public  notice.  We  now  proceed 
to  present  our  readers  with  a  general  view  of  the  entertaining 
contents  of  his  volume. 

'  The  scene  opens  in  Granada,  in  the  evening  of  **  that  eventfiil 
day  when  the  Moorish  monarch  beheld  the  Christian  captives  of 
the  fallen  Zaharah,  led  in  triumph  through  the  gates  of  Granada.*'- 
Aben  Kassim,  the  ablest  counsellor  of  the  reigning  monarchy  who 
had  ever  been  his  companion  in  times  of  festivity  and  peril,  is  re- 
presented walking  in  the  delightful  gardens  of  the  Alhambra,  ab- 
sorbed in  meditation.  He  enters  the  groves  of  cypress  and  myrtle, 
where  the  vast  edifice  of  the  Alhambra  occasionally  presents  itself 
to  view,  through  the  sequestered  shades  visible  by  the  light  of  the 
pale  moon,  which  illumined  its  lofty  minarets.  In  the  midst  of  his 
reverie,  he  at  length  arrives  at  the  magnificent  area  of  the  Alham- 
bra called  the  Court  of  Lions.  He  proceeds,  till  his  attention  is 
arrested  by  one  of  those  inscriptions  emblazoned  on  the  halls  and 
temples  of  the  sons  of  Mahommed,  "  teaching  how  kingdoms  were 
to  be  won,  and  how,  when  conquered,  they  were  to  be  maintainei!..^ 
'^  A  sigh  escaped  him,  as  he  turned  away  from  the  admonitdr} 
wisdom  of  the  past — that  sole  despised  heritage  of  our  sires ;  and 
he  proceeded  with  more  hurried  step  and  clouded  brow^  to  the  jpa- 
lace  residence  of  the  king." 

Aben  Kassim  found  the  monarch,  Muley  Ibn  Hassan,  seated  in 
one  of  the  luxurious  retreats  of  the  Alhambra,  with  a  sullen  and 
dejected  brow,  which  but  ill  contrasted  with  the  placid  beauty  and 
magnificence  of  the  place. 

•  Muley  Ibn  Hassan  is  described  ^'  as  being  long  past  the  meridian 
of  life.  His  stately  strong-knit  frame  had  begun  to  bend  and  rock 
under  the  united  force  of  time,enervating  indulgence,  and  the  stormy 
passions  of  the  breast.  Still,  his  countenance  was  more  stron^y 
pk)ughed  by  anxiety  than  age.  His  swarthy  brow  bore  traces  of 
the  most  violent  tempests  that  can  shake  the  human  soul.  Not 
deficient  in  the  light  of  intelligence,  the  mental  characteristics  of 
his  face  were  themselves  but  interpreters  of  the  pride — the  terrible 
self-will  which  ruled  all  the  thoughts  and  avenues  of  his  beine/' 
'  Aben  Kassim  saluted  his  monarch,  and  proceeded  to  discuss 
with  him  the  affairs  of  the  falling  kingdom  of  Granada.  He  remon- 
strates with  the  king,  that  though  he  bad  manifested  the  resoluteness 
and  fearlessness  of  his  noble  spirit,  in  denying  the  tribute  to  the 
Christian  king  of  Spain,  he  had  not  acted  with  the  prudence  and  deli- 
beration which  were  required  to  cicatrize  the  disasters  of  the  sinking 
state.  He  opens  the  eyes  of  the  monarch  to  the  secret  machina- 
tions of  Ferdinand,  who  had  gained  over  to  his  interest  the  Moorish 
tribes  of  Zegris  and  Gomelez.  But  as  the  king  had  openly  defied 
the  envoy  of  Spain,  the  worthy  minister  strenuously  exhorted  him  to 
persevere  in  his  obstinacy  and  determination  to  deny  the  tribute 
which  Ferdinand  demanded.  This  colloquy  is  admirably  supported 
bv  the  reckless  impetuosity  of  the  monarch,  and  the  more  calm  de- 
liberation of  the  statesman. 


^ 


ne  Armuals  for  1885.  437 

^' '  Ohy  Aben  Kas8im>'  replied  Muley  Ibn  Hassan^  kindling  with 
noble  rage,  '  and  couldst  thou  have  heard  that  vain  presuming 
knight  remind  thee  of  thy  vassal  lot,  and  call  aloud  for  tribute  be- 
fore the  assembled  emirs  and  elders  of  the  empire,  seated  amid  thy 
symbols  of  sway,  robed  in  thy  royal  koftan  on  thy  imperial  divan, 
a  throne  won  for  thee  by  the  sword  of  judgment,  widded  by  the 
prophet?  Had  he  sent  to  challenge  us  to  open  toumay,  at  the 
tilt  of  reeds^  or  to  place  the  destiny  of  the  empire  on  lance  with 
lance,  more  pleasing  to  me  had  been  the  sight  of  that  malapert 
envoy  in  our  lists.  But  his  idle,  vaunting  embassy,  told  in  so 
lofty  a  tune,  made  me  tremble  with  rage  to  smite  him,  spite  of 
his  sacred  badge,  even  where  he  stood.  And,  methinks,  he  ought 
to  thank  thee  Uiat  he  does  not  now  look  down  from  our  bat- 
tlements, in  place  of  bearing  our  sharp-edged  missive  to  the  wily 
monarchs  of  Arragon  and  Castile.  By  Allah !  it  will  rouse  their 
chill,  stagnftnt  blood,  when  they  hear  that  all  Granada's  kings, 
who  once  gave  tribute-money  to  Castile,  are  dead  and  gone— 
that  our  royal  mint  coins  nothing  now  but  blades  of  swords  and 
heads  of  javelins.  Yet  it  irks  rae  that  we  let  him  wag  his  pert  and 
impious  tongue,  when  the  flash  of  many  a  weapon  told  him  that 
justice  was  near  at  hand,  ready  to  sprinkle  the  mouthtf  of  our  lion- 
punts  with  his  impetuous  blood.'  " 

The  king  and  his  minister  part  in  mutual  resolves  to  conquer  by 
the  shrine  of  their  Prophet,  or  perish  in  defence  of  their  country  and 
religion. 

"  Then  Allah  speed  us !"  are  the  words  of  Aben  Kassim;  "let  us 
join  the  grand  divan ;  and  next,  oh  king,  summon  we  to  the  sa- 
cred mosque  our  imauns  and  elders, — yea,  the  hajees,  every  pious 
follower  of  their  revered  priests,  even  our  faquirs  and  santous,  to 
offer  up  their  prayers  for  Granada.  Thence  let  them  proclaim 
through  her  cities,  from  end  to  end,  the  greatest  of  our  holy  wars  ; 
thence  unfurl  our  prophet's  sacred  banner,  and  hurl  back  the  in- 
fidel from  the  soil  of  our  beloved  country." 

The  author  next  entertains  us  with  a  lively  and  beautifid  de- 
scription of  the  city  of  Granada.  We  shall  give  this  description  in 
the  words  of  Mr.  Koscoe. 

'^  In  the  dewy  twilight  of  morning,  breathing  the  soft  spirit  of 
its  southern  sea,  minted  with  the  pure  breezy  freshness  of  its 
snowy  sienna  ;  in  the  radiance  of  the  noon-day  sun,  in  the  solemn 
shades  of  evening,  Granada  burst  upon  his  (the  Moslem's)  sight 
with  a  splendour  unknown  to  any  other  city  in  the  world.  Loved 
with  a  species  of  idolatry,  without  parallel,  perhaps,  except  in  the 
glory  of  the  Syrian  Damascus,  or  the  marble  Tadmor  in  the  palmy 
days  of  its  famed  queen,  far  around  her  swelled  the  mountains 
wmch  appear  to  have  been  raised  bv  nature  for  her  lordly  barrier, 
their  snow-bound  crests  emulating  m  whiteness  the  crystd  of  the 
moon-beams — their  deep,  dark  woods  bending  in  bold  contrast  to 
the  glistening  clothing  of  the  summits,  and  the  not  less  exquisite 


438  The  Annuah  for  1835. 

splendour  of  the  golden  roofis  of  palaces  and  mosques  that  shone  x>n 
the  plains  below.  Wide  spreading  along  the  sunny  sides  of  the 
delicious  site  of  this  queen  of  cities^  the  murmur  of  its  golden  river^ 
the  bloom  of  gardens  and  orchards^  vied  with  the  luxury  of  an 
eastern  Eden.  Immediately  on  the  skirts  of  those  pleasure-grounds 
which  appeared  only  lavishly  adorned  to  skreen,  in  their  sykan  re- 
tessea,  the  most  lovely  of  women  from  the  too  ardent  rays  of  the 
sun,  extended  yellow  corn-fields  and  purple  vineyards  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach,  over  fertile  lands,  richly  peopled  with  busy  hamlets, 
strong  thriving  towns,  with  innumerable  castles  and  fortresses  in 
the  distance. 

^'  In  the  midst  of  this  spacious  glowing  scene  of  fertility,  en- 
riched with  all  the  gems  of  art,  lay  Granada  like  some  proud  beauty, 
calm  and  stately,  seated  secure  in  her  own  spangled  halls.  From 
the  two  hills  which  she  crowned  with  her  numerous  sumptuous 
edifices,  the  Darro  and  the  Xenil  were  seen  mingling*  their  limpid 
waters,  in  which  the  peasant  not  unfirequently  gathered  the  purest 
grains  of  gold  and  silver.  The  most  conspicuous  objects  in  the  di^ 
rection  of  the  Darro,  flowing  through  the  valley  of  the  two  hills  and 
dividing  the  city,  were  the  palaee  of  the  Alhambra  and  the  Ver- 
milion Towers — the  former  venerable  in  the  eyes  of  the  Moor,  as 
the  grand  citadel  of  his  country's  glory ;  the  latter,  as  one  of  those 
monuments  which  seem  to  defy  the  calculations  of  time,  still  glowing 
midst  the  surrounding  ruins  of  a  fallen,  empire.  To  the  northward 
of  the  river,  rose  the  stem,  rude-looking  towers  of  the  Albaycin  and 
of  Alcazaba ;  while  the  broad  intervening  plain  was  covered  with 
the  light,  airy,  and  variously  adorned  dwellings  oi  the  wealthy  po- 
pulation." 

Granada  is  supposed  to  have  been  founded  bv  a  colony  of  Pheui- 
cians ;  from  them  it  came  into  the  possession  of  the  Romans;  from 
the  Romans  it  descended  to  the  Goths.  "  But  it  was  reserved  for 
the  Saracens  to  invest  it  with  all  the  strength  and  magnificence 
which  it  was  naturally  so  well  fitted  to  receive."  In  the  ber 
ginning  of  the  eighth  century,  it  gradually  arose  to  a  city  of 
wealth  and  population  under  the  victorious  Omniades.  To- 
wards the  end  of  the  thirteenth  century  Muley  Mohanamed 
AbdaUah  first  conceived  the  idea  of  erecting  the  Alhambra, 
which  was  so  magnificently  completed  by  his  successors. 

The  expense  of  the  erection  of  the  stupendous  palace  of  the  Al- 
hambra was  defrayed  by  money  levied  on  the  Jews  and  Christians. 
Subsequent  to  tlus  period  the  history  of  Granada  contains  little 
else  than  the  records  of  bloodshed,  tyranny,  and  civil  discord.  In 
1340,  Alphonso,  availing  himself  of  the  factious  divisions  existing  in 
Granada,  obtained  the  ascendency  over  the  Moors.  From  this 
time  Granada  became  involved  in  those  fatal  wars  with  the  kings  of 
Castile,  which  terminated  in  the  destruction  of  the  city,  and  the 
expulsion  of  the  Moors  from  Europe.  In  1453,  Ismael,  having 
eiS^cted  all  that  valour  and  prudence  could  achieve,  was  finally  com- 


The  AnrntaU  fw  18^5.  429 

pefled  to  jmrchase  peace  at  the  expense  of  dm  atmual  tribttte  of  60Q 
Christian  captives  or  as  many  Moors,  when  the  Chnstians  were  ex- 
hausted, besides  the  fine  of  12,000  ducats. 

But  Muley  Ibn  Hassan,  as  we  have  shown  m  the  commmcemeot* 
of  our  narrative,  scorning  to  be  beholden  for  his  regal  rights  to  the 
powers  of  Spain,  threw  oiF  his  allegiance  and  refused  tlie  tribute 
granted  by  his  predecessor. 

This  refusal  renewed  the  quarrel  between  Spain  and  Granada, 
and  was  finally  the  cause  that  the  proud  city  of  Granada  succumbed 
to  the  overwhelming  force  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella. 

The  next  scene  which  the  author  introduces  lies  in  the  palace  of 
the  GeneraUfe  or  the  Musion  of  Pleasure.     The  personages  repre- 
sented are  Ibn  Hammed^  a  magnanimous  {»ince  of  the  renowned 
house  of  the  Abencerages,  and  the  soft  and  gentle  Zelinda,  his  be- 
trothed.    Few  spots  could  be  better  adapted  for  a  love-scene  than 
the  one  chosen  by  our  author.     ^^  It  was  one  of  those  rich  deep 
flowing  evenings  of  an  Andalnsian  summer,  when  nature  in  all  her 
hixuriant  splendour  fills  earth,  and  air,  and  sky,  with  a  radiant 
beauty  unknown  to  other  lands.     Every  object  seemed  imbued  with 
a  glory^  an  elasticity  of  existence,  irresistibly  inspiring,  and  en- 
chanting to  the  eye.  Each  flower,  and  shrub,  and  tree,  shone  with 
their  own  peculiarly  ripe  and   dazzling  hues.     The  myrtle,   the 
citroii,  the  camellia,  and  the  rose,  over-arched  by  stately  palm  and 
cypress,  and  fed  from  the  pure  sparkling  waters  and  breezy  incense 
of  the  hills,  shed  an  inefiable  sweetness  through  the  clear,  mild 
heaven,  reflecting  its  deep  purple  light  upon  tower  and  stream; 
while   the  nightingale  from   her  favourite  tree  filled  the  garden- 
bowers  with  a  thrill  of  passionate  delight,  in  perfect  unison  with  the 
hour  and  scene."     In  this  delightful  spot,  while  Ibn  Hammed  is  en- 
deavouring to  dispel  the  apprehensions  of  Zelinda^  in  the  ensuing 
wars,  and  while,   trembling  with  rage,  he   denounces  vengeance 
against  his  rival  Aba  Abdallah,  better  known  by  the  name  of 
Boabdil^  and  sumamed  El  Zagoybi  the  Unhappy,  the  prince  of  the 
reigning  monarchy   ''  wild  sounds  came,  borne  upon  the  night- 
winds^  of  mingled  fury  and  lamentation.     Gathering  firesh  strength 
as  they  rose  into  general  tumult,  which  fell  portentously  upon  the 
ear^  he  clasped  the  weeping  beauty  in  his  arms,  and  bearing  her  to 
the  nearest  saloon,  consigned  her  to  the  care  of  her  maidens^  and 
rushed  eagerly  to  learn  the  source  of  so  fierce  an  outcry  at  the  dead 
hour  of  night.     As  he  hurried  down  the  shady  avenues  of  the 
Alhambra,  he  saw  approaching  a  vast  concourse  of  people  directii^ 
their  rage  against  the  palace  of  Muley  Hassan,  and  filling  the  air 
with  deep  universal  lament."    '^  Alhama !  woe  is   me,  Alhama ; 
accursed  be  Muley  Hassan  !     How  long  shall  he  betray  the  fctithful 
into  the  hands  of  the  Christian  spoiler.    Alhama  is  no  more  1*'  were 
the  wild  cries  of  the  insurgents.  The  nobles  proceeded  to  the  palace, 
and  were  calling  on  Muley  to  pay  the  tribute  to  the  Castilian  mo- 
narchy or  surrender  the  crown,  when  the  noble  Abenceorage  made 


430  the  Amwfls/or  1835. 

his  appearance.     The  insurrection  wais  finally  pacifieS  by  the'  elo- 
quence of  Aben  Kassim. 

When  Alhama  had  yielded  to  the  power  of  the  victorious  Spa- 
niards, the  first  effi>rts  of  Muley  ^ere  directed  to  dispossess 
Ferdinand  of  his  newly  acquired  strong-hold  in  the  territory  of 
Granada.  It  was  the  misfortune  of  the  Moors,  at  this  eventful 
period,  that,  while  their  country  was  threatened  by  a  foreign  enemv 
without,  the  state  itself  should  be  harassed  by  internal  factions  and 
dissensions.  At  the  period  when  the  children  of  Mohammed  should 
have  been  united  in  the  common  cause  of  their  beloved  country,  Gra- 
nada represented  the  mournful  and  desolate  picture  of  a  nation 
torn  asunder  by  the  worse  species  of  party-spirit. 

While  Muley  was  pressing  the  siege  of  Alhama  with  unremitting 
vigour,  his  son  Abn  Abdallah  and  the  Sultana  Aixa  were  plotting  to 
deprive  him  of  his  crown.  Alhama  was  on  the  point  of  surrendering 
to  the  Moors,  when  the  monarch  was  informed  of  the  treacherous 
proceedings  of  his  wife  and  son.  Abn  Abdallah  and  his  accomplice 
were  apprehended  and  confined  for  a  short  time  in  the  Tower  of 
Couards.  But  they  speedily  effected  their  escape — and  from  this 
attempt  of  the  ambitious  Abn  Abdallah  must  be  dated  those  dread- 
ful wars  between  two  competitors  for  the  crown,  which  deluged  Gra* 
Aada  ih  the  richest  blood  of  her  heroes.  Abn  Abdallah  had  ingra- 
tiated himself  with  the  lower  classes  of  the  people,  who  acknowledged 
him  as  king ;  Muley  was  supported  in  his  rightful  claim  by  the 
nobility;  and  hence  arose  those  dreadful  contentions  which  were  the 
principal  cause  of  the  destruction  of  the  kindom.  The  usurper,  how- 
ever, increased  in  his  popularity,  and  acquired  more  extensive  sway 
by  inviting  Ferdinand  to  his  assistence.  This  suited  the  policy  of 
Ferdinand,  who,  whilst  he  aided  one  party,  he  was  directing  his  owt^ 
views  to  the  destruction  of  the  Moors.  But  though  the  late  un- 
fortunate monarch  was  finally  rendered  unable  to  ofier  fiirther  op- 
position to  his  ambitious  son,  Abn  Abdallah  was  not  destined  to  enjoy 
his  crown  in  peace.  He  met  another  formidable  rival  in  the  brothar. 
to  the  late  Icing,  El  Zagal,  who  now  aspired  to  the  royal  honours,^ 
which  had  been  unjustly  usurped  by  his  nephew.  It  is  impossible 
for  us  to  detail  the  numerous  and  Various  engagements  of  the  rival 
kings,  or  the  inroads  which  the  Spanish  invaders  continued  to, 
make  into  the  country  of  the  Moors  during  these  violent  commo* 
tions.  The  reversion  of  fortune  which  attended  either  party  is 
generally  known  to  our  readers.  The  result  of  thes.e  civil  distur- 
bances was,  the  success  which  finally  attended  the  victorious  arnv 
of  Spain.  "Thus  closed,"  we  may  say  with  our  author,  "  in  the  two- 
fold darkness  of  a  religious  and  political  doom,  the  eventfiil  career 
of  this  high  spirited  and  remarkable  people.  Distinguished  above 
all  of  eastern  or  even  European  descent  by  their  religions,  their 
brilliant  valour,  their  unrivalled  ingienuity,  and  their  renown  in  arts 
and  learning, — the  influence  they  exercised  on  the  mind  of  Europe, 
roused  her  from  her  torpor  and  barbarism  of  ages,  to.. an  energy^a 


The  AnMaU  for  1835.  431 

Spirit  and  glory  of  enteriaise  which  we  attribute  too  little  to  it» 
primary  source.  But  the  poet  still  bewails  their  fsSiy  because  in  th< 
days  of  their  prosperity  they  were  great  and  heroic;  the  philosopher 
contemplates  it  as  the  result  of  necessary  causes ;  the  Christiani 
better  and  more  truly,  as  one  of  the  acts  in  the  mighty  scheme  of  a 
divine, mysterious  Providence."  We  must  now  advert  td  the  more 
romantic  part  of  Mr.  Roscoe's  History  of  Granada.  We  have  pre- 
viously shown  that  Abn  Abdallah  entertained  a  passionate  regard 
for  Zelinda,  and,  also,  that  Ali  Atar  the  father  of  Zelinda  had  be- 
trothed her  to  Ibn  Hammed  of  the  renowned  house  of  the  Abeu- 
cerages.  Abn  Abdallah  finding  it  impossible  to  obtain  her  consent 
by  placing  before  her  the  alluring  temptations  of  the  splendour  of  a 
sultana's  diadem,  had  recourse  to  more  wily  and  intrigruing  measures. 
This  wicked  prince,  having  convoked  a  general  assembly  of  the 
chieis  and  elders  in  the  Gate  oi  Justice,  solemnly  consented  to  the 
proposed  union  of  Zelinda  and  Ibn  Hammed,  on  condition  that  the 
celebrated  Abencerage  should  first  redeem  his  pledge,  by  his  ex-, 
ploits  against  the  infidels  of  Arragon  and  Castile.  Ibn  Hammed 
consented  to  obey,  or  to  forfeit  honour  and  love !  After  having  sig- 
nalized himself  in  every  field  where  the  glory  of  his  country  was  dis- 
puted, fortune  seemed  to  have  deserted  his  cause  on  the  plains  of 
Lucena.  Borne  on  the  shields  of  his  friends  from  that  memorable 
encounter,  he  had  the  horror  of  at  once  beholding  the  glory  of  his 
country  eclipsed,  and  the  desolation,  of  his  fondest  hopes.  When 
opening  his  eves  to  returning  consciousness^  he  saw  the  form  of  her 
he  loved  bending  over  him  in  the  agony  of  her  sorrow,  the  fiill  ex- 
tent of  his  misfortunes  rushed  darkly  across  his  spirit.  The  dreaded 
penalty  of  his  rash  vow  pierced,  with  the  sharpness  of  the  barbed 
shaft,  to  his  inmost  heart.  He  had  lost ;  and  in  the  impulse  of 
his  despair  would  have  torn  the  bandages  from  his  wounds,  alike 
inaces'sible  to  the  consolations  of  his  friends,  and  the  sad  appeal  and 
prayers  of  his  beloved.  In  the  civil  broils  which  shook  the  ill  fated 
empire  of  Granada,  after  the  resignation  of  Muley,  he  had  espoused 
the  caujse  Of  El  Zagal,  and  now  lay  in  the  hands  of  his  merciless  and 
liated  enemy  the  usurping  prince  Abn  Abdallah.  Th^  prince  seemed 
to  have  attained  the  summit  of  his  desires.  He  appears  before  thq 
constant  Zelinda,  and  demands  her  consent  to  their  union,  and  on 
her  refusing,  vows  by  Allah  that  she  shall  behold  her  long  loved 
Abencerage  die  before  her. 

^*  'Oh  God !  then  he  must  die!'  she  exclaimed."  'Would  I  had  the 
sool  of  Hammed,  or  Heaven's  lightning  to  strike  thee  dead !  Ah  go 
not  yet— only  give  me  time.* 

**  ^Not  a  moment!  insisted  tl  e  relentless  monarch,' as  he  drew  her 
towards  a  balcony  which  looked  upon  one  of  the  courts  of  the  tower 
of  the  seven  vaults.  '  See  where  the  sword  of  judgment  hangs  sus- 
pended by  thy  hand  over  the  head  of  yon  noble  chief;  and  thou 
shall  behold  it  fall!'        .        *        .  *  * 

''Then  for  the  first  time,  she  yielded  to  the  terrors  of  her  soul; 
■peaol^ess,  breathless,  and  as  if  dreading  that  the  next  moment 


4M  Tke  AnnuaU  for  1835. 

might  come  too  late,  site  placed  her  hand  within  that  of  Abn  Abdal^ 
lah^  her  eyes  still  bent  on  that  appalling  sight,  with  a  fftscination  of 
horror  too  intense  for  outward  sign  or  expression.  She  resigned 
herself^  like  a  statue  of  living  woe,  into  the  arms  of  the  prince,  and 
consented  to  become  the  bride  of  Abdallah  the  sultan  of  Granada." 

From  the  specimens  we  have  selected  from  Mr.  Koseoe's  roman« 
tic  history  of  Granada,  the  reader  may  form  an  accurate  judgment 
of  the  noveltyof  hisplan,and  theabiUty  of  itsexecution*  We  havenot 
conducted  our  readers  to  the  last  scenes  of  the  lovely  Zelinda,  and 
the  valiant  Ibn  Hammed,  but  we  have  endeavoured  to  give  oar 
readers  an  idea  of  a  work  which  contains  history  and  romance  so 
pleasingly  and  admirably  combined. 

The  Oriental  Annual  for  1835  appears  to  comprise  every  thing 
that  could  render  it  entertaining  and  useful.  It  contains  history 
interspersed  with  the  most  interesting  anecdotes.  It  gives  a  faith* 
ful  view  of  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  countries  it  describes. 
In  short,  it  includes  a  great  deal  worthy  of  observation  in  the 
Indian  scenes  which  it  represents.. 

*  The  patronage  afforded  by  the  public  to  the  proprietors  of  the 
Oriental  Annual  on  a  former  occasion,  has  again  induced  them  to 
leave  nothing  undone,  which  could  render  the  present  volume  still 
more  deserving  of  encouragement.  We  are  given  to  understand 
that  this  valuable  Annual  will  be  continued  in  yearly  volumes,  every 
three  forming  a  distinct  series.  Thus,  the  first  series  will  contain 
descriptions  of  the  three  English  Presidencies,  Madras,  Calcutta, 
and  Bombay :  the  volume  describing  Madras  has  already  appeared 
before  the  public,  the  present  describes  Calcutta,  and  the  third 
volume,  which  will  compete  the  first  series,  will  describe  Bombay. 

In  our  review  of  this  work  we  shall  not  confine  ourselves  to  follow 
the  author  in  his  tour,  but  we  shall  select  what  appears  to  be  illnB* 
trative  of  the  scenery  of  the  countrv,  its  curiosities,  and  the  charac- 
teristic manners  of  the  natives ;  which,  we  think,  will  contribate 
more  to  the  interest  and  gratification  of  our  readers. 

Upon  quitting  Hurdwar  our  author  directed  his  route  towards 
the  mountains.  The  first  object  which  appears  to  have  caught  the 
attention  of  our  traveller  after  again  renewing  his  journey,  was  a  re* 
markable  banyan  tre^,  near  the  banks  of  the  Ganges.  The  tree 
was  of  an  unusual  dimension.  Tlie  stem  was  excavated  so  as  to 
form  a  spacious  chamber,  which  was  converted  into  a  temple,  dedi* 
cated  to  the  Hindoo  Godhead.  This  singular  temple  is  visited  by 
a  number  of  pilgrims,  who  are  supposed  to  acquire  a  mystical  puri- 
fication by  entering  on  one  side  and  passing  out  on  the  other.  On 
entering  the  mountains  by  the  Coaduwar  gnaut  our  author  and  tra- 
veUing  companions  received  tl^  disheartening  in£)rmation  that  the 
snow  had  begun  to  fall.  *^  As  we  advanced,  the  sky  appeared  to 
be  tinged  with  a  deep  diiq^  red,  and  upon  suddenly  emeiging  fiom 
a  narrow  glen,  to  our  astonishment  the  distant  mountains  seemed 
to  be  in  a  blaze.  The  fire  swept  up  their  sides  to  the  extent  of 
several  miles>  undulating  like  the  agitated  waves  of  the  ocean^  whev 


The  Jnnwtl^for  1835.  483 

teddened  by  the  slanting  beams  of  the  setting  sun.  It  was  like  an 
ignited  sea,  exhibiting  an  effect  at  once  new  and  fearful."  This 
striking  phenomenon  is  not  by  any  means  uncommon,  and  is  ac- 
comited  for  by  the  larger  bamboos,  as  they  are  swayed  by  the  wind, 
emitting  fire  from  their  hard  glossy  stems,  through  the  violence  of 
their  friction,  and  thus  spreading  destruction  through  the  mountain 
forest. 

The  following  is  the  author's  description  of  the  sillenies  or  por- 
ters. *^  It  is  wonderfiil  to  see  with  what  agility  the  sillenies  scale 
the  steep  acclivities,  where  there  often  appears  scarcely  footing  for 
a  goat,  with  loads  which  would  distress  any  person  of  ordinary 
strength,  even  upon  level  ground  :  they  carry  with  them  bamboos 
crossed  at  the  top  by  a  short  transverse  stick,  in  the  form  of  the 
ancient  Greek  T,  upon  which  they  rest  their  loads  when  fatigued. 
They  are  generally  small  men,  but  their  limbs  are  large,  and  the 
muscles  strongly  developed,  from  the  severe  exercise  to  which  their 
laborious  employment  subjects  them.  Their  legs  are  frequently 
disfigured  by  varicose  veins,  which  dilate  to  the  size  of  a  man's 
little  finger,  appearing  like  cords  twisted  round  their  liipbs,  and 
causing  in  the  spectator  a  somewhat  painful  feeling  of  apprehension; 
lest  they  should  suddenly  burst — a  consequence  that  could  not  fail 
to  be  fatal." 

As  our  travellers  proceeded,  the  road  began  to  be  difficult  and 
perilous.  *'  The  waters  of  the  Coah  Vullah  dashed  beneath  o\xt 
path  over  their  narrow  rocky  bed,  foaming  and  hissing  on  their  way 
to  the  parent  stream,  of  which  they  formed  one  of  the  numerous  ac- 
cessories. The  channel  is  occasionally  almost  choked  with  huge 
masses  of  rock,  which  fall  from  the  beetling  precipices  above,  and 
feo  interrupt  the  course  of  the  stream,  that  it  boils  and  lashes  over 
them. with  an  uproar  truly  appalling,  especially  when  the  traveller 
casts  his  anxious  eye  upon  it  while  crossing  one  of  those  frail  bridges, 
6ver  which  he  is  so  frequently  obliged  to  pass  in  a  journey  through 
these  mountains." 

On  the  road  to  Serinagur,  after  descending  the  bleak  sides  of  a 
mountain  bared  of  vegetation  by  one  of  those  conflagrations  al- 
ready noticed,  they  came  to  a  valley  overhung  by  the  peaks  of 
mountains,  which  seemed  to  support  the  firmament — ^the  scene  is 
thus  described.  *'  Here,  on  the  bare  and  scarped  sides  of  the  pre- 
cipice above,  pine-trees  blasted  or  riven  by  the  lightning,  rattled 
thieir  seared  trunks  in  the  wind,  which,  moaning  through  them 
in  low  hollow  gusts,  seemed  to  a  saddened  spirit  like  the  wail- 
ing of  the  de&d.  Looking  at  the  sky  from  this  dismal  valley,  as  if 
from  the  interior  of  a  huge  funnel,  the  stars  were  visible  as  shining 
through  a  pall.  The  heavens  appeared  to  be  one  uniform  tint  <rf 
the  deepest  purple,  whilst  the  brilliancy  with  which  the  stars  emitted 
their  vivid  fires,  altogether  baffles  description;  they  shone  intensely 
bright,  and  although  it  at  least  wanted  two  hours  of  sunset^  night 


484  ne  AmmaU  for  1835. 

8«emed  already  to  have  established  its  supremacy.     Nothing  oould 
exceed  the  splendour  of  the  scene/' 

A  violent  thunder  storm,  which  overtook  the  travellers  on  the 
third  day  after  their  departure  from  Coaduwarghaut^  is  thus  magni- 
ficently described : — 

^^  Ob  the  morning  of  this  day  we  had  observed  that  the  motion 
of  the  clouds  gradually  increased,  the  fleecy  masses  occasionally 
meeting,  and  variously  blending  with  the  sun-beams,  from  whica 
they  reflected  a  great  variety  of  beautiful  tints^  thus  imparting  aa 
agreeable  colouring  to  the  surrounding  landscape.     The  sky  was 
bright  above  us,  though  the  atmosphere  was  sultry  and  oppressive. 
The  rays  at  length  spread  over  the  hills,  skimming  rapidly  along 
their  precipitous  sides,  and  occasionally  rolling  in  undulatmg  vo- 
lumes, deepening  as  it  expanded  upon  their  bare  or  shaggy  tops, 
and  assuming  forms  the  most  singular  and  fantastic.     In  the  course 
of  a  few  minutes  after  we  had  observed  the  hurried  gathering  of  the 
clouds,  without  any  further  indication,  the  sky  became  suddenly 
overcast,  involving  us  in  a  gloom  so  intense  as  to  render  every  ol>- 
ject  within  a  few  yards  of  us  perfectly  indistinct.    The  rain  auickly 
poured  down  upon  us  in  a  deluge.     The  lightning  streamea  from 
the  clouds  as  from  a  mighty  reservoir,  wrapping  the  whole  moun- 
tain in  flames,  and  literally,  in  the  words  of  scripture  '  ran  along  the 
ground.'    The  flashes  were  so  quick  in  succession,  that  there  was 
only  the  pause  of  a  few  seconds  between  them,  while  the  peals  of 
thunder  which  followed,  were  almost  deafening.     The  loud   and 
successive  peals  were  multipUed  to  such  a  degree  by  the  surround- 
ing echoes,  that  there  was  one  continued  and  tremendous  crash  of 
several  minutes^  and  at  the  first  pause,  the  silence  was  so  intense 
as  to  be  positively  painful.  The  thunder  was  repeated  from  rock  to 
rock^  rollmg  along  the  valleys  as  if  subverting  the  very  bases  of  the 
hills,  and  finally  pushing  its  portentous  roar  in  those  intenniuable 
glens,  where  the  eye  cannot  penetrate,  and  even  the  contemplation 
of  which,  causes  the  brain  to  whirl." 

At  Seriuagur  Mr.  Hobart  Gaunter  had  an  opportunity  of  visiting 
the  Rajah's  stable,  where  there  was  an  animal  of  the  bovine  apeciee, 
called  the  Yak.  This  animal  is  five  feet  high,  and  bears  some  re- 
semblance to  an  English  bull.  Fine  glossy  hair  hangs  from  its 
flanks  down  to  the  hocks.  Its  food  is  chiefly  milk.  Its  1^;8  are 
short,  its  eyes  large,  and  its  forehead  protrudes  considerably ;  the 
nostrils  are  small  but  open,  the  neck  is  short  and  arched,  between 
the  shoulders  there  is  a  high  hump  covered  with  short  curly  hair. 
The  hides  are  commonly  converted  into  an  outer  garment  for  the 
herdsmen,  the  long  hair  is  manufactured  into  a  sort  of  tent  clotii, 
and  the  yak's  tail  is  indispensable  in  the  costume  of  an  eastern  courL 
Speaking  of  the  Hill-Men  or  the  Himalaya  Mountaineers,  Mr. 
Hobart  Gaunter  gives  a  very  entertaining  account  of  this  singular 
race  of  men.     They  are  generally  small  of  stature.     Accustomed  to 


The  AnnmU  for  1 835.  43g 

labour  from  their  infancy,  they  are  able  to  endure  any  severity  of 
climate.  A  hillman  will  sometimes  carry  a  burden  from  ninety  to 
a  hundred  pounds  to  a  distance  of  eighteen  miles  over  the  most 
I'^gcd  paths.  In  appearance  they  are  cowardly  and  degraded,  but 
in  many  respect  they  are  an  extraordinary  race.  Their  diet  is 
extremely  temperate.  Their  houses  are  generally  convenient,  and 
sufBcientlv  clean :  they  are  two  stories  high,  the  rooms  are  floored 
with  planks  of  pine,  and  the  windows  are  merely  apertures  in  the 
wall.  The  fireplace  is  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  consisting  of  a 
stone  hearth.  The  family  sleep  together  on  one  bed,  which  is  merely 
a  layer  of  soft  grass  spread  in  a  corner  of  the  room. 

From  Serinagur  our  travellers  proceeded  to  Nujibabad  and  thence 
to  Kerutpoor.  Through  Chandpore  and  Sumbul  they  arrived  at 
the  modern  city  of  Delhi,  the  seat  of  the  M ahommedan  empire  in 
Hindostan.  This  city  was  built  by  Shah  Jehan  in  the  seventeenth 
century.  It  is  seven  miles  in  circumference,  and  is  situated  on  the 
Jumma.  The  once  magnificent  city  is  covered  with  splendid  ruins. 
The  gardens  of  Shobinar  are  now  so  completely  in  ruins,  that  hardly 
a  vestige  of  their  former  magnificence  remains.  The  plain  is  crowd- 
ed with  piles  of  fallen  mosques,  mausoleums,  paliaces,  colleges, 
seraglios,  and  appears  to  be  the  gloomy  sepulchre  of  ruined  great- 
ness. During  his  stay  at  Delhi,  Mr.  Hobart  Gaunter  chanced  to 
meet  a  Gossein  standing  with  his  back  against  a  broken  pillar. 
The  Gossein  had  a  thick  iron  rod  passed  through  his  cheeks  rivetted 
at  each  end,  from  which  a  circular  piece  of  iron  depended,  inclosing 
his  chin.  The  iron  rod  did  not  affect  his  articulation,  but  Mr. 
Hobart  Gaunter  having  invited  him  into  his  tent,  he  became  very 
communicative  and  entered  into  conversation  upon  the  strange 
events  of  his  life.  He  was  a  man  rather  advanced  in  years,  and  had 
never  sat  down  for  thirteen  years.  This  penance  he  had  voluntarily 
imposed  on  himself.  He  had  made  a  vow  to  remain  erect  for  the 
space  of  fifteen  years.  Besides  this  infliction,  he  had  so  bent  the 
fingers  of  his  left  hand  as  to  form  an  angle  with  the  back  of  his 
hand:  moreover  he  had  been  suspended  from  the  branch  of  a  tree, 
for  a  whole  year,  by  a  cord  with  a  strong  bamboo  crossing  the  end, 
upon  which  he  sat  while  a  strap  confined  him  to  the  rope  and  thu9 
prevented  his  falling. 

**  Whilst  we  remained  at  Delhi,  I  could  not  help  contrasting  the 
wretched  condition  of  the  reigning  emperor  with  that  of  its  former 
sovereigns,  who  established  the  Mogul  dominion  ixpon  the  ruins  of 
the  Afghan  or  Patau  dynasty  and  erected  the  standard  of  the  cres- 
cent in  almost  every  district  of  Hindostan.  The  late  emperor  Shah 
Allum  the  second  exhibited  in  his  establishment  the  sad  decline 
into  which  the  Mahomedan  sovereignety  had  fallen. 

''  In  1 788,  Gholaum  Kaudir,  a  Rohilla  chief,  having  obtained  the 
confidence  of  the  weak,  but  virtuous.  Shah  Allum,  made  a  sudden 
attack  upon  the  city  of  Delhi.  He  made  himself  master  of  the 
town,  and  imprisoned  the  monarch.     Shah  Allum  was  subjected  to 

VOL.  ui.      (1834.)   NO.  III.  H  H 


436  The  Annuals  for  1835. 

the  most  atrocious  mdigniti(^>  and  finally  had  hisieyes  torn  out  by 
this  brutcJ  monster.  The  Rohilla  chief  was  in  turn  captured  bj 
Eahadajee  Scindia,  who  marched  with  his  armv  to  the  lescue  of 
the  fallen  monarch  of  Delhi.  After  undergoing  the  most  excrucial- 
ing  torments,  Gholaum  Kaudir  was  confined  iu  an  iron  cage*  sus- 
pended from  a  beam,  in  the  front  of  the  army.  His  nose,  oars^ 
hands,  and  feet  were  cut  off,  his  eyes  forced  out  of  their  sockets* 
and  in  this  state  he  was  ordered  to  be  conducted  on  a  lean  cam^ 
unto  the  presence  of  Shah  AUum.  This  punishment  he  bore  witb 
undaunted  heroism,  and  expired  on  his  way  to  Shah.Allum,  from 
extreme  thirst.     It  had  previously  been  ordered  by  his  inexorable 

{'udge,  that  nothing  should  be  given  to  him  either  to  eat  or  drink  ; 
lis  death  must,  therefore,  have  been  one  of  intense  agony." 

The  following  is  the  description  of  the  seraglio  of  an  Eastern 
emperor. — '^  In  the  seraglio  are  educated  the  Mogul  princes,  and 
the  principal  youth  among  the  nobles,  destined  for  posts  of  responsi* 
bility  in  the  empire.  It  is  generally  separated  from  the  palace^  but 
so  nearly  contiguous  as  to  be  ready  of  access.  None  are  admitted 
within  its  apartments  but  the  emperor  and  those  immediately  at- 
tached  to  its  several  offices,  the  duties  of  which  are  performea  by 
women.  It  is  generally  inclosed  by  lofty  walls,  and  surrounded  by 
spacious  gardens,  laid  out  with  all  the  splendour  of  eastern  magr 
mficence,  where  every  luxury  is .  obtained  which  the  appetite  may 
demand,  or  money  caa  procure.  Those  inmates  who  form  the  ma- 
trimonial confederacy  of  the  Mogul  potentate  are  among  the  roost 
beautiful  girls  which  the  empire  can  furnish.  These  lovely,  captives 
are  never  permitted  to  appear  abroad,  except  when  the  emperor 
travels,  and  then  they  are  conveyed  in  litters  closed  by  curtains,  or 
in  boats  with  small  cabins,  admitting  the  light  and  air  only  through 
narrow  Venetian  blinds. 

'^  The  apartments  of  the  seraglio  are  splendid,  always,  however, 
of  course,  u  proportion  to  the  wealth  of  the  prince ;  and  the  favou- 
rite object  of  his  affection  exhibits  the  dignity,  and  enioys  the 
Kivileges  of  a  queen,   though  a  queen  in  captivity.     While  ber 
auty  lasts,  she  is  frequently  regarded  with  a  feeling  amounting  to 
idolatry;  but  when  that  beauty  passes  away,  the  warmth  of  love 
subsides.    The  favourite,  however,  while  she  continues  her  ascend- 
ancy over  the  heart  of  her  lord,  is  treated  with  sovereign  respect 
throughout  the  harem.     She  smokes  her  golden-tubed  hooka,  the 
mouth-piece  studded  with^gems,   and  enioys   the  fresh   morning 
breeze  under  a  verandah  that  overlooks  the  gardens  of  the  palace^ 
attended  by  her  damsels,  only  second  to  herself  in  attractions  of 
person,  and  splendour  of  attire.     Here  she  reclines  in  oblivious  re* 
pose,  upon  a  rich  embroidered  carpet  from  the  most  celebrated  looms 
of  Persia.      Through  an  atmosphere  of  the  richest  incense,  she 
breathes  the  choicest  perfumes  of  Arabia,  and  has  every  thing  round 
her  that  can  administer  to  sensual  delight;  yet  still  she  is  generallT 
sa  nnhappy  being.     She  dwells  in  the  midst  of  splendid  misery  and 


The  AnnmkfoT  1835.  43? 

migraiifyiBg  profiisiaii^  while  all  within  her  is  desoktion  and  hope* 
kasnesfl.  Her  aympathies  are  either  warped  or  stifled ;  her  heart 
is  l»Kghted^  and  her  mind  degraded.*^ 

The  aathor  gives  a  very  curioQS  account  of  the  celebrated  Noor 
Jehan,  the  favourite  empress  of  Jehangire.  She  was  the  daughter 
of  Chaia  Aiass,  a  native  of  Western  Tartary.  Chaja  Aiass  was 
descenaed  of  an  ancient  and  noble  race^  but^  owing  to  the  vicissi- 
tudes of  fertane,  he  was^  previous  to  the  birth  of  his  daughter,  in 
the  extremity  of  distress.  Hoping  to  repair  the  loss  of  his  fortune, 
he  quitted  his  country  for  Hindostan.  Having  become  enamoured 
of  a  young  woman,  he  married.  His  family  were  so  indignant  at 
the  unequal  match,  that  they  discarded  him.  Chaja  Aiass  highly 
moensed,  mounted  his  wife  on  an  old  horse,  and  walking  by  her 
side,  proceeded  to  the  capital  of  the  renowned  Akbad.  I'hey  had 
not  taxen  nourishment  for  three  days,  when,  in  addition  to  his  mi- 
sery, his  wife  was  seized  with  the  pains  of  labour.  '^  Assisted  only 
by  her  wretched  husband,  she  gave  birdi  to  a  daughter.  They  were 
in  the  midst  of  a  vast  desert,  where  the  foot  of  man  but  seldom 
penetrated,  and  had  no  other  prospect  but  of  perishing  with  hunger 
or  by  wild  beasts.  Chaja  Aiass  having  placed  his  wife  upon  the 
horse,  as  soon  as  he  coula  do  so  with  safety,  found  himself  unable  to 
follow  with  the  infont.  The  mother  was  too  weak  to  carry  it,  and 
there  was  but  one  alternative,  l^he  struggle  of  nature  was  a  severe 
one;  there  was,  however,  no  choice  left  between  death  and  parental 
subjugations. 

**  It  was  agreed  by  the  half-distracted  parents,  that  the  new-bom 
pledge  of  their  affection  must  be  abandoned.  They  covered  it  with 
leaves,  and  left  it  in  the  path,  to  the  mercy  of  that  God  who  can 
t>roteet  the  babe  in  the  desert,  as  well  as  the  sovereign  on  hit 
throne.  The  miserable  pair  pursued  their  journey  ifi  silence,  and 
in  agony.  After  a  short  progress,  the  invincible  yearnings  of  na- 
ture pr^valied  over  the  torments  of  hunger  aud  thirst,  and  the  be- 
reaved mother  called  distractedly  for  her  child.  The  husband  re- 
traced his  steps,  but  wiis  paralyzed  with  horror,  on  arriving  at 
the  spot  where  he  had  left  his  infant,  to  See  a  large  black  snake 
wreathed  round  it.  In  the  paaroxysm  of  desperation,  he  ^shed 
forward,  when  the  monster,  gradudly  uncoiling  itself,  retired  into 
the  hollow  of  a  tree.  He  snatched  up  ihe  diild,  and  bore  it  in 
ectasy  to  the  anxious  mother.  It  had  deceived  no  hurt,  and  whilst 
by  their  caresses  they  were  expressinl^  their  ekuitation  at  its  singu- 
lar esclipe,  some  travelers  overtook  them,  who  supplied  them  with 
food,  and  enabled  theitn  to  Tesuilie  their  jdurney.  They  advanced 
by  easy  stages  tiU  they  fetched  Lahore.^' 

In  this  town  Chaja  Aiass  attracted  the  notice  of  the  reigning 
emperor,  and  in  process  of  time  was  created  treasurer  of  the 
empire.  In  the  meantime  his  dshighter  grew  up,  excelling  all  the 
loveliest  Wonted  of  the  e&st,  and  suTpassing  all  in  vivacity  of  wit 
and  vigour  of  understanding.    The  emperor's  son  Selitn  beos^iM 


4^  The  Annuah  for  1 835 . 

enamoured  of  her,  and  demanded  her  in  marriage,  but  she  had  been 
long  betrothed  to  a  noble  Turkoman,  Shere  Af  kun,  to  whom  she 
was  finally  married.     On  Selim's  ascending  the  throne  under  the 
name  of  Jehangire,  he  became  the  bitter  foe  of  his  successful  rival. 
Shere  Af kun's  life  was  aimed  at  in  every  direction ;  and  after  im- 
mortalizing his  name  by  bravely  resisting  the  repeated  treacheries 
of  Selim,  Shere  Af  kun  at  length  fell  beneath  the  sword  of  a  mer- 
cenary assassin.     Noor  Jehan  on  the  death  of  her  husband  {was 
immediately  transported  to  Delhi,  but  the  emperor,  either  from 
policy  or  remorse,  refused  to  see  her.     While  she  thus  lived  unre- 
garded in  the  emperor's  seraglio,  she  employed  her  time  in  workings 
tj^pestry  and  all  kinds  of  embroidery,  and  in  painting  silks  with  tiie 
richest  devices.     In  a  short  time  the  exquisite  productions  of  her 
taste  became  the  talk  of  the  capital.     The  accomplishments  of  ihia 
singular  woman  were  soon  carried  to  the  ears  of  the  emperor,  and  he 
resolved  to  see  her.     At  the  sight  of  her  unrivalled  beauty,  in  the 
words  of  our  author,  ^'  he  was  dazzled  by  the  perfection  of  her  form, 
the  dignity  of  her  mien,  and  the  transcendent  loveliness  of  her 
featui^es.      Advancing  to  where  she  stood  in  the  plenitude  (^  her 
beauty,  he  took  her  hand,  declared  his  resolution  to  make  her  has 
empress,  and  immediately  a  proclamation  was  issued  for  the  oelebra^ 
tion  of  the  royal  nuptials  with  the  lovely  relict  of  the  late  Shere 
Afkun. 

<'  One  of  the  most  striking  objects  in  the  modem  city  of  Delhi, 
though  by  no  means  one  of  the  most  magnificent,  is  the  tomb  of 
Tufter  Jung,  a  M ahommedan  chieftain  of  some  repute,  who  died 
about  the  middle  of  last  century.  This  structure  is  ranked  among 
the  best  architectural  works  of  New  Delhi.  It  is  surrounded  by  a 
large  garden,  inclosed  by  a  high  wall,  above  which  the  dome  and 
minor  cupolas  of  the  edifice  appear  with  great  effect,  when  beheld 
from  the  plain  without.  The  body  of  the  building  is  composed  by 
light  red  stone  tasselated  with  white  marble,  beautifully  contrasting 
its  pure  light  surface  with  the  dull  red  of  the  mass  which  forms  the 
monument.  The  dome  is  entirely  of  white  marble  rising  majesti- 
cally over  the  body  of  the  edifice,  and  relieved  against  a  clear  blue 
sky,  which  seems  to  be  its  native  element,  as  if  it  were  the  aerial 
abode  of  some  guardian  angel  watching  the  slumbers  of  the  dead, 
reduced  to  its  primitive  dust  in  a  capacious  sarcophagus  below." 

We  must  here  reluctantly  pass  over  in  silence,  the  Rajpootni 
Bride  and  the  Tea  Dealer,  two  very  interesting  anecdotes,  with 
which  our  author  so  pleasingly  enhvens  the  descriptive  details  of 
his  work,  and  continue  to  follow  him  in  his  journey  through  Juan- 
poor  to  the  splendid  City  of  Benares.  On  his  way  to  Juanpoor, 
our  author  notices  a  degraded  race  of  men,  who  are  designated  by 
the  name  of  Pariahs.  They  are  despised  by  every  order  of  Hindoos, 
as  beings  not  only  despicable  in  this  world,  but  sJiens  from  the  bea- 
titudes of  another.  I'hcy  are  not  allowed  to  associate  with  men  of 
any  other  caste  but  their  own ;  they  are  shunned  and  degraded 


The  AnmaU  for  1835.  4S9 

bdow  the  vilest  of  the  brute  creation.  If  even  the  shadow  of  a 
Pariah  overcasts  a  person  of  superior  rank,  he  is  deemed  polluted. 
If  the  article  on  which  the  shadow  of  a  Pariah  fells,  be  food,  it  is 
thrown  away :  if  any  thing  of  a  frangible  nature,  it  is  destroyed ;  and 
if  a  thing  of  value,  it  is  only  to  be  recovered  from  its  contamination 
by  the  most  rigorous  purifications. 

At  length  our  author,  after  passing  through  Rhotas  Gur, ''  one  of 
the  most  romantic  spots  on  the  south  of  the  Himalayan  mountains," 
the  Eckpouah,  Gyah  Patua,  and  Gour,  arrived  at  Calcutta,  called 
the  City  of  Palaces.  The  modem  town  extends  about  six  miles  on 
the  eastern  bank  of  the  Hoogley,  and  abounds  in  handsome  and  ele- 
gant buildings.  Among  the  most  striking  edifices  are  the  Govern- 
ment-house and  the  Custom-house.  At  Cheringhee,  the  fashionable 
part  of  the  town,  there  is  a  line  of  magnificent  houses,  the  residences 
of  Europeans.  The  population  of  Calcutta  amounts  to  about  six 
hundred  thousand  souls. 

liVe  are  unable  to  add  more  about  Mr.  Hobart  Caunter's  valuable 
Oriental  Annual;  but  it  is  one  of  the  most  useful  books  which 
could  be  put  into  the  hands  of  a  person  wishing  to  obtain  acquaint- 
ance with  India.  It  is  really  a  fertile  source,  fiill  of  information 
and  amusement. 


440 


NOTICES. 


Art.  XIL — A  Dissertation  on  the 
Reasonableness  of  Christianiiy, 
.  By  the  Rev.  John  Wilson,  A.M. 
Minister  of  Inrine.  Edinburgh : 
Oliver  &  Bojd.  1834.  pp.  198. 
Mr  Loose,  in  his  Treatise  on  this 
subject,  merely  defended  the  out- 
works of  our  veiigion,  without  a 
•oosideration  of  its  peculiarities, 
wUeh  did  «ot  &dl  within  his  design. 
In  thifl  little  volume,  the  author, 
with  remarkable  simplicity,  clear- 
ness, and  cogency,  supplies  the  de- 
fect, and  unfolos  these  essential 
doctrines,  as  being  in  perfect  con- 
sistence with  the  great  and  funda- 
mental principles  which  every  so- 
ber, thinking  man  recognises  in 
ordinary  life,  and  judging  of  the  or- 
dinary administration  of  the  world. 
His  mode,  indeed,  of  elucidating 
the  salutary  truth,  that  the  moral 
providence  and  spiritual  govern- 
ment of  God  constitute  one  con- 
summate whole,  will  be  highly  con- 
solatory to  every  sincere  believer, 
as  well  as  every  honest  in<|^uirer, 
who  stumbles  at  certain  pomts  of 
the  Christian  faith,  from  not  seeing 
them  in  their  proper  light  and  po- 
sition. 

The  author's  argfument  is  not 
with  the  man  who  denies  the  truth 
of  the  Gospel,  so  much  as  with  him 
who  supposes  diat  notions  are  in- 
termixed with  it  which  are  at  va- 
riance with  the  deductions  of  reason , 
or  above  its  cognizance.  And  after 
R  careful  perusal  of  his  volume,  we 
feel,  that  &ough  no  doubts  troubled 
us  of  late  on  the  point,  yet  a  won- 
derful accession  of  strength  has 
been  given  to  our  persuasion,  by 
the  manner  in  which  it  is  handled 
by  Mr.  Wilson.  We  feel  that  in 
following  out  a  mode  of  reasoning 
adopted  by  Bishop  Butler,  in  his 


admirable  "  Analogy,*'  he  most  for- 
cibly shows,  that  '*the  jMx^viaion 
made  in  Christianiiy  for  the  bene- 
fit of  man  ia,  in  general,  to  be  viewed 
in  the  light  of  an  unique  develpp- 
inent  of  principles  acknowledged 
in  the  ordinary  course  of  the  divine 
adminiatmtion,  and  approved  of  by 
human  beings,  in  consequence  of 
the  moral  constitution  of  their 
nature." 

A  more  useful  and  important  re- 
ligious treatise  than  what  this  little 
volume  presents,  we  could  ne* 
name,  whether  we  r^aid  llie 
young,  the  reasoning,  or  the  con- 
firmed. 


Art.  Xllh— The  Collected  Poems 
of  the  late  N.  7*.  Carrington, 
Edited  by  his  Son,  H.  E.  Ciji- 
RiNOTON.  Two  vols.  Iioudon  : 
Longman  and  Co.     1834. 

The  present  volumes  contain  no 
poems  which  have  not  been  already 
before  the  public  for  ^ears.  The 
chief  feature  in  them  is  that  of  a 
faithful  description  of  natural  sce- 
nery, on  which  the  author  ever  had 
his  eye.  Accordingly,  the  persons 
acquainted  with  the  localities  de- 
scribed, have  generally  entertained 
a  high  opinion  of  these  poetic  pic- 
tures, whilst,  in  the  literary  world, 
they  have  been  considered  to  be 
possessed  of  beauty,  simplicity,  and 
ease.  Dartmoor,  the  largest  of  the 
whole,  was  begun  with  the  view  of 
competing  for  a  premium  ofEered 
about  ten  years  ago  by  xihe  Royal 
Society  of  Literature,  on  that  sub* 
ject,  which  premium  was  awarded 
to  Mn.  Hemans,  and  before  Mr. 
Carrington  had  presented  his  ef» 


NotiM. 


4^1 


fort.  It  was,  nevertheless,  well 
received  by  tfae<  periodical  press, 
and  GreoTge  the  Fourth,  as  we  ere 
told  by  the  editor,  ordered  his  opi- 
nion to  be. transmitted  to  the  author, 
in  the  shape  of  fifty  guineas. 

The  new  matter  which  distin* 
guishes  this  edition,  consists  in  co- 
pious notes  to  Dartmoor  and  some 
of  the  other  pieces,  together  with 
a  sketch  of  the  author's  life.  The 
notes  will  be  found  highly  interest* 
ing  to  those  familiar  with  the  scenes 
referred  to ;  whilst  the  biographical 
preface  is  valuable,  on  account  of 
the  amiable,  unobtrusive,  and  ex* 
emplary  character  of  its  subjects 
He  was  a  public  teacher  of  youth 
for  many  years,  of  considerable  em> 
inence,  Maidstone  and  Plymouth 
being  the  field  of  his-  professional 
labours ;  at  both  of  which  his  me- 
mory is  held  in  high  respect.  His 
is  a  history,  indeed,  worthy  of  great 
honour;  for,  as  .we  are  told,  during 
nearly  thirtyrthree  years,  he  was 
employed  daily,  with  the  exception 
of  not  more  than  two  hours  each 
day  for  meals,  from  an  early  period 
of  the  morning  till  late  in  the  even- 
ing, in  the  duties  of  his  calling, 
without  ever  allowing  his  favourite 
poetical  pursuits  to  interfere.  His 
compositions,  therefore,  were  the 
productions,  only  occasionally,  of  a 
pensive  and  abstracted  hour,  at  the 
close  of  the  long  and  toilsome  day. 

Art.   XIV. — liltuirations  of  the 

Botany  and  other  Branches  of  the 

Natural  History  of  the  Hima- 

layanMouniains^andofthe  Flora 

of  Cashmere.     By  J.   Foebbs 

ROTLB,    Esq.  F.  L.  S.    &c.  &c. 

London :  Parbury.  Allen  8c  Ck>. 

1834. 

This  folio  work  progresses  with 

equal,  if  not  additional,  spirit,  to 

that  which  even  distinguished  its 

previous  parts.    The  plates  in  the 

number  which  is  before  us,  are  all 

botanictfl;  nor  can  their  splendour 

sind  delicacy  be  explained,  but  by 


an  inspeation  of  the  work  itself. 
The  lettar-presB  does  no  less  honour 
to  the  typographical  art.  Qf  the 
scientific  information  herein  con- 
tained,  we  have  also  to  speak  in 
unqualified  terms  of  approbation  { 
and  particularly  as  regards  that 
wiiioh  is  said  of  one  of*  a  family  of 
plants,  which  was  scarcely  known  a 
century  ago,  but  that  since  then 
*'  has  given  rise  to  a  most,  extensdve 
commerce,  and  changed  the  habits 
of  the  most  civilieed  nations,  irho 
hardly,  in  any  otbor  respect,  ag.ree 
with>  the  people  from  whom  they 
receive  and  follow  in  the  use -of  the 
refreshing  beverage"  afforded  by 
it;  we  mean  the  tea  planti  Yet^ 
respecting-  the  varieties  which  af« 
ford  the  different  teas  of  commerce, 
the  extent  of  their  distribution,  the 
climate,  soil,  and  culture  which 
they  prefer,  there  is  mueh  divenity 
of  opiniott  among  botanists.  For 
instance,  ivis  not  yeryi  clearly  ast 
oertained,  whether  the  varieties  of 
tea  known  in  oommeirce  are  due 
to  difference  of  species,  or  onl^  to 
differences  in  soil,  climate,  culture^ 
and  mode  of  preparation.  It  has 
been  >  said  that  bohea'may  be  cured 
as  hyson,  and  hyson  -  as  hobaek  i 
whilst,  on  the  other  hand,  it  has 
been  as  strenuously  maintained, 
that  the  Chineee  manufacturers  do 
not,  and  they  say  they  cannot,  con^ 
vert  black  tea  into  green,  and  vice 
versft.  But  these  are  points  we 
cannot  enterJnto,  and  must  there- 
fore refer  all  who  desire  full  satis4 
faction,  and  scientific  information 
respecting  them,  to  the  work  now 
opea  Uy  us.  We  can,  at  present, 
tberefMre,  only  repeat,  that  tiiese 
illustrations  of  the  botany  and  n^ 
tural  history  of  the  Himi^yan 
Mountains,  and  of  Cashmere,  do* 
serve  the  edmiration  and  favour  of 
all  who  have  a  taste  or  knowledge 
of  natural  science ;  but  especially 
of  those  who  are  desirous  to  form 
a  splendid. coUecticm  of  botanical 
works,  or  a  noble,  likrary. 


442 


Notices, 


Art.  XV — MetricalExereisesupon 
Scripture  Texts  and  Miscellane- 
ous Poems,  By  Harriet  R. 
Kino.  London:  Smith,  Eider 
&  Co.  Cornhill.  1834.  pp.  168. 
Of  the  poetic  powers  of  the  au- 
thoress we  cannot  say  more,  than 
that  they  are  fully  equal  to  those  of 
many  writers  of  religious  and  de- 
votional pieces,  to  be  met  with; 
but  that  we  have  seen  nothing  in 
the  volume  which  is  likely  to  be 
much  read,  or  long  remembered. 
She  evidently  writes  under  warm 
and  pure  emotions,  a  favourable  ex- 
ample of  which  is  to  be  found  in 
the  poem,  called  "My  Mother;" 
although  the  title  is  apt  to  suggest 
a  disparaging  comparison,  in  Cow- 
per's  Address  to  his  Mother's  Pic- 
ture. We  do  not,  however,  alto- 
gether approve  of  the  practice,  said 
by  the  authoress  to  have  been  usual 
on  her  pait,  with  a  view  to  curb 
the  wandering  of  her  attention  in 
the  public  service  of  the  Church, 
*'  of  meditating  in  metre  upon  some 
selected  text,  (generally  upon  that 
given  out  from  the  pulpit)  during 
the  delivery  of  the  sermon,"  as 
being  either  conducive  to  spiritual 
improvement  or  poetic  eminence. 
The  majority  of  the  pieces  before 
us  are  declared  to  have  been  so 
composed,  and  we  therefore  the  less 
wonder  at  the  feebleness  and  com- 
mon-place character  of  most  of 
them. 

At  the  same  time,  we  doubt  not 
that  the  authoress  is  a  person  of 
exemplary  piety.  Every  one  of 
the  pieces  breathes  a  spirit  that  re- 
lies on  religious  consolation,  amid 
the  trials  of  life;  nor,  since  such 
versified  meditations  afforded  her 
peace  of  mind  and  support,  during 
their  composition,  can  we  wish  her 
hereafter,  in  recurring  to  them,  to 
be  less  satisfied  and  comforted: 
whilst  to  many  of  a  kindred  devo- 
tional character,  they  will  be  found 
fiill  of  simple,  affecting,  and  scrip- 
tural sentiments. 


Art.  XVI. — Memoir$  of  the  lUv 
fFiiliam  Henry  Angus ^  ordained 
a  "  Missionary  to  Seafaring 
Men:'  May  Wth,  1822.  By 
the  ^v.  F.  A.  Cox,  LL.D.  Lon- 
don :  Thos.  Heard  &  Co.    1834. 

The  subject  of  this  work,  it  would 
appear,  was  a  descendant  of  the 
Scottish  house  of  Angus,  though  the 
two  names  are  slightly  different, 
He  was  bom  at  Newcastle-upon- 
Tyne,  in  1781 :  centuries  ago  some 
of  the  descendants  of  the  clan  of 
Angus  having  settled  in  the  north 
of  England.  At  an  early  age  he 
had  serious  impressions;  but  though 
intended  for  the  legal  profession,  he 
chose  a  seafaring  life,  where  for  a 
time  those  impressions  were  smo- 
thered. After  many  vicissitudes, 
he  succeeded,  at  the  age  of  nineteen, 
to  the  command  of  a  ship  belonging 
to  his  father.  In  this  respectable 
situation  he  continued  tiU  his  reso- 
lution was  carried  into  effect  of 
devoting  himself  to  the  ministry  of 
religion.  His  earnest  desire  was 
to  be  a  missionary  to  seamen,  whose 
habits  he  so  well  knew,  and  whose 
welfare  was  particulariy  dear  to 
him  :  circumstances  which  recom- 
mend him  to  us  as  a  warm-hearted 
and  energetic  man.  He  attached 
himself  to  the  Baptist  communion, 
but  was  a  brother  td  all  sects 
whose  principles  and  conduct  coin- 
cided with  the  great  doctrines  of 
the  Christian  faith.  The  sea-ports 
of  the  continent  of  Europe,  especi- 
ally in  Holland,  and  those  of  his 
native  land,  together  with  excur- 
sions into  Switzerland,  and  a  voy^e 
to  Jamaica,  afforded  him  ample 
scope  for  unremitting  exertions, 
which  characterised  his  missionary 
enterprise.  He  died  of  cholera  in 
1832,  at  South  Shields.  We  shall 
only  say  of  this  little  volume,  that 
to  all  who  take  an  interest  in  evan- 
gelical religion,  it  will  be  most  ac- 
ceptable; for,  besides  the  serious 
characterand  arduous  labours  which 


1 


Notic€$. 


443 


distingni^hed,  the  life  of  its  subject, 
there  was  the  straightforward  mind 
of  the  sailor  ever  eyinced.  In  an 
appendix  a  number  of  his  nautical 
aphorisms  are  given;  the  following 
is  one  of  the  shortest  :•— ''  A  Chris- 
tian with  the  Gospel  is  like  a  sailor 
with  his  money— he  deals  it  out 
freely." 


Akt.  XVII.— rAe  Exiles  of  Cha- 
mcnini;  a  Drama;  and  the  Rose 
of  Cashmere;  an  Oriental  Ope- 
ra. By  Charles  Doyne  Sillert, 
Esq.  London :  Smith,  Elder,  and 
Co.,  Comhill.     1834. 

The  first  of  these  pieces  has  fright- 
ened ua  not  a  little ;  the  very  ad- 
Tertisement  prefixed  to  it,  is  terri- 
fic; for  there  the  author  declares, 
that  **  whenever  man  is  led  to  com- 
mit iniquity,  he  is  under  the  domi- 
nion of  an  evil  spirit.  On  earth  we 
have  not  only  to  wrestle  with  our 
own  carnal  passions,  but  daily  to 
contend  with  the  unseen  powers  of 
darkness/'  Again,  ''  The  following 
drama  was  written  for  the  purpose 
of  exhibiting  the  dreadful  nature  of 
sin — ^the  despairing  wretchedness  of 
an  unnatural  soul  under  the  imme- 
diate agency  of  the  devil.  The 
})eart  of  man  is  but  the  engine  with 
which  Satan  works."  Again,  ''  I 
liave  but  withdrawn  the  veil  which 
renders  the  region  of  evil  spirits 
invisible."  Accordingly,  of  the 
thirty  characters  introducisd,  more 
tKkn  a  third  are  demons,  amongst 
whon^  SaUtn,  Diabolos,  and  Death, 
figure. 

In  perfect  keeping  with  these 
oul^posts,  we  have  the  words  storms, 
darkness,  desolation,  despair,  chaos, 
thunder,  fire,  lightning,  fiends,  de- 
mons;, death,  and  devils,  with  other 
alarming  terms  and  names,  strung 
together  according  to  every  possi- 
ble oombinaftion.  Blood,  thunder, 
and  the  four  letters  that  rhyme  with 
fell,  tell,  well,  are  the  author's  hobby. 

VOL.  lu.  (1834.)  NO.  III. 


This  last  and  by  us  unwritten  mo  • 
nosyllable  occurs,  we  may  safely  af- 
firm, some  hundreds  of  times  in  the 
course  of  the  piece.  Very  frequent- 
ly it  is  to  be  met  with  twice  in  two 
adjoining  lines ;  and  as  parts  of  the 
drama  are  rhythmical,  h  is  sure  to 
catch  the  eye  wedded  to  some  one 
of  these  fells  or  tells  in  almost  every 
page.  Not  to  speak  of  the  dread- 
ful hardihood  of  the  author's  dra- 
matic spirit,  we  must  say,  that  for 
weeks  to  come,  we  will  start,  with 
loathing  and  turn  away  from  every 
sound  corresponding  with  that  al- 
luded to.  Indeed  Mr.  .  Charles 
Doyne  Sillery  is  a  very  profane 
man.  Just  listen  gentle  reader  to 
the  first  line  of  the  exiles  of  Cha- 
mouni : — 

*'  Gods,  how  it  thunders  1 — ^thmdera  as 
the  crags,  &c." 

A  little  farther  on  we  are  told  that— 

**  It  seems  as  all  the  gloom  within  men*s 
souls 
Were  blended  with  the  atmosphere — 

as  hell 
Of  fiends  were  emptied,  or^the  world 
in  hell." 


Again,  six  lines  beyond  thes< 

*'  In  the  ever-working,  fretting,  foaming 
heU." 

On  the  heels  of  this  it  is  thus : — 

"  Hell  hoots  thee  from  her  caves  of  blood 
and  fire.*' 

Then  in  the  very  next  sentence. — 

*'  In  thy  brain 
And  bosom  burns  a  hell." 

Now,  really  this  is  far  worse  than 
bad  writing  :  and  yet  these  are  but 
a  few  of  the  horrid  phrases  that 
stare  the  reader  in  the  three  first 
pages  of  the  Exiles  of  Chamouni, 
whilst  we  find  that  neither  the 
s^ise,  poetry,  nor  language  mends 
throughout  the  piece. 

The  very  taking  title, "  The  Rose 
of  Cashmere,''  is  of  course  not  bound, 
to  such  tremendous  themes  and 
phrases,  but  on  th  econtrary  the  au- 
thor here  ransacks  more  languages 

I  I 


444 


Noticed. 


than  one  for  every  sweet  idea  that 
a  lisping  or  flowing  epithet  can 
clothe:  drawing  largely  on  flow- 
ers,  love,  and  heaven.  There  is, 
however,  no  lack  of  irreverent  ex- 
clamations, and  a  pretty  handsome 
amount  of  swearing  hy  skies,  lilies, 
&c.,  at  the  same  time  that  his  muse 
is  as  poor  as  before,  when  he  abused 
the  fiends. 

Art.  XVIII. — Statement  of  some 
new  principles  on  the  subject  of 
Political  Economy,  exposing  the 
fallacies  of  Free  Trade,  and  of 
some  doctrines  maintained  in  the 
*•  Wealth  of  Nations."  By  John 
Rab.     Boston,  1834. 

The  above  title  asserts  a  claim  to 
distinction  on  two  distinct  grounds 
and  in  terms  not  remarkable  for 
their  diffidence.  Originality  is  the 
proof  of  genius,  which  belongs  to 
very  few  of  our  species  ;  whilst  to 
meet  with  a  man  who  can  floor 
Adam  Smith  and  all  his  disciples  at 
one  swoop,  is  a  still  more  rare  oc- 
curranc^  Not  that  now-a-days  we 
are  to  fear,  or  distrust  without  pre- 
vious inquiry,  any  one,  merely  be- 
cause he  sets  at  nought  precon- 
ceived or  favoured  theories ;  on  the 
contrary,  bold,  if  prudent  enterprize 
if  descriptive  of  the  first-rate  talent. 
Does  Mr.  Rae  possess  both  of  these 
qualifications  ?  We  think  not.  The 
great  fault  we  find  with  his  book, 
is  that  he  splits  ideas  so  finely,  and 
takes  up  broad  and  leading  princi- 
ples so  partially,  as  to  exhibit  the 
doctrines  discussed  in  an  inadequate 
and  mutilated  form,  at  the  same 
time  that  he  proves  himself  unequal 
to  the  grasp  of  such  a  science  as  that 
of  Political  Economy,  which  re- 
spects all  the  divergences  and  capa- 
bilities of  human  nature,  even  in 
its  most  mixed  and  erratic  condi- 
tions. 

It  is,  however,  not  to  be  supposed 
that  we  can  here  attempt  to  give 
even  the  m68t  general  analysis  of 


the  publication,  especially  as  it  ii 
devoted  to  a  sort  of  controversy  with 
what  have  hitherto  been  esteemed 
text  and  standard  worica  on  the 
science  of  which  it  treats,  flndeed, 
the  announcement  in  the  title  givei 
a  good  general  index  to  its  preten- 
sions. We  may  mention,  that  al- 
though published  in  America,  the 
work  was  written  and  at  first  in- 
tended for  the  English  reader.  We 
also  add  that  it  evinces  considerable 
ingenuity,  study,  and  research,  and 
that  it  is  worthy  of  the  perusal  of 
those  who  take  an  interest  in  the 
(most  unsatis£Eu;tory)  schemes  of 
these  theorists. 

Art.  XIX. — The  present  State  of 
Aural  Surgery^  or  Methods  if 
Treating  Deafness,  8^c.    By  w. 
-   Wright,  Esq.     London:  Thos. 
Hurst,   St  Paul's  Church-yari 
1834, 
Is  it  not  lamentable   that  a  man 
so  skilled  in  any  one  branch  of  the 
healing  art  as  Mr.  Wright  repre- 
sents himself  to  be,  should  not  be 
adequately  encouraged  ?     Beaidefl, 
he  styles  himself  as  having  been 
surgeon  aurist  to  her  late  Majesty 
Queen  Charlotte,  &c. ;  and  he  has 
written  books,  and  dedicated  one 
of  them  to  the  Duke  of  Wellington. 
Nay,  we  are  of  opinion,  from  the 
contents  of  this  little  volame,  that 
he  knows  a  great  deal  of  the  sub- 
ject it  treats  of.    Yet  still  the  world 
IS  partiali   prejudiced,  and  blind; 
and  Mr.  Wright,  we  fear,  fees 
himself  neglected. 

Now  the  author  must  not  think 
we  mean  »Qy  thing  but  his  own 
good,  when  we  proffer  this  adrice 
to  him — hereafter  to  say  less  about 
himself  and  his  doings,  less  in  diA- 
paragement  of  his  brethren,  and 
much  more  on  the  merits  of  the 
subject  he  disciiisses  than  is  here 
found.  Then,  and  not  till  then, 
can  he  expect,  in  these  dull  days, 
to  be  duly  noticed. 


THE 


MONTHLY    KEVIEW< 


DECEMBER. 


Art.  I. — Lardner*8  Cabinet  Cychpadia-^^Histafy  of  the  Germanic  Empire* 
By  S.  A.  Dunham,  Esq.,  LL.  D.,  &c.  Longman,  Rees,  Orme,  Brown, 
Green,  and  Longman.     1834. 

The  last  time  we  noticed  Dr.  Lardner^s  Cyclopaedia,  was  in  refer- 
euce  to  to  that  portion  of  it  which  has  been  devoted  to  England, 
during  the  middle  ages ;  and  of  that  performance  we  felt  ourselves 
bound  to  speak  in  terms  of  unqualified  censure.  The  present  vo* 
lume,  however,  is  of  a  very  difierent  order  and  character.  A  sum- 
mary glance  satisfied  us,  that  the  author  was  not  merely  master  of 
his  subject,  but  capable  of  placing  his  knowledge  before  the  reader 
in  a  lucid  and  correct  style.  Nor  do  we  look  upon  the  task  as  an 
easy  one,  which  he  was  called  upon  to  execute,  within  the  compass 
of  one  of  these  volumes.  For  he  here  presents  us  with  the  His- 
tory of  the  Germanic  Empire^  during  the  whole  course  of  the 
middle  ages;  giving  us  even  a  sketch  of  Germany  many  vears 
prior  to  800,  when  Charlemagne  was  crowned  Emperor  by  !Pope 
Leo  IIL,  there  bringing  it  down  to  1437.  He  embraces  the  poli- 
tical and  civil  history  of  the  empire^  during  the  above-mentioned 
period.  No  doubt  it  is  but  a  compendium  that  any  one  possibly 
could  present,  of  the  immense  amount  of  materials  he  had  to 
handle;  but  then  we  say,  that  this  compendium^  is  masterly,  being 
clear,  rich,  and  extensive. 

One  truth  is  forcibly  impressed  by  a  perusal  of  this  comprehen- 
sive and  small  volume;  and  it  is  a  melancholv  truth.  It  exhibits 
strikingly  the  fact,  that  the  history  of  mankind  and  of  nations  has, 
throughout  at  least  many  centuries,  been  but  a  series  of  deeds  of 
bloodshed  and  oppression.  But  there  is  another  prominent  lesson 
taught  by  such  a  history  as  that  now  before  us,  that  affords  room 
for  earnest  and  not  unpleasurable  study :  this  is,  how  and  when 
our  civil  institutions  had  their  rise,  and  what  are  the  marvellous 
changes  to  which  they  have  been  subject  in  their  progress.  We 
wish  that  this  volume,  and  others  in  the  same  popular  and  acces-* 
sible  shape,  devoted  to  the  publication  of  such  historical  lessons, 
were  in  the  hands  of  every  man.  For  we  are  sure,  though  the 
knowledge  they  contain  would  not  make  him  careless  in  watching 
tiie  state  of  his  dvil  rights,  it  would  impress  him  with  deep  grati- 

VOL.  IV.    (1834.)    NO.  IV.  K  K 


446  History  of  the  Germanic  Empire. 

tude,  if  an  Englishman,  for  the  blessings  he  has  been  bom  to  in- 
herit as  a  citizen  of  the  world,  compared  with  the  condition  of 
countless  numbers  who  have  lived  before  him.  The  information  here 
found,  or  the  lights  to  be  gathered  from  it,  would  also  teach  him 
to  be  a  cautious  and  at  the  same -time  ft  skiKil-reformeis  «o  that, 
between  that  conservative  absurdity,  that  abased  are  not 'to  be  re- 
medied because  they  are  alitiquated,  and  that  dangeioiis  dogma, 
that  every  sore  is  at  once  to  be  cut  out,  without  regard  to  the 
adjoining  healthy  parts,  he  would  act  judiciously  and  firmly. 

The  principal  purpose  we  contemplate  in  presenting  our  readers 
with  a  few  striking  portions  of  this  volume  is,  that  they  may  have 
their  eyes  directed  to  some  of  the  general  points  now  hinted  at. 
There  docs  not  appear  to  be  much  of  a  field  for  criticisni  respect- 
ing it,  of  a  more  minute  description  than  that  general  opinion 
with  which  we  set  out;  nor  can  it  be  necessary  or  indeed  possible, 
within  our  Umits,  to  attempt  a  continuous  sketch  of  the  avnasties 
that  came  in  succession  throughout  the  dark  ages,  to  rule  the  Ger- 
man empire.  We  therefore  only  now  proceed  to  point  out  some  of 
the  landmarks  in  the  history  of  civil  government  and  of  society 
during  the  early  ages  of  the  empire,  which  tlien  and  since  has  been 
the  bulwark  of  European  knowledge,  morals,  and  freedom 

Our  author  states,  that  during  the  reign  of  Charlemagne,  the 
power  of  the  crown  was  most  remarkable.  The  princes  of  the  em- 
pire, for  instance,  were  constrained  to  kiss  his  feet  when  admitted 
to  his  presence.  A  few,  indeed,  had  the  privilege  of  kissing  the 
knee  only — a  favour  shared  with  the  empress  herself.  Yet  the 
dukes  and  counts  who  acted  thus,  were  adorned  with  rich  crowns. 
At  this  period,  German  society  consisted  of  four  great  classes— the 
slaves — the  freedmen — the  freemen — and  the  nobles: — 

"  Slaves  were  either  bom  so,  or  they  became  so  by  various  aocideflti. 
For  mftDy  ages  even  German  captives  in  war  were  reduced  to  thatoon« 
ditioii»  d  fortiori,  llomans,  Gauls,  and  Slavi.  And  these  who  veie  io 
danger  of  famishing  through  want,  often  voluntarily  embraced  that  de- 
plorable state.  Towards  the  church,  a  mistaken  piety  often  prompted  even 
the  rich,  with  their  whole  families,  to  embrace  that  condition.  Love  some- 
times produced  the  same  result ;  for,  in  many  of  the  Germanic  codes,  if  a 
freeman  married  a  female  slave  (ancilld),  or  vice  versd,  the  one  was  oom- 
.pelled  to  take  the  lot  of  the  other.  In  general,  however,  neither  Want,  nor 
piety,  nor  love,  had  much  effect  in  this  soc  al  degradation  DehUm  who 
were  unable  to  meet  their  engagements,  and  convicted  Griuinals,  wlw 
were  equally  unable  to  raise  the  pecuniary  mulct,  infallibly  incurred  k.  On- 
ginally,  and  for  a  long  period,  the  slaves  were  adscriptitise  ccmdttknus: 
terms  sufficiently  significant  of  their  wretched  state.  Hence,  if  they  M, 
they  could  be  reclaimed ;  they  could  be  alienated  with  the  land  which  they 
cultivated ;  their  masters  had  power  to  chastise,  even  to  kill  them ;  until 
the  laws  of  the  empire  interfered,  to  prevent  either  death  or  rautilatioa. 
They  were  subject  to  various  duties,  according  to  their  master's  pleasure : 
sometimes  they  attended  his  person,  or  lived  in  his  household ;  and  theM 
were  more  honourable  than  the  rest.  '  if  located  on  the  soil,  ^eir  con- 


History  of  the  Germanic  Empire.  447 

<£tioti  admitted  of  some  amelioration.  If  they  were  the  lowest  of  their 
kind,  all  their  labour,  all  the  produce  which  they  raided,  that  moderate 
portion  excepted  which  was  necessary  for  the  support  of  nature,  went  to 
their  lords." — ^pp.  52,  53. 

The  fireedmen  obtained  their  liberty  in.  various  ways: — 

"  Sometimes  it  was  efieded  by  opening  the  door,  to  indicate  that  he 
was  at  liberty  to  leave  the  house  ;  sometimes  by  placing  him  where  four 
roads  met,  to  show  that  he  might  take  whicli  he  pleased.  Again,  it  was 
sometimes  effected  by  the  hand  of  the  kin^  or  priest,  and  by  the  arrow, 
which  appears  to  have  been  a  favourite  with  the  Lombards,  and  what  be- 
tokened the  right  of  the  man  henceforth  to  assume  arm? — ^the  sign  of 
freedom.  The  most  usual  mode,  however,  seems  to  have  given  rise  to  the 
word  itself — manumissione,  to  send  from  the  hand^  to  push  away.  The 
effect  resulting  from  these  various  forms  was  very  different,  the  emanci- 
pation being  sometimes  entire,  generally  partial.  Thus,  the  enfranchise- 
ment at  the  niter  was  as  complete  as  if  the  slave  were  bom  from  free 
parents :  he  did  not  becoine  a  liber tus,  but  an  ingenuus.  The  same  effect 
was  produced  by  the  excussio  denarii,  by  the  portae  patentes,  by  the  qua- 
tuor  vise,  and  by  the  imposition  of  the  royal  or  princely  hand.  Bat  in  a 
vast  minority  of  cases  some  service,  or  right,  or  tribute,  w  as  retained.  The 
condition  of  the  libertus  varied  according  to  the  obligations  imposed  on 
him  on  his  elevation  from  the  inferior  state  of  servus  :  sometimes  they  were 
very  light,  consisting  of  a  small  census,  or  personal  homage.  In  general 
he  was  subject  to  the  immediate  control  of  his  patron  :  he  was  to  work 
certain  days  every  week,  or  bring  a  portion  of  produce,  or  a  certain  sum  to 
his  master.  And  he  wns  liable  to  some  other  prestations ;  all  which, 
though  they  involved  civil  rights,  and  enabled  him  to  acquire  wealth,  did 
not  much  raise  him  in  the  scale  of  dignity.  The  most  galling  of'the  obli- 
gations generally  left  to  the  freed  man  was  his  dependence  on  the  juris- 
diction of  his  patron ;  but  let  us  cemember  that  all  good  is  comparative, 
and  that  even  a  great  evil,  if  it  remove  a  greater,  is  a  good."*-'pp.  54,  55. 

Freemen  had  only  one  profession^  that  of  the  military  art,  the 
Imowledge  and  practice  of  which,  together  with  the  chace,  occupied 
the  whole  of  their  lives.    The  nobles  were  distinguished  from  these 
^c^^n  in  various  ways,  necessarily  accompanied  with  many  griev- 
ances to  inferiors:  and  the  author  declares,  that  from  the  scattered 
information  which  has  been  handed  down  to  us  regarding  the  reigns 
of  those  of  Charlemagne's  line,  the- heart  of  the  nation  was  turned 
to  bunting,  hawking,  to  war  and  drunkenness,  to  mirth  and  frolic. 
From  the  termination  cf  that  dynasty  in  911  to  1024,  which  waa 
what  was  occnpied  by  the  house  of  Saxony,  the  progress  of  the 
empire  towards  improvement  was  on  the  whole  conspicuous.    From 
the  last  mentioned  date  to  1138,  the  condition  of  the  (jrermanic 
.society  has  little  to  excite  admiration.     The  castles,  which  were 
boilt  on  almost  every  eminence,  were  garrisoned  with  men  who 
were  obliged  to  procure  subsistence  from  the  surrounding  country; 
and  it  is  easy  to  conceive  what  must  have  been  the  sort  of  security 
for  rights  and  property,  in  such  a  state  of  things.     Robbers,  under 
the  name  of  name  of  knights,  laid  waste  country  and  towns :  and, 

X  K  2 


448  History  of  the  Germanic  Empire. 

perhaps^  the  foct  that  churchmen  were  warriors  in  those  days^  may 
intimate  a  no  less  frightful  condition. 

In  the  course  of  the  next  hundred  and  thirty  years,  important 
changes  and  ameliorations  occurred  in  all  the  conditions  of  life. 
We  have  only  room  to  quote  what  the  author  tdls  us  of  the  state 
to  which  the  lower  orders  had  now  arrived — at  all  times  the  most 
worthy  of  notice  of  the  grades  of  society,  whether  we  refer  to  thrir 
numbers,  or  to  their  value.  The  reader  will  begin  to  breathe  freely, 
and  with  some  degree  of  joyful  hope,  after  perusing  this  quotatioD, 
which,  as  far  as  the  writer  is  concerned,  deserves  every  commen- 
dation. 

"  Descending  ia  the  social  chain  we  come  to  the  cultivatora  of  the 
ground,  the  serfs  or  peasantry,  whose  condition,  though  sufficiently  onfTOos, 
was  yet  considerably  ameliorated.     At  the  close  of  the  last  period  ve  had 
occasion  to  remark,  that  servitude,  in  its  more  odious  acceptation,  wai 
beginning  to  disappear;  that  there  was  a  progressive  elevation  of  the  class, 
however  split  into  distinctions ;  that  the  frcedmen  were  rising  into  inge- 
nui,  the  less  degraded  into  freedmen,  and  the  lowest  into  a  political  exist- 
ence.    Now,  we  perceive  that  corporeal  servitude  had  ceased  throughout  a 
great  part  of  the  empire.  This  was,  doubtless,  owing  to  a  variety  of  causes, 
of  which  many  are  apt  to  elude  our  observation.     Assuredly  one  of  these 
was  not  the  increased  humanity  of  the  lords  :  the  German  mind  has  not 
been  favouiable  to   abstract  notions  of  right,  whenever  that  right  has 
opposed  aristocratic  preponderancy.  In  the  view  of  a  German  noble,  liberty 
means  no  more  than  an  emancipation  from  the  despotism  of  the  territorial 
princes ;  in  that  of  citizen,  exemption  from  the  jurisdiction  of  emperor  or 
prince  ;  in  that  of  a  prince,  perfect  independence  of  the  emperor.    The 
grades  of  society  below  the  rank  of  freemen  were  not  thought  worth  the 
trouble  of  legislation ;  or  if  their  condition  was  noticed,  it  was  only  to 
secure  their  continued  dependence  on  their  superiors.    But  liuman  circum- 
stances are  more  powerful  than  conventional  forms    or  the  pride  of  mas. 
From  causes  which  we  before  enumerated,  policy  and  interest  demanded 
that  the  relation  of  the  serfs  should  undergo  considerable  modification; 
that  they  should  be  placed  in  situations  where  their  industry  should  be 
roost  productive  to  their  masters.     But  the  same  industry  benefited  them- 
selves :  it  could  not  be  provoked  without  some  allurement ;  for  the  galley- 
slave  will  drop  the  oar  when  his  taskmaster  is  not  present    The  eucon- 
ragement  thus  afforded  completely  answered  its  purpose ;  and  as  the  seHi 
gained  property  of  their  own,  they  became  half  enfranchised,  not  by  con- 
ventional formalities,  but  by  tacit  consent,  and  by  the  influence  of  custom. 
The  inevitable  effect  of  this  system  was  the  rapid  increase  of  the  popu- 
lation ;  and  this  increase,  in  its  turn,  tended  to  the  su])port  and  prosperity 
of  the  whole  order.     To  such  consideration,  indeed,  did  they  arrive,  thai 
they  were  sometimes  furnished  with  arms  to  defend  the  cause  of  their 
master.     This  innovation  tended  more  than  all  other  causes  to  the  en- 
franchisement of  the  rural  population ;  for  whoever  is  taught  to  use,  vd 
allowed  to  possess  weapons,  will  soon  make  himself  respected.    Hie  datf 
thus  favoured  vias  certainly  not  that  of  the  mere  cultivators  of  thegrooad; 
but  of  the  mechanics,  the  tradesmen,  the  manufacturers,  and  the  chief- 
villeins,  who,  holding  land  on  the  condition  of  a  certain  return  in  produce 
•asf  rental,  were  little  below  free  tenants.     The  agricultural  districts  hid 


Hi$iory  of  the  Gertnanic  Smpire,  <49 

ttiany  gradations  of  society;  and  in  respdct  to   those  over  whom  the 
generic  appellation  was  the  same,  much  would  depend  on  the  disposition 
of  the  proprietor — on  the  nature  of  the  ohligations  which  be  introduced 
into  the  verbal  contract  between  him  and  his  vassal.     Nor  must  it  be  for- 
gotten, that,  though  the  great  aristocratic  body,  whether  ecclesiastic  or  se- 
cular, were,  as  a  body,  indifiPerent  to  the  welfare  of  their  dependants, 
though  they  preferred  slaves  to  tenants  half  free,  or  peasants,  or  liberti, 
the  benign  influence  of  Christianity  on  individuals  was  not  wholly  without 
effect.     The  doctrine,  that  by  nature  all  men  are  equal,  and  equally  en- 
titled to  the  expectations  of  another  world ;  that  the  only  distinction  in  a 
future  state  will  be  between  those  who  have  exercised,  and  those  who 
have  neglected,  works  of  mercy  and  other  social  duties,  could  not  fail  to 
influence  the  hearts  of  some,  and  dispose  them  to  ameliorate  the  evils  of 
their  dependants.     Of  this  feeling  the  clergy  would  be  the  most  sus- 
ceptible ;  and  we  accordingly  find  that  their  vassals  were,  generally,  in 
a  superior  state.     Nor  was  the  sentiment  confined  to  the  clergy  alone ;  if 
it  was  not  uttered,  it  was  sanctioned  by  some  temporal  princes.     Thus, 
the  Jus  Provinciale  Suevicum,  in  a  spirit  which  would  do  honour  to  the 
most  enlightened  times,  asserts  that  there  is   nothing  in  Scripture  to 
sanction  slavery ;  and  ))rays  God  to  pardon  the  man  who  first  imposed  it 
on  his  fellows.     But  with  all  willingness  to  allow  its  due  weight  to  this 
circumstance,  we  cannot  shut  our  eyes  to  the  fact,  that  enfranchisement, 
which,  after  all,  was  but  partial,  since  even  at  the  present  day  it  is  not 
complete,  was  the  result  rather  of  policy  than  of  liberality — rather  of 
interest  than  of  an  abstract  sense  of  justice.     It  was,  indeed,  so  obviously 
the  interest  of  the  domanial  proprietor  to  make  his  dependants  industrious, 
and  to  stimulate  their  exertions  by  a  participation  in  the  profits,  that  we 
may  feel  surprised  only  that  the  system  was  no  sooner  adopted.     In  this, 
as  in  all  other  cases,  the  philosopher  can  easily  discover  that  there  is  a  reci- 
procal re-action  between  services  and  beneiits ;  that  philanthrophy  is  true* 
policy;  that  humanity  is  true  wisdom  :  nor  can  the  Christian  observer  fail 
to  admire  the  eternal  and  indissoluble  connection  which  God's  providence 
has  established  between  the  duties  and  the  enjoyments,  the  obligations 
and  the  interests  of  man.    That  some  of  the  German  princes  were  alive  to 
the  means  by  which  agriculture  may  be  best  improved,  is  evident  from 
many  instances.     Thus,  Albert  the  Boar  brought  a  considerable  number 
of  serfs  from  Holland  to  colonise  and  drain  the  marshes  of  Brandenburg :  a 
service  in  which  the  Dutch  were  always  more  experienced  than  any  other 
people ;  and  the  church  always  showed  considerable  indulgence  to  the 
men  on  whom  it  depended  for  its*  tithes.     We  must  not,  however,  omit  to 
state,  that  in  certain  provinces  there  was  no  amelioration  whatever  in  the 
condition  of  the  serfs.     Thus,  in  Mecklenburg,  Pomerania,  and  Lusatia, 
that  condition  was  one  of  exceeding  rigour.     This  was  owing  to  the  pre- 
valence of  Slavonic  habits  in  those  provinces — a  race  which  has  always 
been  distinguished  for  its  oppression  of  dependants." — ^pp.  228 — 931. 

The  condition  of  the  Germans  was,  however,  still  deplorable ;  the 
times  were  still  barbarous.  Even  although  the  reigning  prince 
were  disposed  to  enforce  wise  and  just  laws,  where  was  the 
power  by  which  he  was  to  aflfect  the  territorial  nobles  ?  Violence 
took  the  place  of  order.  One  crime  produced  retaliation,  and  reta- 
liation gave  birth  to  new  aggressions,  until  the  original  subject  of 


4lf0  Hutory  of  the  Germanic  Emfire. 

ofience  was  lost  under  a  mass  of  injuries.  But  we  haiVe  ndw  armed 
at  the  last  section  of  the  volume,  mduding  the  years  between  1273 
and  1437  ;  and  we  shall  there  see  what  the  author  advances  respect- 
ing the  various  orders  of  the  state,  as  to  their  powers,  rights,  ancf 
condition,  at  this  later  period  of  social  history.  With  reference  to 
the  crown,  he  thinks  it  cannot  be  maintained  that  its  prerogative 
was  much  curtailed.  For  we  are  not  to  estimate  the  royal  power 
by  taking  it  during  any  one  reign,  since,  in  Germany,  the  personal 
character  of  the  sovereign,  even  to  a  greater  extent  than  in  other 
countries,  influence  the  real  amount  of  his  authority,  where  the 
acknowledged  prerogatives  of  predecessors  had  only  to  be  invoked. 
For  if  he  had  learned  to  make  himself  respected,  the  claim  was 
reluctantly  allowed  ;  if  he  was  weak  or  inooni^tant,  he  was  sure  to 
be  resisted  with  success.  The  next  dignity,  that  of  the  electoral, 
had  been  declared  inherent  in  seven  different  princes  during  the 
period  we  are  referring  to,  and  like  what  has  been  the  case  with 
other  hereditary  constituencies,  their  venality  was  shameless.  The 
branch  ranking  immediately  below  the  electors  was  termed  the 
territorial  princes.  By  the  first  of  their  privileges  they  could  sit 
in  judgment  on  their  equals  ;  by  the  second  they  exercised  territo- 
rial jurisdiction  and  judicial  authority  over  the  knights,  squires, 
burgesses,  and  peasantry.  But,  without  following  the  author  in  his 
account  of  the  various  orders  of  the  aristocracy,  we  shall  present 
part  of  what  he  says  on  the  diminution  of  authority  that  came  to 
be  sustained  by  the  princes,  owing  to  partition. 

**  From  the  beginning  of  the  thirteenth  century^  at  least,  we  find  that 
equal  division  among  fiie  8ons,  with  the  reserve  of  certain  honourB  to  the 
eldest,  distinguished  all  the  first  families :  but  in  two  centuries  several 
began  to  feel  that  they  were  sadly  declining  from  tHeir  ancient  splendour  -, 
that  if,  through  the  increase  of  the  collateral  branches,  there  was  less  fear 
of  extinction,  the  influence  of  the  family  was  feeble ;  that  branch  was 
often  at  war  with  branch ;  and  that  some  of  the  younger  members 
simple  knights,  obliged,  for  support,  to  lend  their  swoid  to  any  ei 
To  remedy  this  evil,  some  of  the  more  ambitious  fatlien  datined 
younger  sons  to  the  ecclesiastical  state ;  and  the  dignity  of  bishop,  or 
abbot,  amply  compensated  for  the  loss  of  their  patrimonial  inheritaxMe. 
But  this  policy  had  its  evil  also,  since  it  eridently  tended  to  the  extinction 
of  a  fiamily.  As,  in  failure  of  is^ue,  the  fief  reverted  to  the  empire,  some 
houses  entered  into  a  compact  of  reciprocal  succession ;  viz.  that,  if  one  i»» 
came  extinct,  the  other  should  succeed  to  the  titles  and  estates.  And 
what  is  still  more  curious,  it  often  happened  that,  when  a  fief  was  con- 
ferred, three  or  four  houses  were  co-invested  at  the  same  time ;  the  second 
to  succeed  on  the  extinction  of  the  first;  the  third  on  that  of  the  second. 
Hence  the  conflicting  interests  of  the  great  families.  The  head — he  who 
held  the  titles  and  estates — could  do  nothing  affecting  either  without  tlie 
written  consent  of  all  the  agnates,  and  of  all  the  branches  of  the  families 
which  had  received  the  investiture  at  the  same  time  with  his  own.  Nay, 
marriages  could  not  be  contracted,  nor  alliances  made,  without  the  same 
sanction,     lliis,  too,  was  felt  to  be  an  evil;  and,  fiotai  the  nxid(tte  of  the 


HUUfry  ofth§  Germanic  Empire,  451 

feurteendi  century  down'wards,  we  find  that  not  only  was  prhnogenitnre 
resumi&g  the  empire  which  it  anciently  held,  and  that  co-investiture  was 
less  common,  but  that  compacts  of  succession,  unless  there  was  imminent 
danger  of  extinction,  were  very  rare.  This  restoration  of  an  old  feeling 
rapidly  strengthened  the  territorial  femxlies ;  but  it  could  not  undo  the 
mischief  which  had  been  already  effected  ;  it  could  not  recover  their  once 
vast  possessions.  The  allodial  domains  of  the  princely  houses  were  now 
moderate ;  for  over  the  territory  to  which  they  succeeded  they  merely  exer- 
cised a  limited  jurisdiction.  And,  before  we  dismiss  the  present  subject, 
we  may  observe,  that  the  period  under  consideration  exhibits  as  great 
change  in  tittes,  as  in  extent  of  authority  and  family  infinence.  Originally, 
as  we  have  more  than  once  observed,  titles  were  inseparable  from  juris- 
diction, but  were  frequently  assumed  within  certain  limitations  by  nobles 
who  had  none.  Thus,  the  dnke,  or  margrave,  or  count,  who  had  been  de- 
posed, not  only  preseiTcd  his  title,  but  transmitted  it  to  his  eldest  son. 
The  next  stage  in  the  progress  of 'inheritance  was,  that  when  the  eldest 
son  inherited  the  title  of  duke,  the  second  would  assume  the  merely  no- 
minal one  of  count,  the  third  that  of  baron.  But,  after  the  introduction  of 
partition,  the  distinction  was  as  often  real  a**  nominal ;  for,  when  the  eldest 
eon  ruled  one  district  with  the  title  of  duke^  the  second  exercised  an  equal 
sovereignty  over  another  as  margrave  or  count.  And  as  the  system  was 
strengthened  by  custom,  the  original  title  descended  to  the  co-heirs :  all 
the  sons  of  a  duke  were  equally  called  dukes;  of  a  count,  counts.  And 
when  the  law  of  primogeniture  was  again  recognised,  though  the  domcun 
was  deemed  indivisible,  the  title  remained  common  to  all  the  sons.  Hence 
the  number  of  poor  princes,  counts,  and  barons,  who  in  Germany  and 
Poland  absolutely  swamf,  and  who,  in  influence  at  least,  and  often  in  edu- 
cation, are  greatly  below  the  lowest  class  of  English  gentry.'* — pp.  309 — 
311. 

The  gradual  but  slow  process  by  which  we  see  an  approach  made 
to  the  possession  of  equal  rights^  may  be  discerned  by  the  inevitable 
course  of  events,  even  from  the  instanced  class  now  spoken  of.  But 
how  averse  the  community  was  to  pursue  the  arts  of  peace,  except 
the  inhabitants  of  imperial  and  confederated  cities,  may  be  learned 
from  the  character  of  the  order  next  in  the  social  scale,  viz.  the 
nobles  who  were  without  territorial  jurisdiction, 

"  Of  these,  some  were  allodial ;  others  were  vassals  of  the  electors  or  the 
princes  ;  others  had  no  lands,  but  subsisted  by  the  sword,  or  were  attached 
to  the  service  or  household  of  some  piince.  In  a  country  where  partition 
so  long  prevailed,  there  would  be  necessarily  many  whose  inheritance  was 
inadequate  to  their  support ;  many  who  had  no  other  inheritance  than  a 
horse,  a  suit  of  armour,  and  a  noble  name.  But  where  every  prince  was 
anxious  to  increase  the  number  of  his  followers,  since  he  thereby  increased 
his  power ;  where  duke,  margrave,  bishop,  abbot,  burgrave,  count,  were 
compelled,  not  from  motives  of  ambition  or  of  pomp,  but  from  self-defence, 
to  maintain  constantly  on  foot  a  certain  number  of  armed  men ;  where  not 
only  the  imperial  cities,  but  the  inferior  wfdled  towns,  readily  received  into 
their  confederation  and  pay  any  horseman  who  presented  himself,  there 
were  resoiuces  enough  for  every  individual  of  the  privileged  class.  When 
feudal  levies  werev^raduaUy  replaced  by  mercenary  troops,  these  adren* 


45^  History  of  the  Germanic  Empire. 

tarere  were  found  necessary  in  every  war,  whether  of  a  public  or  a  privat# 
nature.  Nothing  can  exceed  the  eagerness  with  which  they  rushed  to  any 
standard,  where  pay  was  offered.  *  Little  do  they  care/  says  a  contem* 
porary  writer,  *  whether  the  cause  be  good  or  bad ;  were  the  devil  to  offer 
them  good  wages,  they  would  swarm  around  him  like  summer  flies!' 
But  these  were  the  poor  nobles :  the  rich  ones — ^those,  especially,  who  had 
comfortable  hereditary  domains — might  be  expected  to  live  in  tranquillity. 
Yet  no  men  were  more  restive :  if  they  refused  to  hire  their  swords  to  the 
territorial  prince,  the  elector,  or  even  the  emperor,  they  had  still  private 
quarrels  to  pursue ;  and  their  obligations,  as  members  of  some  particular 
league,  allowed  little  leisure  for  the  cultivation  of  peace.  C^  every  side 
the  rural  noble  found  or  made  enemies :  besides  his  private  ones,  and 
those  of  his  kindred,  and  those  even  of  his  league,  he  had,  as  belonging  to 
an  order,  narrowly  to  watch,  often  openly  to  resist,  the  proceedipga  of 
prince  or  diet.  For  the  support  of  the  mercenary  troops,  the  permanent 
militia  of  the  state,  new  imposts  were  unavoidable.  Was  he  to  bear  a 
portion  of  the  burden  ?  So  said  the  electors,  the  princes,  the  monarch, 
and,  more  than  all,  reason  and  equity ;  but  he  resisted  wherever  he  could 
do  so  with  effect.  And  we  have  proof  that,  in  many  places,  the  ample 
nobles — those  without  territorial  jurisdiction  or  office-— ^med  at  complete 
independence  of  hoth  crown  and  prince.  But,  except  in  times  of  anarchy, 
their  resistance  was  vain  ;  they  resided  within  a  certain  jurisdiction ;  and 
they  were  generally  amenable  to  the  tribunal  of  the  prince.  Yet  there 
were  a  considerable  number  who  enrolled  themselves  in  some  munici- 
pality, and  who  could,  consequently,  bid  defiance  to  the  ariatocraoy. 
Also  the  nobles  who  held  lands,  however  small,  in  future  could  attend 
the  provincial  diets ;  and  there  is  reason  to  infer,  that  even  simple  knights, 
without  fiefs  or  allodial  possessions,  were  sometimes  convoked  with  the 
rest."— pp.  812,  313. 

We  have  now  arrived  at  the  lowest  grade  of  the  social  at^cTy 
upon  whom  our  eye  should  be  particularly  fixed^  for  their  history  is 
most  pregnant  with  the  lessons  we  are  in  this  country  at  the  present 
moment  chiefly  in  need  of  studying. 

"  Amidst  the  revolutions  which  agitated  Germany  during  this  period, 
the  rustic  population  were  not  without  benefit.  In  the  former  chapters  we 
have  seen  their  condition  to  be  progressively  improving ;  that  one  by  one 
their  more  galling  chains  were  loosened.  The  first  from  which  they  were 
ireed  was  their  absolute  dependence  on  their  lord,  who  had  poaaesaed 
over  them  the  power  of  life  and  death :  their  lives  were  now  protected  by 
a  heavy  fine,  and  by  the  penance  inflicted  on  the  homicide.  The  next  step 
exempted  them  from  bodily  servitude ;  and,  though  they  were  still  at- 
tached to  the  glebe,  they  were  not  compelled  to  labour  for  their  lords 
longer  than  a  given  number  of  days  in  each  week ;  often  they  were  not  ex- 
pected to  labour  for  them  at  all,  but  to  peld,  in  lieu  of  service,  a  certain 
portion  of  the  produce.  At  this  stage  they  had  arrived  during  the  last 
period,  viz.,  prior  to  the  accession  of  Rodolf.  The  fourteenth  and  fifteenth 
centuries  witnessed  an  improvement  no  less  salutary.  By  the  sobdiviaion 
of  estates  consequent  on  the  system  of  partition,  many  proprietors  were 
reduced  to  great  poverty.  The  inheritance  was  too  small  to  render  con* 
tinued  residence  either  necessary  or  advisable ;  and  they  often  made  over 
the  land  to  the  cultivator  on  such  terms  as  they  could  command.    As  the 


Hiatary  of  the  Germanic  Empire,  455 

cultivator  was  aoinc  one  of  the  peasants,  or  a  vaasal  of  the  house,  the  act 
involved  an  absolute  emancipation  from  the  yet  lingering  bonds  of  slavery, 
from  the  serfage  which  had  superseded  the  old  evil.     The  conditions  of 
this  transfer  varied  according  to  the  compact :  sometimes  there  was  an 
annual  return  in  produce  ;  more  frequently  in  a  fixed  rent ;  and  we  have 
many  instances  in  which  the  property  was  absolutely  sold,  the  money  to  be 
paid  by  certain  annual  instalments.     Often,  too,  it' was  let  to  the  tenant, 
on  so  long  a  lease  as  to  be  equivalent  to  a  freehold ;  nor  are  there  instances 
wanting  in  which  the  farm  was  to  be  hereditarily  held  by  the  heirs  of  the 
tenant,  subject  to  an  annual  acknowledgment.     From  a  rescript  of  tho 
emperor  Sigismund,  issued  in  the  Nuremberg  diet  of  1431,  we  recognise 
the  existence  of  a  class  of  '  poor  freranen,  resident  on  their  own  land, 
without  superiors,  because  they  had  redeemed  themselves  from  vassalage/ 
Had  not  the  number  been  considerable,  their  existence  would  not  have 
been  thus  formally  indicated.     And  the  condition  of  the  serfs  was  ame- 
liorated, or  rather,  they  were  raised  from  the  state  of  serfs  to  that  of  free 
tenants,  by  other  means,  which  are  well  worthy  of  attention.   The  expenses 
accompanying  the  interminable  private  wars  of  the  period  inevitably  plunged 
the  allodial  proprietor,  small  or  large,  into  debt ;  and,  to  relieve  himself  of 
the  obligation,  he  made  over,  during  a  certain  number  of  years,  or  during 
his  natural  life,  all  interest  in  the  produce  of  the  ground,  for  a  given  sum 
of  money,  often  much  below  the  value.     If  the  tenant  to  whom  the  pro- 
posal was  thus  made,  had  not  the  money  at  disposal,  he  could  bonrow  from 
the  Jews,  who  were  always  ready  to  advance  it,  on  terms,  indeed,  suf- 
ficiently rapacious,  yet  not  ruinous  to  the  borrower.     Generally,  however, 
the  pro]>o8al  was  made  to  a  vassal  who  had  saved,  or  inherited »  a  consider- 
able portion,  at  least,  of  the  sum  demanded ;  and  that  there  were  many 
such  may  be  inferred  from  the  revolution  we  have  before  noticed — ^the 
elevation  of  serfs  to  the  dignity  of  tenants — their  capability  of  acquiring 
and  of  transmitting  property.     Again,  where  the  domain  was  extended, 
the  effect  was  the  same  as  when  it  was  circumscribed.     Though,  by  the 
partitions  which  we  have  so  often  mentioned,  the  possessions  of  ^Eiinilies 
were  subdivided  ad  infinitum^  yet,  from  the  fourteenth  century,  the  family 
contracts  relating  to  mutual  succession  amplified  the  domains  of  several ; 
and,  by  the  ordinary  laws  of  succession,  where  no  such  compacts  existed, 
especially  after  the  restoration  of  the  primogenital  rule,  property  often  ao- 
comulated  into  masses,  and  passed  into  the  same  hands.     Add  to  this  the 
fisct,  that  the  ecclesiastical  domains  were  constantly  increasing,  whether 
by  bequest,  or  purchase,  or  concession ;  and  we  can  have  no  difficulty  ia 
believing  that  a  very  considerable  number  of  domains  were  too  extensive 
to  be  saperintended  by  one  or  even  several  individuals.    When  the  eye  of 
anthorify  was  removed,  the  more  remote  peasant  would  be  little  anxious 
for  the  growth  of  produce  beyond  what  was  necessary  for  the  support  of 
his  family.     Idleness  is  natural  to  man ;  it  is  necessarily  so  to  the  man 
who  feels  that  industry  cannot  much  avail  him  ;  that  a  certain  degree  of 
labour  only  is  requisite  for  his  wants ;  and  that  all  beyond  is  for  the  benefit 
of  a  superior.     He  soon  regards  whatever  exceeds  a  given  modicum  as 
purely  a  work  of  supererogation.     Hence  the  inadequate  cultivation  of  the 
more  isolated  domains,  and  the  little  profit  accruing  from  them.    Expe* 
rience  proved  that  if,  ift  consideration  of  an  annual  rent»  the  land  were 
abandoned  to  the  cultivator,  that  rent  would  be  cheerfully  and  punctually 
Hence,  the  transformation  of  villeins  into  tenants,  who  gained  in 


454  KUg(mr*i  T%erupevHe$  and  tf^giine. 

even  a  greater  proportion  than  their  masters.  In  different  places,  and 
even  in  the  same  place  under  different  circnmstances,  the  conditioos  of  the 
compact  varied,  but  in  all  it  had  a  tendency  to  elevate  the  labourer.  Though 
the  best  feelings  of  humanity  and  the  progressive  influence  of  religion  had 
generaHy  something  to  do  in  the  amelioration  of  his  lot,  the  chief  cause 
was  the  interest  or  the  necessities  of  the  landowner.  Abstract  notions 
of  justice,  unaccompanied  by  present  or  the  prospect  of  future  advantage, 
may  favourably  dispose  the  heart,  but  they  seldom  exercise  a  permanent 
influence  on  the  conduct.  It  is  only  when  the  duties  harmonise  with 
the  fnterests  of  man,  that  we  can  reasonably  hope  for  their  fulfil- 
ment, llie  Christian  philoeopher,  indeed,  knows  that  the  relation 
between  the  two  is  immutable  and  inseparable ;  but  such  knoirledge  is 
obtained  only  by  the  few ;  and  the  bulk  of  mankind  will  prefer  a  present 
and  tangible  to  a  future  and  less  apparent  good.  We  may,  therefore, 
conclude,  that  the  emancipation  of  the  rural  population — an  emancipation 
in  Germany  purely  conditional — ^was  a  result  produced  by  the  natoxal  ten- 
dency of^  events,  by  causes  exclusively  human." — ^pp.  Z\4- — 317. 

Ere  we  close  this  paper,  we  have  only  again  to  express  our  satis- 
faction with  the  contents  of  the  volume  before  us,  and  to  recom- 
mend it  as  one  o£  the  most  instructive  of  the  cheap  compepdimns 
that  bekxig  to  Dr.  Lardni^'s  Cydqpsedia. 


Art.  Ji,''^L»etitTe8  on  the  ordinary  At^ent»  of  Lifo^  as  opfMeabU  to 
nierapeutios  and  Hygiine^  By  Alsxandbr  Kiloour,  M.  D.  JBdin- 
burgh :  Adam  and  Charles  Black.    London :  Longman  &  Co. 

We  had  occasion  lately  to  consider  and  give  oar  opinion  of  Dr. 
Combe's  work  on  ^^  physiology  applied  to  the  Preservation  of 
Health."  We  hailed  it  as  a  most  judicious  and  able  popular 
treatise,  which  was  not  liable  to  the  objections  that  every  weU- 
informed  mind  must  entertaia  regarding  such  medical  works  as 
are  usually  published  for  the  general  reader.  For  whilst  the  latter 
att^Bpt  to  make  the  curing  of  disease  a  popular  science,  he  ad- 
diseased  himself  to  the  principles  and  methods  by  which  health 
might  be  preserved.  This  is  a  field  that  has  been  greatly  negleqted* 
and  yet  it  is  one  of  the  moat  importaat,  and  certainly  tjbe  most 
interesting  that  can  occupy  a  medical  practitioner  or  an  unpro&a* 
sional  person,  in  relation  to  human  life.  But  if  hithoto  ovtf* 
looked,  it  is  ^uite  plain  that  the  department  of  medical  study  and 
science  to  which  we  have  referred,  is  no  longer  to  be  so.  JSor  do 
we  reauire  any  other  evidence  on  which  to  found  this  conviction^ 
than  tne  work  we  have  just  named  as  haying  lately  engaged  our 
attentiouj  and  the  one  which  is  now  before  us. 

Dr.  Kilgour's  Lectures  on  the  ordinary  Agents  of  Life,  as  appli- 
cable to  Therapeutics  and  Hygiene,  embrace  a  kindred  though 
wider  range  than  Dr,  Combe's,  and  contain  much  more  which  is 
addressed  properly  to  the  medical  stndent.  At  the  same  time,  the 
volttme  pisesenta  a  vast  amount  of  faets  aod  reasoning  which  is  leml 


KHgom^t  Tkifii^eutks  and  Hygi^e.  4SB 

to  {be  capacity  of  any  ordinary  unfM'oftfisibnal  person,  and  ia  there^^ 
fore  in  so  far  a  popular  treatise  which  falls  properly  within  the 
sphere  of  our  journal.  To  such  parts  and  views  we  accordingly 
confine  ourselves ;  and  these  we  purpose  sometimes  to  abridge  and 
sometimes  to  extract  at  length,  for  the  sake  of  our  readers,  as  our 
limits  may  permit.  For  such  a  work  as  the  one  now  before  us  is 
worthy  of  being  widely  made  known ;  and  we  possess  no  other 
means  so  well  fitted  to  accomplish  such  an  end,  as  to  l«t  it  speak 
for  itself.  It  is  then  rather  as  a  servant  to  such  a  cultivator  of 
knowledge  as  Dr.  Kilgour  proves  himself  to  be,  than  as  critics, 
that  we^ke  up  these  Lectures. 

It  is  here  not  unsuitable  nor  unnecessary,  however,  to  say  9 
word  or  two  on  the  character  of  the  author,  as  a  writer,  belore 
listening  to  him  as  a  medical  teacher.  He  is  then,  to  a  &ult, 
difitise  in  style  and  matter ;  we  may  call  him  a  rambler,  as  the 
preface  and  introduction  amplyprove.  It  appears  to  us  that  what-' 
ever  came  uppermost  in  his  mind  was  given  out  just  as  it  came ; 
and  since  he  is  endowed  with  a  grasping  intellect,  that  has  gathered 
no  ordinary  amount  of  facts,  and  heaped  up  no  mean  stock  of  leani*' 
ing,  the  field  out  of  which  he  plucked  has  been  immense.  In  short, 
he  is  rather  a  bold  and  random  than  a  dexterous  reaper.  When 
speaking  of  learning,  we  must  add,  that  its  display  is  obtrusive,  by 
the  author's*  handling,  rather  than  so  easy  and  pdislied  as  to  be 
beautiful  and  seem  natural.  But  we  must  proceed  to  the  work 
itself;  uid  firom  what  we  shall  present  of  it,  oor  readers  wilt  be 
enabled  to  judge  for  themselves  of  its  blemishes  and  merits,  with  tk 
considerable  degree  of  accuracy. 

The  author,  at  the  commencement,  states,  that  thov^h  the  sttb« 
ject-on  which  he  has  entered  be  much  neglected  in  this  countyy, 
it  is  not  owing  to  the  want  of  books  devoted  to  it,  but  because  they 
are  based  on  no  scientific  principles — because  they  are  notfainr 
more  than  a  bare  collection  of  precepts — **  Thou  sbalt  d»  tlii»,  * 
and  «  Thou  shalt  not  do  that."  This  he  most  properly  considers  a 
poor  method  of  giving  instruction ;  for,  although  such  precepts  be 
frequently  the  result  of  experience,  rules,  without  an  explanation  of 
the  princiides  on  which  they  are  founded,  are  never  satisfiictonr ; 
and  in  a  practical  science  like  medicine,  where  the  judgment  of  tlie 
practitioner  must  so  often  guide  him,  it  is  of  essential  moment  that 
tliese  principles  be  well  understood,  otherwise  he  can  never  modify 
the  general  rules  drawn  from  them,  to  suit  each  particular  case. 

We  pass  very  slightly  over  the  prefatory  and  introductory  matter 
in  this  volume,  which  are  really  not  remarkably  ludd  as  to  wlnt 
the  author  means  to  do,  and  not  to  do  ;  for  he  is  so  fond  of  having 
his  hand  in  with  some  ancient  Greek's  or  more  modem  foragn 
physician's  dictum,  or  absurdity,  that  he  cumbers  himself;  and  es^ 
he  also  is  given  to  strike  right  and  left,  according  as  his  knowledge 
furnishes  him  with  weapons,  he  not  unfrequently  interrupts  the 
reader's  perception  of  the  direct  drift  of  the  discourse.    But  to. 


456  Kilgour^s  Therapeutict  and  Hygiene* 

come  to  the  immediate  subject  of  the  work^  some  of  dur  Maders 
may  wish  to  know  what  the  ancients  understood  by  Hygiene  and 
Therapeutics. 

These  are  Greek  terras,  the  first  comprehending  those  things 
which  are  not  part  of  the  body,  and  yet  essential  to  its  existence ; 
such  as  food,  drink,  air,  motion  and  rest,  sleep  and  watching,  reten- 
tions and  secretions,  and  passions  of  the  mind.  The  second  term 
comprehended  the  theory  of  the  treatment  of  all  diseases  by  certain 
agents ;  and,  consequently,  a  knowledge  of  these  agents,  of  their 
physical  properties,  their  actions  on  the  human  body,  andjthe 
manner  or  forms  in  which  they  are  to  be  used.  Such,  says  our 
author,  was  what  the  ancient  physicians  meant  by  these  words. 
But  equal  attention  has  not  been  paid  to  such  departments  by  the 
modems ;  at  least,  in  England  we  have  not  even  a  name  lor 
Hygiene,  whilst  in  our  medical  schools  it  is  not  known  as  a  part  of 
education.  As  to  our  province  in  the  present  article,  we  have  no- 
thing to  do  with  a  very  nice  definition  of  both  or  either  of  the  terms, 
and  our  extracts  or  observations  will  proceed  under  the  general 
conception  that  the  work  before  us  treats  Hygiene  in  reference  to 
the  healthy  man,  and  the  means  of  preserving  him  in  that  state,  as 
well  as  in  its  application  to  invalids.  This  subject,  therefore,  em- 
braces the  means  which  will  be  taken  by  governments  for  the  public 
health,  as  well  as  those  by  each  individual  for  his  single  welfiau*e. 

It  thus  appears  at  once  that  the  subject  is  a  broad  and  deeply 
interesting  one ;  nor  has  it  passed  under  the  hands  of  Dr.  Kil- 
gour  without  eliciting  most  striking  and  valuable  elucidation.  And 
well  may  he  say,  that  now-a-days  people  trust  to  powerful  medicines, 
to  the  neglect  of  the  agencies  of  food,  drink,  the  materials  of  the 
couch,  the  moisture  or  dryness  of  the  atmosphere,  baths  and  exer- 
cises. The  importance  of  these  is  a  piece  of  knowledge,  which 
the  young  practitioner  only  acquires,  in  general,  by  some  sad  expe- 
rience and  oitter  disappointment.  But  botany  and  chemistry  have 
usurped  the  place  of  such  a  science.  The  discovery  of  every  country 
has  led  to  new  medicines,  so  that  mountains  of  them  now  fill  the 
l^pothecary^s  shop,  where  many  are  ever  resorting  in  search  of 
health ;  and  where  many  poison  themselves  to  death,  or  at  least  are 
rendered  hypochondriacal,  when  a  proper  acouaintance  with  the 
powers  of  certain  elements,  cheap  as  the  air,  ana  accessible  as  ordi- 
nary food,  clothing,  and  exercise,  would  have  been  a  pleasant  and 
infallible  cure. 

As  the  science  of  Hygi^no  is  not  only  directed  to  cure  the  dis- 
eased, but  to  preserve  and  improve  the  Round,  both  as  individuals 
and  communities,  the  author  therefore  says  there  are  three  distinct 
objects  to  which  his  work  refers — viz.  curing  the  sick,  preserving 
the  health  of  the  individual,  and  protecting  and  improving  the 
health  of  the  public.  On  the  last  nead,  and  what  the  French  ceiII 
Public  Hygiene,  he  gives  the  most  favourable  testimony,  in  bis 
introductory  lecture,  to  our  practice  and  institutions,  and  attributes 


Kilgour*9  Therapeutia  and  Hygiene,  457 

our  higher  average  of  life  over  that  of  other  nations,  ancient  and 
modem,  to  our  feeding  the  hungry,  clothing  the  naked,  and  helping 
the  sick  and  broken-hearted;  to  our  preventing  the  intercourse  of 
the  contagious  with  the  healthy,  and  to  our  providing  all  the  circum- 
stances of  cleanliness,  warmth,  ventilation,  &c.,  by  the  neglect  of 
which  the  health  of  communities  always  suffers.     Besides  what  hos- 
pitals and  legislators  have  done,  we  can  boast  of  names  whose  patri- 
otic philanthropy  have  bequeathed  to  the  nation  infinite  blessings 
of  a  sanatory  nature.     Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montague,  whilst  tra- 
velling with  her  husband  to  his  embassy  at  Constantinople,  wit- 
nessed inoculation,  and,  with  all  a  mother's  hopes,  submitted  her 
children  to  the  operation,  and  the  result,  when  known  in  Britain, 
was  the  means  of  saving  many  lives.     Howard,  who  found  our  pri- 
sons hot-beds  of  disease,  showed  that  cleanliness  wa$  compatible 
with  security  and  punishment,  and  also  with  moral  reform.     The 
thirst  for  gain  in  pestilential  and  unhealthy  climes  brought  many  to 
an  untimely  grave,  owing  to  the  ignorance  of  the  principles  of  naval 
Hygiene.     I'he  early  history  of  the  English  as  well  as  the  Spanish 
colonies,  shows  how  deadly  were  the  voyages  to  and  from  them. 
But,  as  our  author  asks.  Who  now  dreads  a  voyage  to  the  West 
Indies?    Military  Hygiene,  too,  as  he  continues  to  remark,  is  now 
well  understood;  during  the  last  war  the  British  army,  under  Sir 
James  M*Grigor,  being  a  perfect  model  with  respect  to  attention  to 
the  preservation  of  the  soldiers'  health.     Among  the  illustrious 
benefactors  of  mankind  in  the  department  referred  to,  is  it  necessary 
to  mention  Jenner?     But  we  like  a  name  which  the  author  has 
placed  next  to  the  discoverer  of  vaccination,  as  pointing  out  one  of 
the  best  friends  to  human  health — it  is  that  of  Watt.     For  "  every 
stroke  of  the  steam-piston,  which  is  doing  the  work  of  ten  or  forty 
men,  is  adding  nearly  ten  or  forty  times  to  the  common  welfare  and 
good;  since  by  how  much  the  more  cheaply  and  plentifully  every 
necessary  is  procured,  by  so  much  is  the  public  health  improved." 
**  Oppressively  taxed  and  over-worked  as  we  are,  England  is  still 
the  healthiest  country  of  the  world.     The  period  of  human  life  is 
greater  in  the  town  of  Birmingham,  with  all  its  smoke  and  all  its 
noxious  vapours,  and  its  close  and  hot  manufactories,  than  in  the 
city  of  Paris  or  Naples  itself."     Now  these  are  ascertained  facts, 
and  proclaim  consolatory  conclusions. 

The  author  proceeds  to  consider  the  scientific  character  and 
powers  of  individual  agents  upon  the  human  body.  The  atmosphere 
is  that  which  he  first  takes  under  discussion ;  this  element  possesses 
the  essential  properties  of  matter,  and  certain  accidental  qualities 
which  more  or  less,  according  to  circumstances,  afiect  the  human 
frame.  It  may  be  heavy  or  it  may  be  light,  in  motion  or  at  rest ; 
warm  or  cold ;  dry  or  moist ;  it  may  also  possess  more  or  less  of 
light  and  electricitv ;  and  again,  it  may  hold  within  a  certain  extent, 
and  arising  from  local  sources,  efHuvia  and  emanations.  The  fol- 
lowing extract   treat-s  of  one   of  the   accidental  qualities  of  the 


456  Kiigour*8  Therapeutics  and  HygiSne. 

atmosplieare  in  a  'manner  to  give  it  an  importance  not  generally 
thought  of. 

"  Light  exercises  a  very  great  influence  on  living  animal  matter,  aa  weR 
as  upon  vegetable.  The  action  of  the  rays  of  light  upon  colour  is  suffi- 
eiently  well  known.  The  parts  exposed  to  them  are  always  of  a  deeper  tint 
Jium  those  which  are  covered,  and  the  union  of  (he  two  is  distinct ;  they 
never  shade  into  each  other.  It  is  the  same  with  vegetables  as  with  animals. 
A  flower  will  spring  from  a  plant  kept  in  total  dacknesn,  but  it  is  perfectly 
white ;  whilst,  again,  the  flowers  of  the  tropics  are  all  distinguished  by  the 
extreme  brilliancy  and  depth  of  their  colours.  By  the  continued  exposure 
to  the  light,  not  only  does  the  skiu  get  darker,  but  it  likewise  gets  thicker, 
coarser,  and  harder.  It  would  seem  as  if,  in  warm  climates,  nature,  in 
8omp  measure,  balanced  the  heat  with  the  light ;  and  that  the  latter  was 
the  preventive  of  the  too  great  perspiration  and  relaxation  produced  by  the 
Igrmer.  The  light  increases  lil^ewise  the  solidity  and  tension  of  the  mos- 
eular  fibre,  and  it  is  owing  to  these  drcuin stances  that  one  sweats  more  in 
the  shade  than  under  the  direct  rays  of  the  sun,  and  that  the  labourer  Ls, 
comparatively  with  the  idler,  as  luudy  in  the  tropics  as  in  the  temperate 
regions.  In  no  way  is  the  influence  of  light  better  distinguished  from 
tiiat  of  heat,  tlian  by  what  we  find  in  warm  cojULo^tries,  where  we  perceive 
that  the  man  who  lives  in  the  shade,  covered  i^ith  garments,  is  of  a  soft 
iand  flaccid  habit  of  body,  inactive  and  lazy ;  whilst  he  again  who  is  obliged 
to  labour  almost  entirely  unclothed,  in  the  face  of  the  bumii^  sun,  is 
strong,  active,  and  vigorous.  Witness  the  Chinese  Mandarin,  and  the 
Arab.  When  light,  especially  accompanied  with  heat,  is.  veiy  intense,  it 
excites  inflammation  under  the  form  of  erysipelas ;  and  when  it  strikes 
suddenly  it  occasions  inflammation  of  the  brain,  and  sometimes  death,  as 
in  the  well  known  instance  of  the  cowp  de  soleil.  It  is  frequently,' iike- 
wise,  ti»e  excitii^  cause  of  mania.  Bsquirol  states,  that  the  greatest  num^ 
ber  of  cases  of  madness  occur  in  su^uner,  fewer  in  spring,  fewer  still  in 
autumn,  and  the  least  in  winter.  Deformity, .  and  more  espeoiaUy  that 
arising  from  rickets  in  young  children,  has  been  ascribed  to  the  deficiency 
of  light.  It  is  well  known  to  medical  men  that  scrofola,  in.aM  its  va- 
rieties, is  most  frequently  met  with  amongst  the  inhabitants  of  narrow 
streets  and  lanes. 

"  But  light  is  not  solely  a  stimulant  or  a  tonic  in  consequence  of  its 
rays  foiling  on  the  body.  It  acts  likewise  as  such  by  its  application  to 
the  eye.  This  organ  is  exercised  by  it,  in  the  same  way  as  the  limbs  are 
exercised  by  walking,  and  the  benefit  of  this  exercise  is  distributed  over 
the  whole  body.  A  person  gets  as  much  fatigued,  and  perhaps  more  pain- 
fully wearied,  by  too  long  exercise  of  light,  as  by  too  long  walking,  'ilie 
eye  too  of  a  person  accustomed  to  examine  minute  objects  becomes 
:atronger  from  this  constant  exercise,  as  the  right  arm  of  the  blacksmith 
•becomes  miicfi  more  vigorous  by  the  constant  use  of  the  sledge  hanuner. 
In  the  cell  which,  to  the  man  who  has  just  quitted  the  blaze  of  heavenls 
iday,  appears  filled  with  impenetrate  darkness,  the  wretched  and  miaerable 
prisoner  can  distinguish  every  object,  and  can  watch  the  labours,  of  the 
spider,  or  follow,  with  his  eye,  the  track  of  the  loathsome  worm. 

"  After  every  operation  on  the  eye,  or  in  every  case  of  acute  disease  of 
that  organ,  the  light  is  carefully  excluded.  And  this,  it  may  be  said,  is 
right,  because  the  light  affects  the  organ  directly.  But  have  we  not  the 
darkened  chamber,  in  every  acute  disease  ?     And  what  is  the  reason  of 


Kii^wr'i  Tkeri^euiie9  and  *Hpgiene.  4d0 

.tbi«?  It  is  beeauBe  the  tight  affiecting  the  eyx  bcconraB,  indireo^,  as 
much  a  stimulant,  and  consequently  highly  injurious,  as  heat  applied  to 
the  body,  or  brandy  taken  into  the  stomach.  Moredcatfaa  take  .place  dop- 
ing the  night  than  during  the  day.  Fourtere  says,  that  nearly  two-thirds 
die  during  the  night.  What  is  the  reason  of  this  ?  but  that  the  weakened 
body,  deprived  of  <every,  the  slightest,  stimulus — of  the  stimulus  conveyed 
by  one  of  the  acutest  of  the  senses,  sinks  fairly  exhausted  into  everlasting 
rest !"— pp.  S4— 37. 

On  atmospheric  effluvia  the  author  asserts  that  the  poet  was  not 
so  &r  Wrong  when  he  said^  in  satire,  of  a  fashionable  female,  that 
fehe  would 

"*'  Die  from  a  rose  in  aromatic  pain.*' 

For  he  adds,  that  the  odours  of  bouquets  of  newly  pulled  flowers, 
which  some  band  has  placed  on  the  pillow  of  a  helpless  sufferer, 
may  act  as  a  stimulant  or  as  a  narcotic.  He  quotes  authority  even 
for  the  bleeding  of  the  nose  from  the  smelling  of  an  apple,  ana  also 
fr'om  the  smelling  of  a  rose. 

We  must  pass  over  the  agency  of  the  atmosphere  inTherapeutics, 
as  treated  by  the  (uathor,  idfter  affording  room  for  one  short  ex- 
tract. 

"  There  is  a  practical  remark  here  of  great  importance.  Children  suf- 
fer from  a  vitiated  air,  in  proportion  to  their  youth.  ^The  great  mor- 
tality amongst  the  children  of  the  poor  has  been  ascribed  not  so  much  to 
a  deficiency  of  food  as  to  a '  deficiency  of  pure  air.  Sir  John  Sinclair 
affirms  that  oue-half  of  the  children  born  in  London  die  before  two  years 
of  age,  in  conaequence  of  the  impurity  of  the  air  of  that  city.  '  In  the 
lying-in  hospital  of  Dublin,  the  proportton  was  found  still  greater ;  for,  in 
the  space  of  four  years,  ending  anno,  1 784,  no  less  a  number  than  2,944 
infants,  out  of  7,650,  died  within  the  first  fortnight  after  their  birth.'  it- 
was  fortuaately  discovered  that  this  melancholy  circumstance  arose  from 
their  not  having  a  sufficient  quantity  of  good  air  to  breathe.  The  hoapi* 
tal,  therefore,  was  completely  ventilated,  the  consequence  of  which  was 
that  the  proportion  of  deaths  was  reduced  to  279.  Hence  there  was  rea- 
son to  suppose  that  out  of  2,944  who  had  died  in  the  space  of  four  years 
before,  no  less  a  number  than  2,655  had  perished  solely  from  want  of  a 
due  supply  of  fresh  air." — ^p.  44. 

As  to  the  means  of  correcting  the  state  of  the  atmosphere,  we  only 
quote  the  following  enlightened  passage  on  the  effect  of  cultivation. 

^^  Vegetation,  when  asssisted  by  haman  contrivances,  is  the  best  possi- 
ble means  of  improving  the  air,  and  rendering  a  country  fitter  for  the 
abode  of  mankind.  Cultivation  removes  the  corrupting  and  decaying 
vegetables ;  and  by  turning  them  under  the  earth  makes  theoi  nourish  the 
g^und  instead  of  poison  the  air.  Many  of  our  colonies,  at  one  time  so 
deadly,  are  now  healthy,  not  so  much  from  the  care  of  the  new-comer  in 
avoiding  the  remote  causes  of  disease,  as  from  the  greater  number  of 
these  causes  being  removed  by  cultivation.  I  mean  here,  by  cultivation, 
that  treatment  of  the  land  by  which  it  will  furnish  the  largest  possible 
quantity  of  food  for  man,  and  the  domestic  animals  he  employs.  Where- 
ever  we  find  the  cereaUa  capable  of  growing,  that  country  is,  or,  by  hu« 
man  labour,  may  be  made,  healthy.     Cultivation^  likewise,  always  renders. 


460  Ktfy<nir*s  Therapeuticf  and  Hygihie. 

a  country  warmer ;  for  a  large  quantity  of  vegetable  uintter  b  nused  on  t 
given  space ;  and  what  is  vegetable  life  but  the  conversion  of  certain  gues, 
oxygen,  hydrogen,  azot,  and  carbonic  acid  into  solid  matter,  and  a  change 
of  form — an  alteration  from  a  rarer  to  a  denser  state — ^which  must  be  ac- 
companied with  the  extrication  of  heat  ?  What  is  it  that  makes  living 
vegetables  so  difficult  of  being  frozen,  compared  to  dlbad  ones,  but  tlui 
constant  formation  and  existence  of  caloric  in  them  ?  As  an  example  cf 
the  evolution  of  heat,  by  the  process  of  vegetation,  it  may  be  mentioned, 
that  on  looking  into  a  wood  in  spring,  we  ii^  find  the  small  plants  more 
advanced  in  size  and  strength  than  tliose  of  the  plains.  In  the  woods  of 
North  America  small  berries  are  found  much  sooner  ripe  than  in  tht 
cleared  lands." — pp.  54,  55. 

On  the  means  of  protecting  the  body  against  the  injurioas  actioa 
of  the  atmosphere,  habitations,  towns,  and  villages,  and  the  manage- 
ment of  fires  are  considered.  As  to  the  first,  amongst  a  great  deal 
more  of  equally  judicious  matter,  he  says  that  a  third  part  of  the 
twenty- four  hours  at  least  we  spend  motionless,  and  exhaling  the 
rankest  and  most  fetid  part  of  our  cutaneous  and  pulmonary  secre- 
tions, in  perhaps  a  small  and  confined  bed-room,  in  order  that  we 
may  shiver  and  starve  in  large  dining  and  drawing-rooms  during  the 
rest  of  the  day  that  we  remain  in  the  house.  As  to  towns  and  vil- 
lages, he  quotes  authority  for  declaring  that  streets  and  lanes  are 
their  lungs,  and  ougfit  to  be  spacious.  And  on  the  management  of 
fires  he  asserts,  that  the  construction  of  the  fireplace,  which  is  the 
best  of  all  the  modes  of  heating  a  room  as  respects  ventilation, 
ought  to  be  Huch^that  there  will  be  no  smoke  thrown  into  the  room; 
and  next,  that  there  be  the  greatest  reflection  or  radiation  of  heat 
For  these  purposes  oval  shapes  are  better  than  square,  because  they 
send  the  rays  ofi*  in  more  directions. 

The  author  follows  up  the  several  branches  into  which  he  £- 
vided  the  chapter  on  the  agency  of  the  atmosphere,  with  certain 
suggestions,  one  of  which  embraces  the  following  sentiments,  that 
are  worthy  of  notice  fully  as  much  from  a  late  occurrence  of  great 
notoriety  in  the  nation,  as  from  any  thing  new  in  their  truth. 

"If  men  will  breathe,  in  all  defiance  of  Hygiene,  the  air  of  the  present 
House  of  Commons,  how  can  we  expect  that  their  ordinances  will  best- 
tended  to,  when  their  own  example  is  so  bad.  It  is  now  several  yesn 
since  Sir  John  Sinclair  (I  believe)  pointed  out  the  deleterious  air  gene- 
rated in  the  present  small  and  confined  house  ;  and  yet,  the  building  of  a 
place  more  suitable  for  the  health  of  men  engaged  in  the  great  duties  of 
legislation  has  been  opposed.  Association  of  ideas  is  the  ground  of  op- 
position !  Destroy  the  place  in  which  Pym,  Vane,  Burke,  and  Ktt  thon- 
dered  forth  their  eloquence  \  Association  of  ideas  will  possibly  support 
some  men  against  the  pain  of  certain  noxious  physical  ngents  for  a  while; 
but  aii  the  members  are  not  possessed  of  this  mental  operation  and  the 
emotions  consequent  on  it,  to  ttxe  same  extent,  whilst  all  breathe  alike  tlie 
mephitic  air ;  and  therefore  many  must,  and  do,  suffer  severely.  Such  an 
air  not  only  eventually  undermines  the  body,  but  it  injures  the  underhand- 
ing  for  the  time.  We  all  feel  the  lassitude  and  want  of  attention  in  an 
ill-aired  and  crowded  church,  or  in  an  assembly,  a  lecture-Foom^  or  even  • 


KUgpur^B  Therqpeutici  0nd  Hygiine.  461 

ilihe»tre»  After  IhB  pkce  has  been  }ieated,  and  the  vkal  air  consumed.  To 
what  ahould  men  come  witli  their  minds  in  so  full  stren^h  and  vigour  as 
to  tbe  buriness  of  legislation  ?  Will  the  mantle  of  Pitt  or  of  Fox  descend 
qnly  ifi  the  old  chapel  of  St.  Stephen,,  or  ih  it  of  so  miich  value  to  the 
public  now»  that  the  lives  of  several  representatives  should  be  sacrificed 
jearly  in  waiting  for  its  descent  to  the  shoulders  of  some  vaip  aspirant 
to  the  g^reat  honour  ?  Hereafter,  when  posterity  reads  that  our  legisla* 
pon  settled  the  laws  of  the  nation  at  the  dead  of  night,  and  in  an  apart- 
ilient  crammed*  in  every  possible. si)ot,  with  human  bodies,  and  blazing 
lights,  they  will  possibly  think  of  the  ancient  Germans,  who  first  consi- 
.dered  their  new  laws  whilst  drunk,  and  then  reviewed  them  when  sober ; 
and  they  will  prefer  their  system  of  legislation  to  ours,  in  so  far  as  they 
had  the  excited  and  sharpened  intellect,  occasioned  by  the  stimulns  of 
drink,  in  addition  to  the  cool  and  dispassionate  judgment  of  sobriety; 
whilst  our  legislators  have  the  effects  of  the  soporific  and  mind-dislocating 
mephitic  air,  added  to  the  natural  and  clamant  demand  of  the  mind  and 
body  for  rest  and  sleep.** — pp.  65,  66. 

We  must  not  enter  into  the  lecture  on  baths^ — ^not  because  it  con- 
tains less  valuable  or  new  matter  than  the  other  parts  of  the 
volume^  but  because  the  subject  has  been  more  hackneyed  than 
some  that  are  taken  up  afterwards  by  the  author.  Indeed^  out 
limits  never  can  allow  as  to  do  anv  thing  like  conveying  an  adequate 
idea  of  the  contents  of  even  a  slender  volume,  provided  it  be  de- 
voted to  minute  and  careful  descriptions  or  discussions  either  on  a 
variety  of  scientific  or  practical  topics.  If  we  can  present  our 
readers  with  a  short  but  fair  account  of  the  character  and  mejits  of 
a  work,  and  with  a  few  specimens  in  support  of  our  opinions,  as 
well  as  to  enable  them  to  form  a  judgment  for  themselves,  and  also 
to  know  where  certain  things  are  to  be  found,  nothing  more  can  be 
reasonably  expected  of  us.  This  it  is  ever  our  conscientious  study 
to  do ;  accordmgly,  we  proceed  to  quote  a  few  most  important  and 
striking  passages  from  the  portion  of  Dr.  Kilgour's  volume  which 
we  have  not  yet  touched. 

On  the  subject  of  clothing,  the  Doctor's  humour,  taste,  sarcasm, 
and  power,  may  in  some  measure  be  discovered  in  his  strictures 
levelled  at  the  dress  of  his  own  sex,  that  of  the  fair,  and  of 
children. 

"  Dr,  Willich,  in  his  book  on  *  Diet  and  Regimen,'  la  a  great  enemy  to 
tight  dressing,  and  he  ascribes  a  long  hst  of  disorders  to  this  cause.  He 
brings  forward,  in  support  of  his  opinions,,  a  wliole  regiment  of  soldiers, 
who  were  more  cut  up  by  their  Colonel's  admiration  for  stocks,  tight 
wais^aaads  and  garters,  than  by  the  play  of  the  enemy's  batteries.  On 
the  sahiect  of  breeches,  the  Doctor  is  particularly  eloquent,  and  hauls  for- 
ward a  German  who  appears  to  have  considered  this  article  of  clothing  as 
.one  of  supererogation ;  and,  from  having  perhaps  lost  his  breeches,  meta- 
phorically speakmg,  wrote  a  whole  book  to  prove  that  the  garment  is  en- 
tirely useless.  '  Many  of  the  remarks  already  suggested,'  says  Willich, 
'•  reelecting  the  form  and  substance  of  other  parts  of  dress  are  likewise 
applicable  to  the  article  of  breechss.  Yet  the  ingenior.s  observations 
laUdy  .published,  on.  this  aubject  by  Dr.  Faust,  an  eminent  physician  .in 

TOL.  IV.   (1834.)    NO.  IV.  L  L 


463  KilgoMr*9 '  Therapeutics  and  HygHme. 

Oermany,  are  by  no  meiiDS  so  conclasive  as  to  induce  us  to  abandon  tt 
article  of  dress  not  only  rendered  necessary  by  the  laws  of  decoinm,  but 
which,  when  properly  constructed,  is  even  of  considerable  service.'  Good 
heavens,  give  up  our  breeches !  No,  neither  for  Dr.  Faust,  nor  the  still 
greater  Mephistopheles ;  neither  for  Faust  the  disciple  of  the  Devil,  nor 
this  Faust,  the  disciple  of  Folly.  '  Tight  and  contracting  leather  breeches, 
purposely  contrived  to  display  an  elegant  shape  of  the  limbs,  are  extremely 
inconvenient,  occasion  numbness  and  chilliness  all  over  the  hip  and  thigh, 
and  a  painful  pressure  of  the  pudenda.'  On  the  subject  of  shoes.  Dr. 
Willich  is  equally  minute,  and  here  he  gets  hold  of  a  Low  German,  the 
celebrated  anatomist  Camper,  who,  admiring  the  profession  of  King  Crispin, 
wrote  *  a  particular  book,*  as  Willich  calls  it,  on  the  proper  form  and  size 
of  shoes.  One  improvement  which  Dr.  Willich  takes  the  merit  of,  is  the 
introducing  the  shoes  made  to  the  shape  of  each  foot — a  little  bit  of  mis- 
take,  by  the  bye,  this  assumption  on  his  part.  Yet  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  much  mischief  and  disease  are  occasioned  by  tight  dressing.** — 
pp.  113,  114. 
A  fine  woman/  he  declares,  has  no  oceasion  for  stays  :  she  is 

"  Small  by  degrees,  and  beaatifnlly  less, 
From  the  soft  bosom  to  the  slender  waist." 

And  then  again^  in  a  greater  proportion  does  she  expand^  so  as  to 
render  such  an  artificisJ  constraint  unnecessary. 

*•  Why  do  so  many  fashionable  ladies  *  stand  awry  ?*  Why  hare  we 
so  many  crooked  spines  ?  It  comes  of  wearing  stays.  The  muscles  that  sup- 
port the  spine  are  strong  and  powerful ;  and  the  more  they  are  exercised  by 
the  frollicking  and  free  motions  of  gp-owing  youth,  the  stronger  they  become. 
When  Miss  is  bound  in  stays,  these  muscles,  like  those  of  a  bandaged  leg, 
are  diminished  in  twe^  and  strength  ;  and  she  certainly  has  a  slimmer  body; 
but  no.  mechanical  contrivance  of  support  is  equal  to  God's  handiwork ; 
stays  are  not  equal  to  muscles.  Miss's  head,  though  in  one  sense  perhaps 
light  enough,  is  now  too  heavy  for  her  vertebral  column  to  bear,  and  she  bends 
under  it.  Or,  if  she  will  add  accomplishments  to  a  slim  waist,  leaning 
over  the  harp  or  the  portfolio,  she  speedily  gives  the  spine,  now  composed 
merely  of  bones  slightly  bound  together,  a  hitch  to  one  side. 

'*  There  is  not  one  boy  in  a  thousand  with  crooked  spine.  Nor  is  it 
likely  to  be  so,  fox^  other  reasons  besides  exercise  of  muscles.  With  man, 
whose  lot  is  to  labour,  the  broad  articulating  surfaces  of  the  different  bones 
are  kept  in  their  proper  places  by  strong  ligaments,  and  the  poweribl  ten* 
dons  of  muscles.  In  the  girl,  again — ^in  Uie  female  intended  by.  nattire 
for  the  most  free  and  beautiful  motions — for  the  agile,  flexile,  and  nosS 
lovely  bendings  and  writhings,  the  articulating  surfaces  sre  jsmall^  the  liga- 
ments lax  and  supple,  but  the  compaiative  weakness  of  joints  is  oompen* 
sated  for  by  the  fineness  of  poise  given  by  muscles  governed  by  the  tmattt 
acute  and  delicate  nervous  sensibility.  „  Destroy  these  muscles,  (or  ii^wDO 
that  fine  nervous  sensibility),  \vhich  had  another  use  besides  giving  BEief« 
roundness  and  beauty  of  mould,  and  the  woman  becomes,  in  r^dity,  «a  iU«> 
jointed  machine ;  she  shakes  and  lalls  to  this  side  or  that,  accoiding  latiM 
laws  of  gravity. 

"  Much  was  said  lately  about  the  distortions  caused  in  .the  different  aa* 
nufactories,  by  men  who  knew  only  about  the  matter  fsom  their  levadfiaii^ 
their  own  closets.     1  have  very  seldom  seen  distortions  in  the  mill  jifftT^ 


iSlgour^s  Therapeutics  and  Hygiene.  463 

«nd  these  almost  invariably  belong^  to  the  individual  before  going  to  the 
work ;  whereas  it  is  now  a  matter  of  notoriety,  that  there  is  scarcely  a 
young  girl  in  a  fttshionable  boarding-school  whose  spine  is  not  morbidly 
crooked.  All  the  girls  in  the  mills  are  engaged,  more  or  less,  in  muscular 
exercise,  and  most  of  them  are  obliged  to  work  with  their  clothes  free  and 
%0oss  upon  them,  so  as  not  to  impede  their  exertions.  Many  of  them  pos- 
sess a  finer  carriage  than  a  young  lady  who  has  squandered  much  of  het 
money,  as  well  as  her  health,  on  the  posture-master.  It  is  not  distortion 
«f  the  person  that  is  to  be  dreaded  in  the  miUs ;  it  is  exhausting  labour, 
and  a  vitiated  atmosphere.  Yet  I  hold  a  young  lady  in  a  boarding-school, 
ms  manv  of  these  institutions  are  at  present  conducted,  as  in  a  worse  con- 
dition than  the  factory  girl ;  for  continued  mental  irritation  (miscalled  ap*^ 
plication),  close  confinement,  tight  stays,  slops  and  hashes,  are  more  in* 
jurions  than  even  ten  hours'  labour."— pp.  117 — 119. 

The  present  fashion  of  clothing  children^  founded  upon  the  notion 
of  haraening  them^  by  keeping  their  arms  and  chests  entirely  un- 
covered^  and  from  the  stoniach  downwards  in  almost  a  state  of 
nudity,  he  ridicules  aa  most  preposterous  and  cruel.  Indeed  it  is 
clearly  accardii»g  to  oonimoa  knowledge,  that  if  they  survive  such 
scBsoeiirgt  it  is  because  they  are  &aturally-  strong. 

"  A  chubby  child  in  this  dress,  in  a  drawing-room,  is  no  doubt  a  pretty 
•ight;  andtlie  guests  tickle  the  mamma  by  pattiag  the  cheeks  and  bare 
necks  of  the  sweet  little  masters  and  misses ;  but  there  cannot  be  a  morel 
infamous  practice  than  that  of  sending  young  children  out  with  their  arms, 
their  necks  and  breasts,  and  their  legs,  exposed  almost  wholly  to  the  in- 
Aaence  of  a  cold  and  dry,  or  cold  and  mobt  day.  Mamma  will  not  bodge 
wtkliout  her  shawl,  and  furs,  and  flannels ;  but  as  to  a  piece  of  flannel  about 
any  of  the  children,  unless  when  they  are  really  sick,  she  would  as  soon 
think  of  wrapping  them  in  a  Cashmere  shawl,  or  a  Siberian  fur.  When 
the  children  thus  rearing  on  the  hardy  system  are  looked  at  on  the  street, 
their  bo^es  are  observed  to  be  bine,  from  the  congestion  of  the  blood  by 
the  cold';  and  whan  they  get  within  doors  again,  they  rush  pell  mell  to  thQ 
fire»  and  heat  themselves  aa  rapidly  as  they  can.**' — ^p.  128. 

TIm  IbDowing  extract  respecting  deaalmess  shows  how  eleaily 
our  author  percaves  the  tendencies  and  ramifications  of  a  subject, 
eren  in  its  ddicate  and  remote^  but  acftive  bearings,  where  coarser 
minds  and  less  apefined  feelings  can  discover  not.  the  semblance  of 
fm  ol^eot. 

.  *'  Next  to  a  tac  upon  food,  the  most  injurious  to  the  public  health,  and 
iflofpolitior  tn  a  inancial  view,  is  the  tax  upon  soap.  If  the  evil  effects  of 
filtii  npon  health  be  acknowledged,  the  pernicious  effects  of  this  tax  musk 
be  evident.  The  poor  are  most  exposed  to  filth  in  tiie  different  trades  and 
^eeapitions  to  which  they  must  submit  for  a  livelihood ;  and,  whilst  thef 
wti$pm  a  moeh  latter  proportion  of  this  chief  agent  of  deanliness,  tbey 
«ie  least  able  to  afford  it.  The  tax,  therefore,  presses  unfairly  npon  the 
fWDr,  compared  with  the  rich.  Besides,  if  dirtiness  itself  do  not  directly 
eraate  diseaae,  we  know  tiiere  is  noliiing  so  powerful  in  aggravating  and 
extending  it  If  typhus  fever  break  out  amongst  the  poor,  and  if  we  de« 
-pvtfm  tiMem  fji  the  means  of  cleaning  the  infected  clothes  and  apartment, 
beany  snipriseat  the  disease  extending  ?  When  Qovemmeni; 

LL  S 


4G4  KUgour'9  nerapeuiici  and  Hfgii^. 

therefore,  reduced  the  datiea  upon  dmgs,  and  made  physic  <}tie«p  to  1h0 
poor,  instead  of  taking  the  whole  duty  off  the  soap,  and  giving  them  tkt 
means  of  cleanliness,  it  was,  what  is  called  in  homely  phrMe, '  putting  die 
cart  before  the  horse.'  Some  advance,  to  be  sure,  is  made  even  in  tiiia 
way,  but  it  is  a  matter  of  regret  that  the  financial  state  of  this  ooimtry  ia 
such,  that  we  roust  throw  away  so  much  power  in  order  to  make  even  tht 
smallest  progress  forwards. 

"  But  this  tax,  whilst  it  brings  a  sum  to  the  pablic  treasury,  is  still  im- 
politic, in  so  far  as  that,  if  it  were  removed,  the  public  income  from  other 
taxable  articles,  not  at  present  osed  but  by  the  rich  few,  would  be  mudi 
increased.  There  is  a  luxury  of  the  external  person  as  well  as  of  the  in- 
ternal stomach.  Give  a  man  the  luxury  (since  it  seems  to  be  so)  of  a  deea 
shirt,  and  he  will-iikewise  desire  a  new  coat,  and  perhaps  a  gold  pin  and  a 
watch,  in  order  to  give  him  a  finish.  Let  a  man  have  a  free  command  of 
necessaries,  and  he  will  soon  find  out  and  covet  luxuries.  When  he  is 
clean,  the  object  which  he  will  next  strive  for,  will  be  to  be  gaody :  or, 
at  any  rate,  if  he  has  the  strong  sense  not  to  mind  fiishion.  if  he  does  not 
consume  exciseable  luxuries,  the  cleanliness  of  person  gives  a  cones- 
ponding  purity  to  his  moral  faculties.  He  is  not  only  a  healthy,  hot  a 
good  man.  What  prisoner  was  ever  reformed  by  tlie  squalor  car  carts  ?  In 
the  dirt  and  filth  of  a  jail  he  loses  first  all  respect  for  himself,  and  then  for 
lus  fellow  men*  He  becomes  callous  and  hardened.  Two  of  the  moat 
useful  additiouH,  iti  modern  jails,  are  the  scissors  and  the  pump.  They  ate 
far  superior,  in  reforming  the  prisoner,  to  fetters,  filth,  and  vermin.  Let 
the  prisoner  have  also  good,  but  plun,  and  rather  spare  food,  and  let  him 
have  plenty  of  hard  labour.  Let  his  punishment  not  be  at  the  expense  of 
his  own  health,  and  probably  at  that  of  others.  Lay  the  punishment  not 
on  his  body,  but  on  his  mind.  Keep  him  clean,  spare,  and  exercised,  but 
inflict  upon  him  that  pain  which  can  affect  him  only — that  punishment 
which  is  more  unbearable  than  the  deprivation  of  any  bodily  necessary, 
though  not  so  injurious  to  the  health-deprive  his  mind  of  the  necessary  of 
aocidl  intercourse.  Keep  him  in  solitary  confinement,  or  withont  the 
power  of  interchanging  sentiment  or  idea  with  his  fellows." — ^pp.  14d — 5. 

The  lecture  on  climate  we  must  not  meddle  with,  tar  our  Hmita 
are  nearly  outrun.  That  on  exercise  presents  the  most  beneivdent 
and  ardent  sentiments  in  behalf  of  the  young,  from  which  we  select 
a  paragraph.  Motion,  as  a  healthful  agent,  is  the  point  refierred  to 
in  the  extract. 

"  The  importance  of  motion  to  health  is  shewn  in  the  very  constmction 
of  the  body.  When  the  brain  is  not  receiving  the  motion  of  the  hlood, 
the  lungs,  that  of  the  heart  and  diaphragm,  then  there  is  an  end  of  think- 
ing and  living.  Lorry  has  therefore  properly  said,  that  exercise  is  not  ad- 
vised by  nature,  but  commanded ;  i^e  has  given  almost  the  whole  mass 
which  covers  the  bones  for  motion, -and  made  it  capable  of  mu^  moie 
powerful  motion  than  that  which  she  herself  keeps  a*going.  Her'e  an 
the  finer  and  steadier  movements,  but  she  demands  in  os  an  aooompaiii- 
ment  of  the  coarser  and  stronger  ones.  Broussais,  alter  alluding  -to  in- 
stinct, as  leading  imperiously  to  motion  amongst  sJl  animals,  places  exer- 
cise as  a  passion  affecting  the  young  of  the  human  race.  Chcyne,  speak- 
ing of  the  exercise  of  the  young,  gives  us  a  good  remark  when  he  says: 
'.  Tis  4>eautiful  to  observe  thi^  earnest  desire  planted  by  nofurs  to  Ihs 


KUffour^s  I%erapeUtiei  and  HygHne,  465 

g^img  penone,  to  ron^,  jwnfip^  wrestle^  and  run,  and  constantly  to  be  pur- 
suing exercises  and  bodily  diversions  that  require  labour,  even  till  they 
are  ready  to  drop  down,  especially  the  healthier  sort  of  them,  so  that  sit- 
ting or  being  con/in^cf  seems  to  be  the  greatest  |mnMAmen<  they  can  suf- 
fer ;  and  imprisoning  them  for  some  time  will  much  more  readOy  correct 
them  than  widpping*  This  is  a  wise  contrivance  of  nature,  for  thereby 
their  joints  are  rendered |9&'a6/6  and  strong,  their  blood  continues  sweet  and 
proper  for  a  full  circulation  \  their  perspiration  is  free,  and  their  organs 
stretched  out  by  due  degrees  to  their  proper  extension.'  Meditate  on  this, 
ye  mothers,  whose  poor  girb  can  scarcely  walk,  much  less  ran  and  romp ; 
and  who  procure  for  them  crooked  backs  and  pale  cheeks.  Meditate  on 
it,  ye  parents  who  send  your  daughters  to  &shionable  boarding-schools,  in 
order  that,  in  acquiring  art,  they  may  lose  nature ;  and  ye  who  are  looking 
out  for  wives,  say,  will  you  take  this  deceptive  creature  with  her  pale 
cheeks,  and  fetid  breath,  and  distorted  body — the  victim  of  her  mother 
and  fsshion-^-or  her  who  comes  bounding  down  the  hill-sids  to  your  arms, 
with  her  ringlets  streaming  in  the  wind,  her  face  with  the  freshness  and 
glow  of  health,  her  body  in  the  luxuriance  and  freedom  of  unchecked  and 
oncontrolled  nature,  and  her  kiss  sweeter  than 

'  Sabean  odours  firom  the  spicy  shore 
Of  Araby  the  blest/  "—pp.  200—202. 

The  remaining  lectures  are  on  digestion,  foods,  drinks,  and 
the  secretions.  For  the  author  states,  that  although  the  secretions 
-are  not  the  agents  of  health,  but  the  effiscts  of  it,  yet  they  are 
likewise  the  signs  of  health  or  disease,  and  as  some  of  them  can  be 
acted  upon  so  as  to  cause  or  remove  disease,  he  has  thought  it 
proper  to  add  a  lecture  on  the  subject.  But  we  must  return  to  one 
or  two  points  discussed  previous  to  those  embraced  in  the  last 
lecture;  and  as  we  have  in  our  lifetime  listened  to  a  good  deal  of 
mawkish  sentiment  on  the  question  whether  man  is  a  herbioorous 
or  camtporovs  animal,  we  shall  quote  Dr.  Kilgour's  decision  re- 
garding the  dispute,  which  is  certainly  consonant  with  common 
sense.  If  man  were  denied  the  ose  of  all  animal  food,  on  the  sup- 
posed ground  that  it  was  a  cruel  and  sinful  usurpation  of  power 
over  the  inferior  animals,  never  permitted  us  by  the  authority  of 
our  Creator,  we  do  not  see  where  the  consequences  would  end.  For 
we  learn  that  every  vegetable  we  devour,  and  even  every  drop  of 
water  we  drink,  teem  with  animal  life.  But  listen  to  the  author  on 
the  question,  and  also  respecting  the  comparative  value  of  animal 
and  vegetable  food. 

'  *'  The  dispute  has  been  settled  by  shewing  that  he  is  neither  one  nor 
other  exclusively,  but  that  his  proper  food  is  a  mixture  of  both.  One 
author  thinks  he  has  discovered  the  proportion,  which,  according  to  him,  is 
twenty  parts  of  the  oae  to  twelve  of  the  other.  The  dispute  has  been 
aettled  by  anatomists  shewing  that  the  teeth  and  the  motions  of  the  lower 
jaw  of  the  human  species  resemble  in  part  those  of  the  herbivorous  and 
those  of  the  carnivorous  animals ;  and  that  his  intestinal  canal  is  in  length 
between  that  of  those  two  classes. 

"  Not  a  little  has  been  likewise   said  on  Uie  comparative  value  of 
animal  and  vegetable  food.     It  has  been  affirmed,  that  the  former  being 


4C6  Kiigour'g  Tkerapeuim  MMd  H$gUne. 

neareet  in  oomposi^on  to  our  own  bodte,  ought  to  ^  tha  hmft  ftda|iMi  t9 
hb.  Disputftnts  in  this  matter,  «»  well  M  «li  4faa<MiMU,  mroM  tovie  mtmA 
much  trouble  to  themselves,  if  they  hid  mareiy  alattd  the  feet  aa  thsy  aaar 
k.  They  would  huve  io^n  that  Ihc  Hindoo  cannot,  and  doaa  «dt»  eat 
flesh,  be^oae  it  ia  ta  him  atimBlatiag  and  heating,  Mid  of  etiaBokia  atti 
heat  he  gets  enough  ftom  his  wann  aun^  They  would  hmf^  aean,  again, 
that  the  watery  cooling  vegetables  are  not  adapted  hut  northern  natioaa, 
because  they  tire  already  leucopblegraatic,  atid  cool  enough.  They  wouli 
have  lastly  seen*  tliat  nations  in  the  temperate  zones  take  both  in  n  pK^por- 
tion  according  to  the  climate  atid  season  of  the  year/* — p.  230. 

Speaking  of  drinks,  the  author's  doctrine  accords  with  well  known 
facts,  that  liquids  are  more  necessary  to  the  system  than  food ; 
which  is  to  he  expected  from  the  circumstance  that  there  is  no 
store  for  the  fluids  in  the  system,  whilst  there  is  a  large  con.iumpt 
by  the  different  secretions.  But  we  have  the  fat  in  the  cellular 
membrane  to  supply  food  for  a  time.  Here  is  ^ometliing  worthy 
the  attention  of  thirsty  souls. 

"  Water  is  the  only  proper  diluent,  and  the  only  liquid  proper  to  iqf^pease 
thirst.  It  should  contain  as  few  foreign  mattera  as  possible.  Distilled 
water  is  tlie  purest,  bat  it  has  a  faded  attd  vapid  taste^  from  not  containing 
air.  By  exposure  to  the  atmosphere  it  absorbs  air,  and  wore  especially 
fixed  air  or  carbonic  aeid  gas^  and  loses  tlie  va{)id  taste.  BoUed  water  has 
the  same  taste  as  distilled  water.  The  hard  waters,  or  tliose  containioi^ 
some  of  the  earthy  salts,  are  by  no  means  injurious  to  the  health,  unless 
these  exist  in  them  to  a  very  large  extent,  when  they  are  supposed  by  some 
to  lay  the  foundation  for  stone  in  the  bladder.  Water  c<»ntaining  any 
animal  or  vegetable  substances  in  a  state  of  decomposition,  is  unfit  for 
drink,  Unht  water  i»  very  pure^  at  any  rate,  such  of  it  as  is  c<Aected  m 
an  open  country^  and  after  the  rain  has  poured  down  lor  some  hours— -the 
first  fall  of  rain  containing  any  impuritiee  that  itvay  hav<e  collected  in  tibe 
air.  Spring  water  is  by  far  the  best  for  dnnk,  wlien  «ot  ooDtainiag  madk 
earthy  salts ;  then  well  water  which  is  raised  froBi  a  dUcioiis  attatum ;  «4 
lastly,  rt'vfr  water  which  runs  over  a  rook|r  bedr  Watav  when  ookU  or 
when  warm,  removes  thirst  better  than  when  merely  lepidr  and  water 
which  is  only  slightly  or  sensibly  cold,  refreshes  much  better  than  water 
which  has  been  cooled  very  far  down.  Water  drinkers  are,  in  geaeral, 
long  livers,  are  less  subject  to  decay  of  the  faculties,  have  better  teeth» 
more  regular  appetites,  and  less  acrid  evacuations,  than  those  who  indulge 
in  a  inoie  stimulating  diluent  for  their  common  drink.** — ^p.  32&. 
*  **The  mere  satisfying  of  the  thirst  should  be  allowed  to  ^very  patient, 
and  for  that  purpose  water  will  be  the  best  adapted  in  almost  all  cases. 
Practitioners  are  much  questioned  by  friends  as  to  the  drink  to  be  given  ; 
and  these  friends  have  a  great  miwiUingnesa  to  allow  cM  diifato,  espe- 
cially eeld  water,  to  patients.  -This  is  a  great  mistake.  Where  ooM 
water  is  desired,  let  the  patient  have  it,  for  cold  water  is  as  good  a  vefii* 
gerant  as  can  be  given.  The  juices  are  sometimes  added  to  water.  Tkis^ 
make  the  drink  more  agreeable  to  the  palate,  but  as  to  the  tempeiatiirs  it 
is  the  same  as  cold  water*  The  friends  give  this  drink  to  the  patient  be* 
cause  they  consider  it  medicated.  Dr.  Saunders  states  it  as  c<MTespoiidnig 
with  his  experience,  that  tepid  water  is  often  of  great  advantage  in  wesk 
and  delicate  stomachs  that  are  unable  to  digest  the  food  prc^ietlyr 
especially  in  those  subject  to  heartburn." — pp.  332,  333. 


Tr0¥i  and  Mmon  FiMng  t\i  Walet.  487 

b«re  dose  Dr.  Kilgour's  able  and  useful  volume^  persOaded 
that  every  one,  be  he  a  professional  or  unprofessional  person^  will 
derive  important  instruction  fix)m  its  perusal,  and  entertainment  at 
the  same  time*  For  had  this  latter  feature  been  that  which  we 
were  most  studious  to  exhibit,  we  could  easily  have  extracted  suf*- 
ficient  to  amuse  our  readers  £>r  one  full  hour.  We  consider  this 
cheerfid  style  a  great  recommendation  to  a  work  for  general 
readers ;  nor  do  we  doubt  that  this  which  is  now  before  us  will 
become  a  family  as  well  as  a  professional  standard  authority.  Its 
moderate  size  and  price  are  also  fair  themes  of  praise  and  recom- 
mendation, in  those  days,  when  knowledge  is  sought  after  by  cheap 
means  and  short  cuts^ 


Art.  III. —  Trout  and  Salmon  Fishing  in   Waies,     By  GeoJigb  Agar 
Hansard.  12mo.  pp.  223.     London:  Longman  &  Co.  1834. 

There  is  not  a  more  distinct  and  characteristic  class  of  men  in  the 
nation,  than  that  of  anglers  ;  they  are,  exciting  in  external  garb^ 
as  much  so  as  qnakers.  We  mean  not  every  one  that  wields  a 
rod,  but  such  as  can  for  days  together,  without  satiety,  far  from  the 
busy  haunts  of  men,  pursue  this  pastime  with  eagerness,  discern- 
ment, and  joy ;  who  thinks  the  ^^  longest  summer  day  too,  too 
much  in  haste,"  whether  he  has  filled  his  pannier  or  not,  whilst 
with  all  the  fancy  of  an  erratic  spirit,  he  follows  the  meandering  or 
mountain  stream,  cultivating  acquaintance  with  the  finny  tribes^ 
and  all  the  silent  monitors  of  the  valley  or  ujdands.  Such  a  man 
is  not  only  an  artist,  a  naturalist,  and  a  poet,  but  enthusiastically  in 
love  with  simplicity,  purity,  and  peace.  His  very  acquaintance 
with  the  element  in  which  ne  finds  his  pastime,  and  hi^  intinuusy 
with  the  adjacent  perfect  beauties  of  unsullied  nature,  cannot  exist 
without  a  corresponding  character  being  established  in  his  heart. 
Nay,  he  who  has  not  first  a  taste  and  love  for  these  objects,  can 
never  become  what  we  understand  by  the  de&imation,  angler.  It 
cannot  therefore  seem  strange  that  the  class  should  be  so  distinct 
and  characteristically  dehneated  as  we  have  declared.  Accordingly, 
it  is  the  fact,  that  brothers  of  the  rod  and  line  never  meet,  but, 
though  formerly  perfect  strangers  to  each  other,  in  five  minutes  they 
are  acquainted^  and  up  to  the  elbows  in  friendship ;  their  kindrea 
ta«tes  have  met  in  one  close  embrace,  and  though  seated  in  the 
dingy  nook  of  some  noisy  city,  they  are  in  spirit  ofi^  and  away 
among  the  wild  paradises  of  nature.  It  matters  not  what  theme 
occupy  their  converse ;  the  same  sympathies  and  fraternal  virtues 
distinguish  them,  whilst  their  sympatliies  are  all  of  the  gentlest 
but  intensest  kind,  and  their  virtues  of  the  noiseless  order.  Show 
us  a  brawler,  a  misanthrope,  or  a  puppy,  and  we  show  you  where 
an  angler  is  not  to  be  found.  But  tell  us  of  one  whose  temper  is 
warm  or  amiable,  and'  whose  manners  are  unsophisticated  or  un- 


46S  Ttiiut  and  Salmon  Fi$hing  m  Waleg,- 

obtrofiive^  and  there  is  a  presumption  that  he  dther  does  or  wotfU 
belong  to  the  gentle  art. 

We  have  not  a  better  way  of  proving  all  this«  than  by  the  pub-^ 
lications  that  are  devoted  to  anglings  of  which  there  has  been  a 
number  within  these  few  months.  Were  we  to  go  back  some  cen- 
turies and  a)llect  every  such  treatise^  we  sho^  find  the  same 
prevailing  features  in  the  sentiments  of  them  all^— great  earnestness, 
ardour,  simplicity ,  and  purity.  Many  of  the  lessons  attempted  to 
be  taught,  are  for  practical  purposes  in  the  **  silent  trade,"  good 
for  nothing ;  because  it  is  more  a  fine,  than  a  mechanical  art.  But 
wherever  the  writer  shows  himself  a  true  man  of  the  rod,  which  is 
at  once  easily  detected,  his  whole  heart  and  character  seem  to  be 
before  the  reader,  and  the  book  becomes  delightfiil  on  account 
of  its  clearly  defined  character,  independent  of  the  value  of  that 
character. 

The  little  volume  before  us  is  the  production  of  a  true  artist,  and 
for  practical  instruction  surpasses  most  of  those  which  we  hare 
lately  perused.  The  truth  is,  he  ia  an  experienced  angler,  whichii 
often  not  the  case  with  those  who  possess  all  the  natural  requisites 
of  the  characteristic  order.  His  history  of  the  salmon,  the  monarch 
of  the  flood,  and  of  the  other  species  of  fresh  water  fish,  is  clear, 
succinct,  and  correct,  as  to  all  the  ascertained  points  of  their  nature. 
The  seasons  to  be  chosen  by  the  sportsman,  the  manner  in  which 
they  are  to  be  wiled  and  caught,  and  the  form  of  the  tackle,  are 
shortly  and  well  detailed.  The  kind  of  flies  that  ought  to  be  imi- 
tated, the  manner  of  imitating  them  by  artificial  dressing,  are  also 
as  simply,  shortly,  and  intelligibly  described,  as  we  have  ever  found 
in  any  book,  although  there  is  very  little  originality  in  the  matter. 
But  what  to  us  would  be  the  most  useful  part  of  the  volume  is  the 
description  of  the  most  celebrated  angling  stations  in  North  and 
South  Wales.  Another  strong  recommendation  of  Mr.  George  Agar 
Hansard's  manual  is  to  be  found  in  the  copious  extracts  introdueed 
from  an  old  quaint  writer,  so  far  back  as  1656,  who  from  every 
sentence  he  utters  must  have  come  up  to  our  beau  ideal  of  a  tme 
man  of  the  rod.  whether  his  genius  or  his  experience  be  considered. 
Old  Francks'  work  is  exceedingly  scarce  ;  we  shall  therefore  avail 
ourselves  of  several  parts  of  it,  as  quoted  by  our  author.  He  has 
indeed  made  use  of  the  said  ancient  authority  to  iiimiBh  a  motto  to 
his  Trout  and  Salmon  Fishing,  which  we  will  also  employ,  to  be- 
speak and  engender  a  proper  relish  in  each  of  our  readers,  for  what 
follows  : — "  I  call,"  says  old  Francks,  **  a  river  enriched  with  in- 
babitanto,  where  rocks  are  landlords,  and  trouts  tenants.  For 
here's  not  a  stream,  but  is  furnished  with  trouts ;  I  have  angled 
them  from  stem  to  stem;  and  dragged  them  forth,  brace  aftor 
brace,  with  nothing  but  a  hackle,  or  an  artificial  fly  adapted  to  the 
season,  and  proportioned  to  the  life.  Humour  but  tiie  fish,  andyea 
have  his  life,  and  that's  as  much  as  you  can  promise  yourself.  Uh  I 
the  diversion  I  have  had  in  these  solitary  streams !  believe  iae. 


Ttout  and  Salmon  Fi$h$ng  in  Wales.  469 

Thei>|AiIuB^  it  surpasses  report.  I  remember  on  a  time^  when  the 
douds  let  fell  some  extravagant  drops,  which  in  a  manner  dis- 
coloured the  face  of  the  water ;  then  it  was  among  these  stony 
cisterns,  a  little  above  that  trembling  stream,  I  have  struck  ana 
killed  many  a  brace  of  brave  trouts ;  a  reward  beyond  my  labour 
and  expense!" 

But  to  begin  with  the  salmon  which  aflfect  rather  a  cold  climate, 
and  are  particularly  abundant  on  the  shores  and  in  the  rivers  of 
Scotland,  Ireland,  and  Wales,  it  ma^  be  said  that  their  instincts 
are  the  most  wonderful  of  all  the  migratory  species  known  to  us. 
For  instance,  some  time  before  they  shed  their  spawn  they  betake 
themselves,  about  the  month  of  August,  to  the  rivers,  and  thence  to 
the  tributary  small  streams,  where  they  often  remain  in  such  shal- 
lows, as  hardly  to  liave  their  upper  dorsal  fin  covered  with  water. 
By  this  time  their  appearance  has  become  bad,  and  their  flesh  is 
exceedingly  unwholesome.  Their  next  process  we  shall  now  give  in 
the  words  of  Francks,  who  must  have  been  a  good  naturalist  as  well 
as  angler. 

"  '  One  time  on  a  sunshiny  day,  in  these  limpid  and  transparent  streams 
of  Hay,  I  was  constrained,  in  regard  of  the  excessive  heat,  to  relinqaish 
her  inflamed  sandy  shores,  and  seek  umbrage  (where  I  could  get  it)  from  some 
shady  trees,  but  none  I  found  there  to  harbour  and  relieve  me.  However, 
by  this  time  I  recovered  a  meadow  which  generously  commoded  me  with 
a . hawthorn  bush,  that  nature  had  planted  by  the  river  side,  which  served 
me  for  a  sanctuary,  whose  dilating  boughs,  spreading  as  an  umbrella,  de- 
fended me  from  the  scorching  rays  of  the  sun ;  where  also  I  lay  dose  con- 
cealed, the  better  to  inspect  nature's  curiosities.  For  whilst  reposing 
ih3rself  under  this  tifikny  shade  of  diversified  leaves  and  flourishing  twigs 
that  hovered  over  the  banks  of  this  amorous  Ilay,  on  a  sudden  I  dis- 
covered avery  large  salmon  leisurely  swimming  towards  the  leeward  shore ; 
and  having  considered  the  sun  at  his  meridian,  I  thought  it  needless  to 
provoke  her  with  a  fly,  or  any  thing  else„  more  especially  at  such  a  time 
when  1  knew  her  indisposed  to  divert  herself  either  with  food  or  frolic. 
When,  note,  the  more  circumspectly  I  traced  her  with  my  eye  to  pursue 
her,  the  more  and  greater  still  was  my  admiration,  because  to  mark  her 
from  place  to  plaee,  till  at  last  I  saw  her  arrive  on  a  bed  of  sand,  which 
acarcely,  to  my  apprehension,  covered  her  with  water ;  for  I  am  confident 
it  exceeded  not  the  depth  of  one  foot ;  where  with  her  tail  she  wriggled  to 
and  fro,  so  long  and  oft,  till  I  visibly  discovered  a  flat  slaty  bluidh  stone, 
over  which  she  oft-times  contracted  her  body ;  nature  provoking  her  to 
eject  her  belly,  which  at  last  she  accomplished,  to  my  surprising  amaze- 
ment :  but  this  was  not  all ;  for  as  soon  as  that  project  was  performed  by 
the  female  with  most  accurate  swiftness,  she  launched  herSelf  forth  into  the 
more  solid  deeps ;  which  was  no  sooner  performed,  when  as  suddenly 
I  recovered  the  view  of  another,  as  afterwards  h  ill  appear  by  the  following 
circumstances:  for  out  of  that  solitary  and  profound  depth  of  water, 
wherein  the  female  had  concealed  herself,  there  sprung  up  a  male,  or 
something  Hke  him,  that  swam  directly,  as  if  haled  with  a  cord,  to  that 
very  place  where  that  former  fish  had  ejected  her  belly  (but  some  call  it 
•pawn),  and  there  performed  such  an  admirable  office  as  you  will  hardly 


470  Trout  and  StJmon  FMh^im  99Uiff. 

betieye,  diougk  f  tell  yon  the  tratb.  The  fiemal^  aa  I  tcdd  you,  hM 
her  belly  upon  a  large  and  slaty  bluish  stone;  iind  the  nude,  as  if  by 
instinct  to  perforin  his  office,  dilates  his  fins  and  flutters  about,  tiU  at  last 
he  directs  himself  over  the  ejected  matter ;  where*  with  his  nose,  as  I  then 
apprehended  (though  I  will  not  warrant  fish  to  have  a  scent),  rooted  as  a 
swine,  or  something  like  it,  yet  were  the  waters  at  that  time  undisturbed ; 
when  on  a  sudden,  and  with  a  violent  motion  of  body,  he  throws  himself 
about,  invading  the  calms  with  a  strong  ebullition,  as  if  some  ponderous 
stone  had  struck  the  surface  :  but  it  was  not  long  ere  I  saw  him  again, 
though,  for  the  present,  he  seemed  to  me  invisible.  And  then  my  obser- 
vation led  me  curiously  to  observe  him  direct  his  head  to  the  former  place, 
and  contract  himself  after  the  same  manner  which  the  other  fish  had  for- 
merly done.  This  I  visibly  and  plainly  saw ;  which  together  with  his 
active  and  exerting  motion,  a  spermatic  whiteness  of  a  milky  subotance 
issued  from  him,  not  unlike  to  jellied  cream  ;  all  which  remarks  I  signally 
notified,  and  by  all  the  circumstances  my  judgment  could  direct  to»  I  coa> 
eluded  him  the  milter,  because  tiiere  to  shed  and  scatter  his  milt  upon  the 
ejected  forementioned  belly.  Having  thus  discharged  himself  with  some 
little  labour,  and  as  little  trouble,  he  suddenly  recovers  again  the  depth  of 
the  water  with  most  accurate  swiftness ;  nor  have  I  often  seen  a  more 
violent  motion,  whose  absence  in  a  trice  invites  the  female  fish,  and  she  no 
sooner  returns  to  the  place,  dictated  beyond  doubt  by  the  mediums  of 
nature,  works  a  trough  like  a  cistern  in  sand  or  gravdL,  and  as  near  as  I 
could  guess  of  her  own  proportion  ;  into  which  trough  with  nothing  save 
the  spring  of  her  tail,  she  jumbles  and  tumbles  in  the  prima  materia :  so 
gently  she  covered  it  over  with  sand,  and  then  left  it  to  the  great  lami- 
naries  for  vivification  and  the  seminals,  because  having  a  prolific  virtue  and 
life  quality  innated  in  them.  Life  inevitably  shines  forth  after  certain 
days,  accidents  omitted ;  because  the  lustre  of  life  is  a  thing  so  sacied, 
that  the  Lubeck  of  conspiracy  strikes  to  blot  it  out.  Thus  much,  therefore, 
as  relates  to  the  progeny  of  salmon,  t,  being  an  eye-witness,  do  bohfly 
tiestify  and  as  boldly  divulge,  if  seeing  be  a  good  basis  for  any  man's 
behef .'  "—pp.  3—6. 

About  the  month  of  April  immediately  following^  the  aun  vivifies 
the  spawn,  and  the  young  fry  grow  surprisingly  fast.  They  next  hiUTj 
witli  the  floods  of  May  to  the  sea,  but  oootinue  on  its  cooSMxes  as 
soon  as  they  reach  brackish  water,  for  some  time>  probably  to  pie- 
pare  themselves  for  the  new  element  they  are  about  to  inhabit^  and 
it  is  generally  believed  by  experienced  anglers  that  the  same  £sh 
return  at  the  clbse  of  the  summer,  as  gilses,  to  the  same  rivers  which 
they  left  in  May,  and  that  upon  their  next  return  at  the  same 
period,  after  having  a  second  time  migrated  to  the  sea,  they  are 
perfect  salmon.  Salmon  have  been  taken  in  Scotland  of  fifty^ 
sixty,  and  even  nearly  seventy  pounds'  weight.  Salmon  delight  m 
rivers  chiefly  that  have  a  pebbly  bottom,  where  there  are  large 
stones  or  slight  excavatic^s  beneath  protruding  rocks,  dear  froin 
every  kind  of  slime.  They  dislike  however  to  be  shaded,  unless  in 
the  height  of  sununer  heat.  They  perceive  the  approach  of  ft 
change  of  weather  with  amazing  acuteness,  and  seem  to  be^aflected 
by  every  concussion  of  the  air.   ^Bjjt  the  most  striking  of  their 


Ira*/  tmd  JEUmom  tlMiM  in  Wales.  47 1 


kibki  is  Vtmr  mode  of  asoedding  rirers^  abd  wbea  they  are  inter- 
eq)tod  by  rocks ;  fbr  they  resort  aoet  to  such  as  have  alpine 
soiiroes.  Their  mode  of  vaulting  over  bold  obstacles  is  particu-- 
krly  cnrioue.  Take  for  example  a  fall  of  the  Keith  in  Perth- 
shire. 

'*  Hmt  rock  is  about  1 3  feet  high,  and  the  whole  river,  which  is  a  very 
considerable  one,  bursts  through  a  cleft  of  only  a  few  feet  in  breadth. 
From  a  long  continuance  of  dry  weather,  and  consequently  when  there  is 
little  water  in  the  river,  these  fish  lie  in  the  pools  and  holes  immediately 
below  this  cascade.  It  is  at  that  time  an  amusing  sight  to  survey  them 
from  the  banks  above,  all  regularly  disposed  tire  above  tire,  resting  upon 
their  fins,  and  waiting  with  anxious  and  eager  expectation  for  a  coming 
flood,  to  assist  them  in  their  passage  upwards.  When  this  happens,  they 
then  all  prepare  to  take  the  leap.  In  their  first  efforts  they  sometimes  fail, 
and  tumble  down  stupified ;  but  undismayed,  and  with  an  unn.mitting  ar- 
dour, renew  their  attempts,  until  they  prevail  in  gaining  the  summit  of  this 
fearful  gap.  On  the  river  Liffy,  in  Ireland,  there  is  a  cataract  about  19 
xect  high  ;  here,  in  the  salmon  season,  many  of  the  inhabitants  amuse 
themselves  in  observing  the  fish  spring  up  the  torrent.  They  frequently 
fall  back  many  times  before  they  surmount  it ;  and  baskets  made  of  twigs 
are  placed  near  the  edge  of  the  stream  to  catch  them  in  their  fall.  At  the 
falls  of  Kilmorack  in  Scotland,  where  the  salmon  are  very  numerous,  it  is  a 
common  practice  with  the  country  people  to  lay  branches  of  trees  on  the 
edges  of  the  rocks  :  by  this  means  they  sometimes  catch  such  of  the  fish  as 
miss  their  leap,  which  the  foaming  of  the  torrent  not  unfrequently  causes 
them  to  do  :  and  the  late  Lord  Lovat,  who  often  visited  these  fallxs,  taking 
the  hint  from  this  circumstaace,  formed  a  determination  to  try  a  whimsical 
experiment  on  the  same  principle.  Alongside  one  of  the  falls  he  ordered  a 
kettle  full  of  water  to  be  placed  over  a  fire  ;  and  many  minutes  had  not 
elapsed  before  a  large  salmon,  making  a  false  leap,  fell  into  it.  This  may 
seem  incredible  to  persons  who  never  saw  one  of  those  rude  salmon  leaps  i 
but  surely  there  is  as  great  a  chance  of  a  fish  falling  into  a  kettle  as 
OB  any  given  part  of  the  a(^acent  rock,  and  it  is  a  circumstance  that  would 
certainly  take  place  many  times  in  the  course  of  a  season,  were  but  the  ex- 
periment tried*'' — pp.  12,  18. 

It  is  a  vulgar  enror  long  in  vogue  to  say  that  in  the  leap  the  sal* 
mon  has  its  tail  ia  its  teethe  although  it  is  much  curved ; 

"  And  bending  like  a  bow. 
That's  to  the  compass  drawn,  aloft  himself  doth  throw.** 

We,  as  anglers,  wonder  what  our  author  was  thinking  of,  when 
he  says.  ^^  salmon  fry  may  be  caught  by  the  same  means  as  sam- 
kts.*'  Whoever  wilfully  destroys  such  trifling  fish,  that  otherwise 
would  become  lordly  salmon,  belongs  not  to  our  craft,  because  he  has 
something  of  the  greed  of  a  robb^,  and  the  bloodthirstiness  of  a 
murderer. 

Concerning  the  princely  trout  our  author  communicates  a  number 
of  well  considered  facts,  which  proves  him  to  be  versant  with  its 
l»bits,  its  varieties,  and  abodes.  He  justly  coincides  with  the 
general  opinion,  that  it  is  fat  when  other  fish  are  thin,  and  vice 
^efsa,  so  that  in  winter,  the  flesh  is  white  and  of  a  bad  flavour,  but 


472  Tnmt  and  Stdtmm  FkUn^  m  WOu. 

in  summer  red  and  good.  He  properly  adds  that  tfaifi  diflbrence  in 
colour  does  not  entirelji  depend  on  the  seasons,  having  himsdf 
taken  trout  both  of  the  red  and  white  kind,  in  the  same  month  in 
two  contiguous  streams,  one  of  which  invariably  produces  the  red, 
the  other  the  white ;  these  two  streams  are  the  Rheidol,  and  the 
Istwith  in  Cardiganshire.  But  let  us  hear  what  the  ancient  Francks 
has  to  say  of  this  beautiful  fish. 

"  '  But  as  I  intend  not  to  burden  you  with  circumlocutions,  for  brevity's 
sake  I  shall  range  the  trout  under  the  consideration  of  the  first  classes  of 
fish.  For  that  end»  I  must  signalise  his  vivacity  and  vigour,  his  activity 
and  courage,  how  natural  they  spring  from  the  nature  of  this  fish,  till  age 
or  accident  indispose  and  deprive  him,  not  only  of  activity  but  of  natural 
ability,  who  struggles  with  himself  to  outdo  motion,  and  outlive  if  possible 
the  law  of  his  life.  So  that  to  prohibit  him  travel,  you  totally  destroy 
him  ;  since  he  is  a  fish  that  cannot  live  under  confinement,  and  thus  it 
happens  to  the  race  of  salmon,  for  nature's  laws  are  alike  to  both.  In  the 
summer's  solstice  he  accosts  the  fords,  making  inspection  and  inquisition, 
after  the  variety  of  emmets  and  insects  ;  hovering  his  fins  in  every  mur- 
muring purling  stream,  in  river,  and  rivulets,  which  not  only  puts  a  spur 
to  the  angler's  exercise,  but  his  expectations  also :  and  this,  if  any  thing, 
is  the  angler's  £l3rsium,  which  I  shall  not  insist  upon  here,  because  having 
enlarged  upon  it  sufficiently  already.  In  this  place  I  shall  only  treat  dt 
the  ground  bait,  which  most  commonly  is  a  knotted  or  budded  dew 
worm,  much  of  the  nature  and  kind  of  the  former,  but  not  usually  so 
large  as  we  procure  for  the  salmon. 

•<  '  Now,  as  every  angler  concludes  the  trout  to  be  a  delicate  fish  for  di- 
version, so  others,  as  artists,  consult  him  as  a  delicious  entertainment. 
But  the  trout  to  entertain  himself,  as  eagerly  sucks  in  a  well  scoured  red 
worm,  as  the  wide  mouthed  Hnmber  swallows  up  a  full  spring  tide.  For 
that  end,  grudge  him  not  what  he  loves,  and  give  him  time  to  digest  iL 
Your  business  is  only  to  stand  sentinel,  and  to  keep  a  vigilant  eye  and  a 
diligent  hand  over  him  ;  for  patience  is  not  only  an  exercise,  but  an  exoel« 
lence  in  anglers,  provided  they  fall  not  asleep  at  their  vocation,  especially 
when  angling  or  trolling  with  the  ground  bait ;  which,  upon  biobate, 
proves  most  profitable,  after  gluts  of  rain  and  discoloured  waters ;  nor  is 
this  ground  bait,  otherwise  than  a  worm,  variously  discoursed  by  me 
at  several  times,  and  in  sundry  places.  For  that  end  (to  avoid  repeti* 
tions)  where  the  worm  fails  of  success,  make  trial  of  the  minnow,  in 
sharps  and  scours,  by  dragging  at  the  bottom  or  in  mid  water;  which,  if 
performed  (with  the  swivel),  by  the  hand  of  an  artist,  he  shall  seldom,  or 
rarely  fail  of  success. 

*< '  But  for  the  fly  fishing,  if  that  be  the  artists's  intention,  let  me 
soberly  advise. him  to  solicit  rr.oderate  winds,  rather  than  intemperate  and 
violent  gusts.  Rally  my  reasons  and  sum  them  up;  you  will  find  them 
more  copious  in  my  former  conference,  where  at  large  I  'discourse  and 
decipher  both  the  shape,  colour,  and  the  proportion  of  flies ;  for  I  h^fai 
tautologies,  because  hateful  in  themselves,  and  there  is  nothing  moire 
troublesome  to  an  ingenious  artist,  tlian  to  be  glutted  by  telling  a  story 
twice :  the  trout  therefore,  judiciously  considered,  his  month  is  not  by 
much  so  large  as  the  salmon's,  nor  requires  be  so  copious  n<Mr  so  huge  a 
hook,  nor  need  his  tackle  be  so  robust  or  strong.    But  for  the  rod  and 


JVoMt  tmd  Salmon  Fuhing  in  Wales,  473 

line,  take  care  that  they  in  all  respects  be  exactly  tapered ;  and  to  hit  the 
mark  as  near  as  may  be,  let  care  be  taken  that  the  line  in  every  part  be 
equally  stretched,  and  the  steel  of  your  hook  of  an  even  temper ;  nor  mat- 
ters it  how  light  you  are  armed  at  the  hook,  so  that,  when  you  flourish 
your  fly  on  tbe  Surface,  be  sure  that  you  gain  the  head  of  the  stream,  and, 
if  possible,  the  wind  to  facilitate  your  cast.  But  if  the  ground  bidt  be 
your  exercise,  then  let  the  length  of  your  line  seldom  or  rarely  exceed  the 
rule  of  your  rod,  whilst  the  fly  diversion  grants  a  larger  charter.  Distance 
and  dimension  also  come  under  the  consideration  of  every  artist  that  is 
mindful  to  measure  exact  proportion,  by  concealing  himself  from  the 
streams  he  sports  in  ;  so  that,  if  at  any  time  the  fly  fails  of  success,  as  fre- 
quently it  has  happened  to  myself  and  others,  let  the  angler  then  have  re- 
course to  the  ash-tree  grub,  the  palmer  worm,  caterpillar,  green  or  gray 
drake,  the  depinged  grasshopper,  or  that  truculent  insect,  the  green  mun- 
ket  of  the  owlder  tree.  But  if  none  of  these  baits  presented  succeed  to 
profit,  and  the  water,  as  we  apprehend,  remain  discoloured,  let  him  then 
assault  the  trout  at  the  bottom,  with  that  mutual  allurement  which  I  call 
the  gilt  tail ;  for  that  of  all  worms  allures  him  ashore. 

**  *  The  generous  trout,  to  make  the  angler  sport. 
In  deep  and  rapid  streams  will  oft  resort. 
Where  if  you  flourish  but  a  fly,  from  thence 
You  hail  a  captive,  but  of  fish  the  prince.*" — ^pp.227 — 230. 

The  grayling  is  not  a  plentiful  fiah  in  England^  though  it  breeds 
in  such  waters  as  the  trout  afiects.  In  Switzerland  it  is  accoonted 
the  choicest  of  all  fish.     The  curious  Francks  tells  as  :— 

'*  *  Smooth  and  swift  streams,  more  than  any  thing,  enamour  him,  not- 
withstanding he  declines  the  force  of  a  torrent :  nor  shall  you  persuade 
him  to  quarrel  with  the  gliding  streams,  provided  they  be  sweet,  clear,  and 
shiniDg.  It  is  from  these  clear  translucid  waters  that  the  hackle  and  the 
artificial  fly  court  him  ashore.  But  of  all  natural  insects  which  accom- 
modate the  art,  the  green  drake  is  that  sovereign  opthalmic  that  opens  his 
eyes,  and  shuts  them  again,  with  the  hazard  of  his  life,  and  loss  of  his 
element.  Yet  for  this  fly  admirer,  there  is  another  bait,  and  that  is  the 
munket,  or  a  sea-green  grub,  generated,  as  I  take  it,  amongst  owlder 
trees.  The  like  product  issues  from  the  willows,  so  does  it  from  the 
sallow,  nor  is  the  primp  fence  denied  this  vegetable  animal,  save  only  they 
are  different  in  splendour  and  colour^  as  also  as  difierent  in  shape  and  pro- 
portion. Take  tben  this  insect  from  the  alder  tree,  to  refute  the  hypothesis 
of  the  incredulous  angler ;  which,  if  ingeniously  cultivated  by  the  art  of 
sngling,  will  upon  proof  of  a  well  managed  examination,  invite  umber  or 
g;rayling  from  the  top,  or  mid  water,  to  kiss  your  hand,  or  VVL  break  my 
rod  and  disclaim  the  art.  Well  then,  as  we  consider  the  umber  not  over 
curious  of  deeps,  we  must  consider  him  also,  not  over  curious  of  shallows, 
contenting  himself  with  a  middle  fate  that  directs  him  to  the  smoothest 
and  stiffest  streams,  dedicating  and  devoting  himself  to  motion,  because  a 
great  admirer  of  peregrination ;  and  though  not  so  generally  understood 
as  the  troiut  is,  yet,  give  me  leave  to  tell  you,  if  yoii  fish  him  finely,  he  will 
keep  you  company  either  in  Clwyd  Or  Conway,  or  in  the  glittering  silver 
streams  of  Wy€.  Pray,  therefore,  when  yon  fish,  fish  him  finely,  for  he 
loves  curiosity,  neat  and  slender  tackle  ;  and,  lady-like,  you  must  touch 
Vii»  gently, — for  to  speak  plain  English,  he  is  tender  about  the  chops,-^ 


474  Trout  and  Sal/non  Fishing  in  Wales^ 

otherwise  perchance  you  defeat  yourself,  and  so  lose  your  desigii.  A 
brandlin,  if  any  thing,  will  entice  him  from  the  bottom;  but  the  gilt  tail,  of 
all  worms,  if  upon  change  of  Tvater,  wiU  invite  him  ashore,  though  it  cost 
him  his  life ! 

"  *  Umber  or  grayling  in  the  streams  he'll  lie, 
Hovering  his  fins  at  every  silly  fly  ; 
Fond  of  a  feather ;  you  shall  see  him  rise 
At  emmets,  insets,  hackles,  drakes,  and  fiie8%*" — pp.  32, 32. 

After  another  long  extract  from  the  same  quaint  and  observant 
writer  on  the  rules  for  trout-fishing,  we  must  at  present  take  leave 

of  the  gentle  art. 

"  '  And  now,  Theophilus,  I  must  reprove  your  precipitancy,  because  a 
great  error  in  young  anglers.  Be  mindful,  therefore,  to  observe  directioiks 
in  handling  and  managing  your  rod  and  line,  and  cautiously  keeping  yourself 
out  of  sight :  all  which  precautions  are  requisite  accomplishments,  which, 
of  necessity,  ought  to  be  understood  by  every  ingenious  angler ;  and  so  ii 
that  secret  of  striking,  which  should  nei'er  be  used  with  violence ;  because, 
by  a  moderate  touch,  and  a  slender  proportion  of  strength,  the  artist,  fnr  the 
most  part,  has  best  success.  Another  caution  you  must  take  along  with 
you  ;  I  mean,  when  you  observe  your  game  to  make  an  out, — that  is.  when 
he  bolts,  or  when  he  lanncheth  himself  to  the  utmost  extCbt  of  your  rod 
and  line — which  a  well-fed  fish  at  all  times  frequently  attempts  upon  the 
least  advantage  he  gains  of  the  angler;  be  mindful,  therefore,  to  throw 
him  line  enough,  if  provided  you  purpose  to  see  his  destruction ;  yet  with 
this  cautiou,  that  you  be  not  too  liberal.  On  the.  other  hand,  too  straight 
a  line  brings  equal  hazard ;  so  that  to  poise  your  fish  and  your  foresight 
together,  is  by  keeping  one  eye  at  the  point  of  your  rod.  and  the  other  be 
sure  you  direct  on  your  game ;  which  comes  nearest  the  mediums  of  art» 
and  the  rules  and  rudiments  of  your  precedent  directions.  But  this  great 
round  may  be  easily  solved ;  for  if,  when  you  discover  your  fish  fa§r  his 
fins,  you  may  rationally  conclude  he  then  struggles  witli  death :  and  then  is 
your  time  to  trifle  him  ashore  on  sowe  smooth  shelf  of  sand,  where  you  may 
boldly  land  him,  before  his  scales  encounter  the  soil. 

*'  *  Lest  precipitancy  spoil  sport,  FU  preponder  my  rudiments ;  and  they 
prognosticate  here's  a  fish,  or  something  like  it,  a  fair  hansel  for  a  foolish 
fisher.  This  capering^  for  aught  I  know,  may  cost  him  his  Tife,  foe  I 
resolve  to  hold  his  nose  to  the  grindstone :  dance  on  and  die,  that  is  the 
way  to  your  silent  sepulchre ;  for  upon  that  silty,  gravelly  shelf  of  sand 
I  resolve  to  land  hiuL,  or  lose  all  I  have.  And  now  I  hncj  him  weary  of 
life,  as  aged  people  that  are  burdened  with  infirmities  ;  yet  I  want  courage 
to  encounter  him,  lest  fearing  to  lose  him,  which  if  I  do,  I  impair  my  re- 
putation. However,  here  is  nobody  but  trees  to  reprove  me.  except  these 
rocks,  and  they  will  tell  no  tales.  Well,  then,  as  he  wants  no  a^llty  to 
evade  me,  I'll  endeavour  with  activity  to  approach  him :  so  that  the  dif- 
ference between  us  will  be  only  this — he  covets  acquaintance  with  bu| 
one  element,  and  I  would  compel  him  to  examine  another.  Now  he  runs* 
to  divert  me,  or  himself;  but  I  must  invite  him  nearer  home,  for  I  fancy  no 
such  distance.  Though  his  fins  fag,  his  tail  riggles,  his  strength  dedinesi 
his  gills  look  languid,  and  his  mettle  decreaseth, — all  which  interpret 
tokens  of  submission;  still  tbe  best  news  I  bring  him  is  summons  of  death. 
Yet  let'  not  my  rashness  pre*engage  me  to  the  loss  of  my  game ;  for  t9 


Sayrce  of  the  MksissippL  47S 

select  my  fudiments  is  ta  ruin  niy  design,  ^htch,  in'  ])l«iu  terms,  is  the 
destruction  of  this  resolute  fish ;  who  seemingly  now  measures  and  mingles 
his  proj)ortion  with  more  than  one  element,  and,  doomed  to  a  trance,  he 
prostrates  himself  on  the  surface  of  the  calms,  dead  to  apprehension,  save 
only  I  want  credit  to  believe  him  dead,  when  calling  to  mind  my  former 
precipitancy,  that  invited  me  to  a  loss  :  and  so  may  this  adventure  prove, 
if  I  look  not  well  about  me,  to  land  and  stiund  him  on  that  shelf  of  sand, 
where  I  resolve  with  my  rod  to  survey  his  dimensions.  Welcome  ^ashore, 
my  languishing  combatant,  if  only  to  enterttdn  my  friend  Arnoldus/  "— ^ 
pp.42— 44. 

We  are  aware  it  may  be  objected  to  our  favourite  pastime,  that, 
|mlliate,  polish,  and  throw  around  it  the  attractions  of  taste  and 
imagination  as  you  will,  still  it  is  a  cruel  occupation.  We  fear,  if 
every  employment  or  pastime  in  which  cruelty  may  be  brought  home 
to  us  were  banished,  few  should  be  our  occupations  and  fewer  still 
our  earthly  enjoyments.  Nay,  so  habituated  are  we  to  many  actions 
in  which  the  destruction  of  auimal  life  takes  place,  that  we  have 
lost  all  sensibility  of  the  fact,  and  overlook  the  truth,  which  surely 
can  never  be  urged  as  an  excuse,  or  as  any  tenderness  to  the  suffering 
creatures.  We  therefore  take  a  difierent  method  of  defending  our 
favourite  pastime,  than  that  of  comparison  with  other  modes  of  de- 
stroying and  tormenting,  and  advance  as  a  fact,  which  cannot  be 
controverted,  that  angling  has  quite  an  opposite  tendency  than  that 
of  hardening  or  blunting  the  moral  sensibilities.  This  is  partly  no 
doubt  owing  to  the  rural  accompaniments  alluded  to  at  the  begin- 
ning of  this  article  ;  but  we  think  independently  there  are  mental 
{>rocesses  called  into  action  by  the  practice  of  the  gentle  art,  not  a 
ittle  conducive  to  the  culture  of  our  minds.  The  very  word  gentle 
has  been  given  from  the  cause  we  allude  to ;  for  angling  requires  a 
delicacy  of  action,  and  a  precision  of  observation,  that  cannot  but 
afibct  other  habits,  and  that  cannot  but  he  carried  into  higher 
exercise. 

To  those  who  may  ask.  How  can  such,  a  monotonous  and  senseless 
occupation,  as  Dr.  Johnson  represented  angling  to  be,  have  such 
'mighty  consequences  ?  we  answer,  that  it  is  not  monotonous,  as  is 
proved  by  those  who  eagerly  pursue  it  for  days  and  weeks  to- 
gether, and  always  with  increasing  ardour ;  and  as  to  its  un- 
meaning character,  let  it  be  remembered  that  dexterity  is  amply 
called  for  in  angling,  and  that  it  matters  not  wherein  we  are  engagea, 
so  far  as  ardour  is  concerned,  provided  there  be  an  absolute  call 
for  ingenuity,  nicety,  studious  observation,  and  the  most  delicate 
dexterity. 


AaT.  IV.—  Narrative  of  an  Ejcpeditiou  through  the  Upper  Mississippi  to 

Itasca  Lake,  the  actual  sourea  of  this  River,    By  Hbnry  R.  Schooi.- 

CKAFT.     8vo.  pp.  807.     O.  Rich,  New  York  :  1834. 

Thb  mind  feels  an  interest  in  the  rise  and  progress  of  a  mighty 

river,  in  some  sort  analogous  to  that  entertained  reqpectiBg  the 


476  Source  of  the  Miotinippi. 

history  of  an  ancient  and  renowned  family.  The  tributary  ^treaniB 
that  assidnously  supply  the  main  channel  which  conveys  them  to 
the  ocean^  suggest  ideas  akin  to  the  fidelity  and  support  shown  by 
collateral  though  distant  relatives.  Or  the  expansive  lake  whidi  is 
fed  by  the  many  and  wonderfiilly  diversified  forms  and  characters  of 
those  tributary  branchos,  meandering  in  every  direction  through 
the  adjacent  parts^  affords  another  oraer  of  resemblances  with  tibe 
conditions  of  human  history,  which  the  mind  not  unpleasantly  con- 
templates— that  lake  which  sends  forth  from  its  capacious  bosom  a 
never-ceasing  flood  on  which  navies  may  ride,  and  by  which  they 
may  penetrate  into  the  heart  of  a  country.  Again,  the  desire  to 
discover  the  main  or  highest  source  of  such  a  river,  as  if  it  were 
the  fountain  and  beginning  of  its  being,  strongly  engages  the  sort  of 
sympathetic  interest  which  must  be  familiar  to  most  people.  What 
Englishman  is  there  who  could  look  tamely,  and  without  some  de- 
gree of  emotion  at  the  source  of  old  Father  Thames  ?  What  Ame- 
rican who,  when  he  gazes  on  any  one  of  the  majestic  rivers  of  that 
continent,  that  does  not  wander  in  imagination  to  its  infiint  form 
and  situation  ?  Above  all,  the  conjectures  or  the  knowledge  re- 
specting the  tribes  of  the  human  family  that  dwell  on  its  banks, 
may  well  lead  the  fancy  to  expatiate  over  a  wide  field  abounding 
with  affecting  and  instructive  matter. 

Accordingly,  we  find  that  the  exploratory  journeys  towards  the 
sources  of  such  blood-vessels  of  the  earth,  so  to  speak,  have  ever  en- 
gaged adventiuK)us  spirits,  and  been  a  theme  for  a  nation's  anxiety. 
It  is  with  a  view  of  gratifying  our  readers  respecting  the  discovery 
of  the  Mississippi,  that  we  now  notice  the  work  before  us.  We  do 
not  find  in  it  much  to  engage  us,  beyond  the  sort  of  interest  which 
such  sympathies  as  have  been  above  alluded  to,  necessarily  confer 
on  facts  connected  with  them.  But  a  short  abridgement  of  ttie 
author's  narrative,  together  with  several  extracts,  must  furnish  these 
&LCta  to  some  extent. 

American  geography,  as  is  properly  stated  by  the  author,  may  be 
said  to  have  had  uiree  important  problems  to  solve  in  modem 
times.  The  first  and  second  of  these  related  to  the  source  of  the 
IH^souri,  and  to  the  course  and  termination  of  the  Columbia.  Both 
'  wece  substantially  resolved  by  the  expedition  of  Lewis  and  Clark, 
under  the;administratr6n  of  Mr.  Jeflerson.  -  The  true  source  of  the 
Mississippi  was  brought  under  discussion  at  the  same  period.  In 
1805,  Lieutenant  Pike,  and  still  farther  in  1820,  Governor  Cass» 
made  considerable  progress  in  this  inquiry.  The  actual  source  of 
the  river  was  however  not  discovered.  But  in  1830,  the  author  was 
directed  to  proceed  into  the  Chippewa  country,  north-west  of  Lake 
Superior,  in  the  execution  of  duties  connected  with  Indian  affiurs. 
His  instructions  were  received  at  a  period  of  the  year,  however,  too 
late  to  do  more  than  provide  means  for  extensive  observation.  A 
physician  and  botanist  were  provided,  and  «  small  detachment  of 
troops  ^ere  abo  ordered  to  form  part  of  the  expedition. 


/ 


Sciarce  of  the  MkiUsip^,  477 

'     This'eimeditidti^  numbering  twenty-seven  persons,  exclusive  of 

Bides  and  Indian  auxiliariesV  employed  on  the  portages,  left  St. 
ary's  at  the  foot  of  Lake  Superior,  late  in  June,  1831 ;  but  the 
low  state  of  the  water  on  the  Upper  Mississippi,  prevented  their 
reaching  the  bands  at  its  sources  during  the  drought  of  summer. 
And  as  public  reasons  were  at  the  same  time  urgent  for  visiting  tbe 
interior  tribes,  located  between  the  group  of  islands  at  the  head  of 
Lake  Superior  and  the  Mississippi,  where  a  useless  and  harassing 
conflict  was  kept  up  between  the  Sioux  and  Chippewa  nations,  the 
expedition  did  not  resume  the  plan  of  visiting  the  source  of  the 
river  till  early  in  1832.  The  party  was  now  organised  with  still 
more  care,  and  was  more  numerous  than  that  of  the  preceding  year. 
On  the  13th  of  July,  they  reached  Itasca  Lake,  the  source  of  the 
Mississippi,  which  is  from  tbe  Gulf  of  Mexico  3,(60  miles,  and  its 
elevation  above  that  level  1,500  feet. 

The  expedition  was  therefore  traversing  parts  that  may  empha- 
tically be  called  the  Lake  Country,  the  number  and  not  unfre- 
qiiently  the  magnitude  of  these  inland  seas,  setting  all  our  insular  and 
and  even  European  notions  at  defiance,  'whether  we  take  them  in 
'  respect  of  their  expanse,  of  the  islands  that  are  found  within  them, 
or  according  to  the  rivers  they  feed.  The  following  is  part  of  the 
author's  account  of  Lake  Superior. 

"  Of  a  body  of  water  so  irregular  in i its  shape  and  imperfectly  defined, 
it  may  be  vague  to  speak  of  its  superficial  area»  but  this  may  be  assumed 
to  cover  30,000  square  miles.  It  embraces  numeroud  islands,  the  largest 
of  which  are  Grand,  Ro^al,  and  ^Magdalen  islands.  It  has  several  small 
harbours,  bays,  and  inlets,  and  receives  numerous  rivers.  It  abounds  wiUi 
fiab»  the  most  noted  of  which  are  white-fish,  sturgeon,  and  salmon  trout. 
But  by  far  the  most  valuable  product  of  its.  present  commerce  is  its  furs 
and  peltries.  The  Indian  population  of  its  immediate  shores  is  not  great. 
Exclusive  of  bands  located  on  the  heads.of  its. rivers,  it  does  not  exceed 
1,006  souls,  to  which  may  be  added  436  for  the  American  side  of  the  St. 
Mary's  river.  Their  trade  is  conducted  by  fifteen  clerks,  licensed  by  the 
Indian  department,  employing  seventy  boatmeUi  interpreters,  and  runners. 
Recently,  a  mission  has^  been  established  on  Magdalen  Island  {^La  Pointe 
of  the  traders),  by  the  American  Board  of  Foreign  Missions,  and  the 
gospel  began  to  be  preached  to  the  natives.  The  estimated  population 
which,  in  a  comprehensive  view,  should  he  added  for  the  south  shores,  ex- 
tending to  the  borders  of  tbe  Winnebago  and  Monomonee  lands,  and  run- 
ning west  to  the  Sioux  line,  is,  for  the  northern  curve  of  Green  Bay,  210 ; 
heads  of  the  Monomonee  and  Wisconsin  rivers,  342 ;  the  Chippewa  river 
and  its  tributaries,  1,376;  the  St.  Croix  and  its  tributaries,  895;  Grand 
Portage  and  B^iny  Lake,  476;  to  which  latter  perhaps  may  be  added,  249, 
making,  with  the  former  estimates,  5,000  souls." — pp.  17,  18. 

The  dawning  of  the  gospel  at  a  dpot  which  the  author  says  has 
been  long  noted  as  a  scene  of  Indian  trade,  and  the  rallying  point 
of  Indian  war  parties,  is  a  cheering  event.  It  is  at  this  place  that 
tradition  places  the  ancient  council  fire  of  the  Chippewa  nation. 
But  he  says  that  the  tribe  offer  no  prominent  obstacles  to  the  in- 

roL.  III.  (1834.)  wo.  iv.  m  m 


478  Scur&e6fthe 

tfodaction  of  Cfaristmnity,  thefirame^work-of  lli^if  r^gioali^g 
bo  slender  as  to  be  made  up  primarily  of  certain  supeirstitiottfl  cor- 
monies  winding  thfemseli^es  about  the  suUect  of  medicincr^ 

The  last  lake  which  was  reached  by  doreHior  Cass  in  1820,  is 
called  aft^  him ;  and  was  therefore  the  utiima  tkvU  of  ptevkms 
diJBCovery.  The  narrative  in  the  present  vohime  assnmefi  a  mote 
'  novel  character  from  that  point.  It  is  to  be  ^emembered  that  the 
expedition  proceeded  up  the  river  in  canoes  in  the  best  way  th^ 
could;  and  not  unfrequently  were  surprised  with  Indiaa  welcome. 
Their  reception  on  an  island  in  Cass  Lake  is  thus  described. 

*'  On  feipproachini^  it,  a  number  of  Indians  were  observed  running  across 
ftn  elevation,  and  pointing,  with  wild  gestures,  to  a  bay  beyond.  It  was 
the  bes^ place  of  landing.  They  were  asMaous  in  directing  the  men  to 
the  spoL  They  rangeSi  themselves  along  the  shore,  fired  a  salute»  aod 
then  came  eagerly  to  ^e  water's  edge,  giving  each  one  a  hand,  as  be 
alighted  from  die  canoe.  He»  who  has  fonned  his  estimate  of  aa  Indian 
from  the  reading  of  books,  in  whieh  he  is  depicted  as  crael  and  saorose, 
without  any  insight  into  his  sodid  character,  need  only  to  be  ushefed  into 
a  scene  like  this,  to  be  convinced  that  he  has  contemplated  an  oveisfaa- 
dowed  picture*  We  found  these  Indians  to  be  frankt  cheerfol,  and  con- 
fiding. 

*'  On  aseending  the  elevation  before  referred  to,  it  was  found  to  be  the 
site  of  an  abandoned  village,  now  covered  partially  with  corn-fields,  and 

•  overgrown,  in  other  parts,  with  sumac  a^d  other  shnibbery.  The  cutting 
down  too  much  of  the  forest,  and  the  cpnsequent  exposure  to  winds,  had 
probably  been  their  reascm  for  removing  the  village  to  a  more  sontheiiy 
and  sheltered  part  of  the  island.  An  Indian  town,  all  America  over,  is 
nothing  bat  an  assemblage  of  wigwams,  built  exclusively  to  suit  the  par- 

^  tiieular  oonvetiieaee  of  tbe  occupant,  witiiout  right  angled  streets,  for  which 
(as  they  have  no  carts  or  waggons)  they  have  no  occasion,  and  they  get 

•  thereby  tbe  additionBl  advaiAi^  of  having  tio  clouds  of  dust  blown  up 
from  the  denuded  surlbce.   There  is  (as  we  should  say)  a  public  tquare^  or 

.  rather,  an  open  grassy  spot,  where  councils  and  dances  are  held,  and  the 
ceremonies  of  die  wabeno  and  medicine  society  perforated.  ffiUocks  and 
elevated  grounds  are  selected  for  erecting  their  lodges  on ;  and  clamps  of 
small  trees  and  shrubs  are  sought.  Laige  trees  are  avoided,  for  the  simple 
reason,  that  they  often  lose  a  limb  daring  windy  weather,  and  are  liable  to 

.  be  blown  down  by  tempests.  But  the  whole  circular  opening,  oonstiluting 
a  town  plat,  is  surrounded  with  forest  to  shelter  them  in  sammer  and 
winter.  Gardens  are  varioudy  located,  and  genendly  without  fences,  as 
there  ;are  no  domesticated  catde." — ^pp.  33,  i34. 

At  this  friendly  station^to  which,  through  the  kind  offices 
guide  Oza  Windib,  the  expedition  had  been  conducted,  aai 
they  organized  a  select  party  to  explain  the  aoimef  the  river, 
the  progress  of  their  arrangements  wore  far  a  ti&|e  interrupted  by  a 
scene  in  no  slight  degree  dramatie. 

"  A  mixed  gronp  of  men,  women,  and  children,  from  the  Indian  village, 
thronged  our  encampment.  Among  them  I  observed  tlie  widow  of  a 
Chippewa  warrior,  who  had  been  killed  some  three  or  four  weeks  pte- 


Simree  of  the  I^$$is$ippi.  47f 

yAons,  m  the  fbrajr  of  ihe  Leech  Lake'  war  party,  in  the  Sioux  coontry. 
She  was  accompanied  by  her  children,  and  appeared  dejected.  I  asked 
one  of  the  Indians  the  place  of  her  residence.  He  replied,  here;  that  her 
husband  was  a  brave  warrior^  and  went,  on  the  call  of  the  Leech  Lake 
chief,  with  a  number  of  yolunteen^  to  join  (he  party,  I  asked  him  of 
what  number  the  party  consisted  ?  He  replied,  about  one  hundred.  Who 
had  led  them  ?  llie  GouUe  Platte.  Where  they  had  met  the  enemy  ? 
South  of  the  head  of  Leaf  river.  What  had  been  the  result  of  the  action  ? 
They  were  victorious,  having  taken  three  scalps  on  the  field,  and  lost  but 
one,  being  the  husband  of  the  widow  referred  to.  The  action  had,  how- 
ever, been  at  long  shots,  with  frequent  changes  of  position,  and  the  enemy 
had  finally  fled  to  a  viUage  for  reinforcement.  The  Chippewas  took  this 
opportunity  to  retreat,  and,  after  consultation,  returned,  bringing  back  the 
three  scalps,  as  memoriids  of  their  prowess.  These  tropldes  had,  we 
learned,  been  exhibited  in  the  customary  dances  at  Leech  Lake,  after 
which  one  of  them  was  forwarded  to  Oca  Windib's  band,  to  undergo  a  like 
ceremony.    And  it  was  finally  presented  to  the  widow. 

*'  It  was  now  exhibited  by  the  young  men  in  her  behalf,  for  a  purpose 
which  was  certainly  new  to  me.  Although  I  knew  that  this  people  were 
ingenions  in  converti&g  most  circumstances,  connected  with  both  fortune 
and  misjfortune,  into  a  means  of  soliciting  alms,  I  had  never  before  seen 
the  scalp  of  an  enemy  employed  as  a  means  of  levelling  contributions. 
Such,  however,  was  the  purpose  for  wUdi  it  was  now  brought  forward 
it  was  exhibited  with  all  tlie  circnntstanoes  of  barbarian  triumph.  Shouts 
and  dancing,  interningled  with  the  sound  of  the  rattle  and  Indian  dram, 
form  the  conspicuous  traits  of  such  a  scene.  Short  harangues,  terminated 
by  a  general  ehout,  fiU  vp  the  pauses  of  the  dance,  and  at  this  moment 
the  drums  cease.  It  was  an  outcry  of  this  kind  that  first  drew  my  atten« 
don  to  a  neighbouring  eminence.  I  observed  some  of  the  simple  bark  en< 
t^osures,  wluch  mark  the  locality  of  a  Chippewa  barial  ground.  Near 
tiiem  was  erected  a  sort  of  triumphal  arch,  consisting  of  bent  and  tied  sap« 
lings^  from  the  arc  formed  by  which,  depended  an  object,  which  was  said 
to  be  the  remuns  of  decaying  scalps.  Around  this,  was  gathered  a  crowd 
cf  dancers,  moving  in  a  circle.  The  fresh  scalp  was  suspended  from  a  rod. 
Every  time  it  waved,  a  new  impulse  seemed  tobegivento  the  shouting.  The 
^dpw  and  her  children  were  present.  And  the  whole  group  of  spectators, 
Canadians  as  wdl  as  Indians,  appeared  to  regard  the  ceremony  with  an 
absorbing  interest,  la  the  brief  pause  which  separated  each  dance^  pre- 
flApti  "were  thrown  in,  and  all  tiiat  was  given  was  deemed  the  property  of 
the  widow.^-'This  was  the  scalp  danGe."'^-f^.  41,  42, 

By  this  expedition  it  has  been  aseeitaiiied  that  none  of  the  maps 
vere  correct  as  to  the  forks  of  the  Mississippi  above  Cass  Lake.  Tm 
ioacconu^  was  so  great  as  to  place,  the  actual  source  of  the  river 
an  entire  degree  south  of  the  BuiqK)9ed  point ;  whilst  above  the 
lalbB  just  now  named  ki  eonseoueDce  of  being  Governor  Cassis 
most  advanced  discovery,  two  forks  are  the  fashion  of  it«  branches. 
We  go  forward  with  the  discoveries  to  nearly  the  point  to  which 
the  expedition  bent  their  way,  where  we  give  the  particulars  in  the 
anthor  8  own  words. 

mm3 


•  480  Sourcf  of  the  MinUsippi. 

"  In  crossing  tiiis  highland,  our  Indian  goide,  Oza  Windib  led  die 
way,  carryinn;  one  of  the  canoes,  as  his  portion  of  the  burden.  The 
others  followed,  some  bearing  canoes,  and  others  baggage.  The  whole 
party  were  arranged  in  Indian  file,  and  marched  rapidly  a  distance — then 
put  down  their  burthens  a  few  moments,  and  again  pressed  forward.  Each 
of  these  stops  is  called  a  pose  by  the  voyageurs,  and  is  denominated 
Opiigidjiwunon,  or  a  place  of  putting  down  the  burthens,  by  the  Indians. 
Thirteen  of  these  rests  are  deemed  the  length  of  the  portage.  The  path 
is  rather  blind,  and  requires  the  precision  of  an  Indian  eye  to  detect  it. 
Even  the  guide  was  sometimes  at  a  loss,  and  went  forward  to  explore. 
We  passed  a  small  lake  occupying  a  vale,  about  midway  of  the  portage, 
in  canoes.  The  route  beyond  it  was  more  obstructed  with  underbush. 
To  avoid  this,  we  waded  through  the  margins  of  a  couple  of  ponds,  near 
which  we  observed  old  camp  poles,  indicating  former  joumies  by  the 
Indians. 

"  The  weather  was  warm  and  not  favourable  to  much  activity  in  bird 
or  beast.  We  saw  one  or  two  species  of  the  falco,  and  the  common  pigeon» 
which  extends  its  migrations  over  the  continent.  Tracks  of  deer  were 
numerous,  but  traveling  without  the  precaution  required  in  hunting,  we 
had  no  opi)ortunity  of  seeing  this  animal  on  the  high  grounds.  It  was 
observed  in  the  valleys  of  the  river,  on  both  branches.  Ripe  straw  berries 
were  brought  to  me,  by  the  men,  at  one  of  the  resting  places.  I  observed 
a  very  diminutive  species  of  the  raspberry,  with  fruit,  on  the  moist  grounds. 
Botanists  would  probably  deem  the  plants  few,  and  destitute  of  much 
interest.  Parasitic  moss  is  very  common  to  the  forest  trees,  and  it  communi- 
cates a  peculiar  aspect  to  the  grey  pine,  which  is  the  prevailing  growth  on 
all  the  elevations. 

"  Every  step  we  made  in  treading  these  sandy  elevations,  seemed  to  in- 
crease the  ardour  with  which  we  were  carried  forward.  The  desire  of 
reaching  the  actual  source  of  a  stream  so  celebrated  as  the  Mississippi — 
a  stream  which  La  Salle  had  reached  the  mouth  of,  a  century  and  a  half 
(lacking  a  year)  before,  was  perhaps  predominant ;  and  we  followed  our 
guide  down  the  sides  of  the  last  elevation,  with  the  expectation  of  mo- 
mentarily reaching  the  goal  of  oor  joomey.  What  had  been  long  aonght 
at  last  appeared  suddenly.  On  turning  out  of  a  thicket,  into  a  small 
weedy  opening,  tlie  cheering  sight  of  a  transparent  body  of  water  borst 
upon  our  view.  It  was  Itasca  Lake — the  source  of  the  Mississippi." — 
pp.  54 — 56. 

Itasca  Lake^  the  Lac  la  Biche  of  the  French,  we  are'  told  is  in 
every  respect  a  beautiful  sheet  of  water,  seven  or  eight  miles  in  ex- 
tent, lying  among  hills  of  diluvial  formation,  surrounded  with  pmetf^ 
which  fringe  the  distant  horizon,  and  form  an  agreeable  contrast 
with  the  greener  foliage  of  its  immediate  shores.  The  waters  are 
transparent  and  bright,  reflecting  the  elm,  lynn,  maple,  and  cherry. 
The  lake  has  a  single  island  ;  and  here  they  found  the  forest  trees 
above  named,  growing  promiscuously  with  the  betula  and  spruce. 
The  bones  of  fish  and  of  tortoise,  found  where  Indian  camp  fires 
had  been,  intimated  the  existence  of  these  in  the  lake.  Other  parts 
yield  small  species  of  the  Unio,  that  were  found  strewing  the  lied  of 


Source  of  the  Miieiseippi.  4S1 

the  outlet^  which  is  about  ten  or  twelve  feet  broad^  with  a  depth  of 
twelve  to  eighteen  inches. 

"  The  Mississippi  river  traverBcs  more  degrees  of  latitude  than  any  other 
river  in  America,  and  the  remark  might,  perhaps,  be  extended  to  the  ha- 
bitable globe.  The  extremes  of  its  changes  in  climate  and  vegetable  pro- 
ductions, are^  consequently,  very  great.  It  occupies  more  than  three 
thousand  miles  of  the  distance  between  the  arctic  circle  and  the  equator. 
Long  as  it  ia,  however,  it  has  a  tributary  longer  than  itself,  (the  Missouri.) 
like  the  Niger,  its  mouth  was  discovered  by  expeditions  down  its  current, 
but  unlike  that  stream,  which  has  so  long  held  the  geographical  world  in 
suspense,  its  sources  have  been  also  sought  from  its  central  parts.  •  Its 
entire  course  is  at  length  known.  And  we  may  now  appeal  with  full 
certainty  to  ^e  Balize  and  to  Itasca  Lake,  as  its  most  extreme  points. 
At  the  latter,  it  is  a  placid  basin  of  tomaparent  spring  water.  At  the 
former^  it  is  as  turbid  as  earth  in  suspension  can  make  it,  and  carries  a 
forest  of  floating  trees  on  its  bosom.  Beiow  the  junction  of  its  primary 
forks,  it  expands  at  very  unequal  distances,  into  eight  sheets  of  clear 
water,  each  of  which  has  features  worthy  of  admiration.  Four  of  these, 
Lac  TraverSf  Cass  Lake,  Winnepec,  and  Lake  Pepin,  are  lakes  of  hand- 
some magnitude,  and  striking  scenery.  The  number  of  its  tributaries  of 
the  first,  and  the  second  and  the  third  class,  is  so  large,  that  it  would 
furnish  a  labour  of  some  research  to  determine  it.  Tlie  Missouri,  the 
Ohio,  and  the  Arkaasas,  are  of  the  noblest  class.  Whoever  has  stood  at 
the  junction  of  these  streams,  as  the  writer  has  done,  must  have  been  im- 
pressed with  an  idea  of  magnitude  and  power,  which  words  are  incapable 
of  conveying.  The  broadest  parts  of  its  channel  lie  in  the  central  portiopa 
of  its  valley.  Its  depth  is  great  in  all  its  lower  parts,  and  increases  as  it 
flows  on  to  the  Gulf,  and  its  general  descent  and  velocity  are  such  as  to 
appear  very  striking  characteristics.  Noble  views  arrest  the  eye  of  the 
observer,  in  every  part  of  its  diversified  course.  Originating  in  a  heavy 
and  extensive  bed  of  diluvial  soil,  superimposed  upon  primitive  strata,  it 
soon  wears  its  channel  down  to  the  latter,  and  after  running  over  them 
for  seveval  hundred  miles,  plunges  at  length,  at  the  Falls  of  St.  Anthony, 
over  the  carboniferous  limestone  formation,  which  is  so  prevalent  and  so 
valuable  for  its  mineral  deposites,  below  that  point,  lliis  is  finally  suc- 
ceeded by  diluvial  and  alluvial  banks,  the  latter  of  which  are  semi-annu- 
ally enriched  by  fresh  deposits,  and  exhibit  a  delta  as  broad,  and  as  ex- 
uberant as  the  Nile.  Like  the  latter,  it  has  its  cataracts  in  the  Falls  of  6t. 
Anthony  and  Pukiagama,  and  in  numerous  lesser  leaps  and  cascades, 
where  its  current  is  tossed  into  foam,  and  threatens  destruction  to  the  na- 
vigation. Such  are  its  physical  traits,  and  these  enough  in  their  charac- 
ter, magnitude,  and  variety,  to  lead  our  contemplations  irresistibly 
through  nature  up  to  nature's  God.* " — ^pp,  59,  60. 

Ere  leaving  the  lake  that  is  the  source  of  this  mighty  river,  the 
explorers  testified  the  gratification  of  their  curiosity  by  leaving  a 
memorial  of  their  visit.  This  was  a  small  flag  erected  at  the 
head  of  the  island  already  spoken  of.  They  also  took  some 
specimens  of  the  objects  they  there  found  of  natural  productions, 
and  thence  descended  in  their  canoes  hurled  frequently  along  by  a 
'series  of  rapids  that  were  dangerous.     They  at  length  regained 


4§2  Source  o/iii  Mismsifpi, 


Lake^  which  is  estimated  by  the  author  to  be  ooe  hnndrejttrf 
eighty  miles  below  the  Itasca.  Here  they  spent  a  Sabbath ;  awil 
the  following  interesting  paragraphs  make  us  feel  deeply  in  behalf 
of  the  poor  Indians'  of  that  island,  who  were  such  ardent  dancers  in 
celebration  of  the  triumph  coniiected  with  the  scalp,  as  before  de- 
scribed. It  is  gratifying  to  find  the  author  taking  such  a  concern 
in  the  ivogress  of  missions  as  those  pages  testify.  Our  readerB 
will  be  pleased  to  see  that  the  chaplain  of  the  es^edition  may  pso- 
bably  add  his  observations  on  the  same  subject. 

"The  day  being  the  Sabbath,  the  Reverend  Mr.  Boutwell  devoted  a  part 
of  it,  as  he  had  done  on  the  previous  Sabbaths  of  our  route,  in  giving  refi- 
gioas  instruction.  As  three  of  the  soldiers  of  the  party  were  Chmtians, 
and  two  of  onr  canoemen  could  sing  Indian  hymns,  singing  both  in  En- 
glish amd  in  Indian  became  practicable,  Mr.  Johnson's  readiness  in  Scrip- 
ture translation,  put  it  in  the  power  of  Mr.  B.  to  address  them  en  the  lead- 
ing doctrines  of  the  Gospel.  With  what  effects  these  exhortations  were 
listened  to,  on  this,  as  on  other  occasions,  cannot  be  fully  stated.  Strict 
attention  appeared  to  be-paid  by  the  Insane,  during  these  little  forest 
meetings,  which  were  generally  held  under  some  spreading  trse,  or  on  tlie 
grassy  area  of  some  sheltered  glade,  contiguous  to  the  camp.  Incredulity 
and  bold  cavilings,  were  more  observable,  I  think,  at  the  most  remote 
points  of  onr  route,  and  most  interest  manifested  in  the  subject,  in  the 
villages  situated  nearest  the  frontier  posts.  Whatever  were  the  results, 
it  is  to  be  hoped  that  no  circumstances  will  prevent  Mr.  B.  from  commu- 
nicating his  observations  to  the  Christian  pubhc,  at  an  early  period. 

•*  The  field  for  missionary  labour,  in  all  the  region  north-west  of  St.Mary'a 
and  Michilimackinac,  is  certainly  a  very  extensive  and  important  one.  And 
the  incitements  to  its  occupancy,  at  the  present  era,  may  be  said  to  be  de- 
eideifiy  greater  than  they  have  been  at  any  time  since  tb«  discovery  of 
tiie  country.  No  very  strong  barriers  appear  to  stand  in  the  way  of  the 
introduction  of  Christianity  among  the  northern  tribes.  Their  institu- 
tions, moral  and  political,  are  so  fragile,  as  to  be  ready  to  tumble  on  the 
application  of  the  slightest  power.  They  are  not  worshippers  of  t^e  sun 
or  the  moon.  They  have  no  list  of  imaginary  gods,  of  the  horrid  character 
which  belong  to  the  idolatrous  nations  of  Asia  and  Africa.  A  Hindoo  wor- 
shipper would  hardly  be  able  to  impose  his  tale  of  multiform  incamatioiis, 
and  transmigratory  existence,  upon  their  belief.  And  a  votary  of  Juggrr^ 
naut  would  verily  be  looked  on  by  them  as  little  better  than  a  madman. 
It  is  not,  however  to  be  inferred,  that  because  these  gross  forms  of  icMft- 
try  do  not  exist,  they  have  no  idolatry  at  all.  Their  mediehmm  Is  notluiig 
more  or  less  than  a  species  of  idolatry.  They  impute  supernaturid  powers 
to  certain  material  substances,  which  are  preserved  and  gaarded  wi^  reli* 
gious  care.  These  objects,  which  are  often  taken  from  the  mineral  king- 
dom, are  carried  about  in  sacksi  and  are  appealed  to  under  every  faroL  of 
solemnity,  to  perform  cures,  and  to  grant  dehrerances,  which  would  re- 
quire. B  miracle.  Their  lesser  monedog,  of  which  the  number  is  endless,  are 
expected  to  operate  through  these  idol-medicines.  And  although  they 
do  not  bow  down  to  them,  nor  appear  to  place  an  implicit  con£dence  in 
them,  they  remain  in  a  state  of  mental  alarm,  uhich  often  impels  them  to 
resort  to  their  influence.  Nothing  is  more  common,  however,  on  con- 
versing with  them,  than  to  find  individuals,  who  are  ready  to  acknowledge 


dHiiiwiifiei«Bcy  of  tboie  siHWifl,  wid  who  appear  to  be  prepared  to  almifr 
don  tbeni)  aiid  ^mbvaef  the  doctria^  of  the  Saviour,  th^  moment  the  49Mr. 
of  popular  opiaioD  aoong  their  ownpeopie  can  be  removed.  No  dead  |nan 
has  been  deified  bjr  them ;  and  (hey  have  not  a  name  or  word  in  their 
language,  ao  far  as  known^  whicl;  represents  a  god,  but  that  of  **  Monedo." 
This  word,  I  am  inclined  to  think,  is  Itself  a  derivative  from  one  of  1;b9 
forms  of  the  active  verb,  Momo,  to  take.  But,  like  other  Chippewa  verbs,* 
it  is  so  buried  and  clogged  with  adjuncts,  in  the  nature  of  prefix  and  siifiHx, 
that  it  might  often  require,  ft  ChampoHion  to  decipher  it.  — pp.  67 — 69. 

We  bere  dose  our  notice  of  this  volume  and  our  extracts  from 
it.  The  author,  besides  his  narrative,  appends  lectures  on  some  of 
th^  principles  and  peculiarities  of  the  Chippewa  language^which  ore 
not  the  least  valuable  p^ges  of  the  work  ;  but  we  cannot  more  par- 
ticukgrly  refer  to  them*  The  lists  (^specimens  belonging  to  natural 
history,  discovered  in  the  .course  of  the  expedition,  and  the  of- 
ficial reports  also  appended,  fair  not  under  our  present  purpose, 
though  we  doubt  pot  these  portions  of  the  volume  add  nmph 
to  the  character  of  the  work  in  the  eyes  of  his  own  countrymea  and  ' 
government. 

Art.  V. 
I. — 7%e  AilanHc  Club-book.    By  Various  Authors.   Two  Vols.  am.  8yo. 

London :  O.  Rich,  1834. 
H.. — T<^  ond  Sketches — such  as  they  are.       By  Wiluam"  L,  Stqhj$» 

Two  Vols.  am.  8vo. ,  London :  O.  Rich,  1834. 

Thi  Clab*book  is  a  ctHiqpiUtioQ  of  prose  ^d  po0tie  piebe^  &m9 
the  New  York  A|inror,  a  periodical  said  to  jiie  very  popular  in 
America.  Besides  a  number  of  native  writi^e,  ure  find  that  Faimy . 
Kenible  hc(s  been  an  occasional  contributor  to  that  journal,  iot 
several  of  her  poems  are  inserted  in  thi^  ooUeeKlpn.  This  circum- 
stance lends  it,  in  our  eye,  an  additioni^l  interest,  ^d  indeed  inti- 
mate ^t  the  jpi^ma]  in  which  ^hey  ^rs|  appe^Jred  \»  worthy  of 
her  countenance.  lJut  th§  object  we  have  partiQularly  jin  view  i»  ' 
t4>  i»acertain  ^I^at  {nay  he  the  rank  whi<?ix  oiii:  trftnsi^tjaatic  brejtbren 
a|»  enticed  to  claim  in  the  ligbteir  d^partniQnta  Qf  liteeatur^i 

The  compiler  declares,  that  so  numerous  and  so  eau^etfent  w^are 
the  contributions  from  which  he  had  to  choose,  that  he|?^peri^nced 
the  grea^eet  difficfulty  ijqi  m^kipg  a  ^dectipn  which  should  Q[>mbin^ 
literary  merit  ynftx  the  variety  necessary  (;o  s^istain  a  dm  inter^t 
t^ughout.  )[le,  therefi>re,  evidently  entertain^  a  very  high ; 
opinion  of  this  collection.  Indeed,  he  says  it  may  be  followed  by 
another  firom  a  similar  source.  We  must  also  presume  that  he  has 
extracted  the  best  specimens  to  be  found  in  the  New  York  Mirror, 
which  he  says  contains  so  many  excellent  pieces.  Are  we  not, 
then,  entitled  to  consider  this  compilation  as  presenting  a  favour- 
able specimen  of  American  literature  in  that  department,  where 
popular  authors,  as  it  were,  disport  thcgnselves,  by  throwing  off. 


484      The  Ailantic  Club-Book.^lhie9  mufShelche^^-tuch  as  /%  tare. 

without  fear,  and  in  their  happier  momeftte,  tlie  feelings  and  fim* 
eies  that  please  themselves  particularly  ?  If^  then,  this  be  a  iiyr 
mode  of  measuring  such  works,  we  must  say,  that  however  much 
the  Club-book  may  be  admired  in  America,  it  stands  a  poor  chance 
of  being  thought  of  in  England,  especially  during  our  harvest  of 
Annuals.  The  pieces,  taken  individually,  are  not  above  medio- 
crity, whilst,  as  respects  variety,  there  is  a  remarkable  deficiency, 
when  the  number  of  contributors  are  considered,  and  the  field 
which  the  new  world  presents  for  descriptions  and  tales.  Indeed, 
the  many  writers  whose  names  are  here  introduced  along  with 
their  papers,  and  who  are  declared  by  the  compiler  to  be  popular 
in  his  country,  show  themselves  unequal  to  what  thousands  of 
unnamed  scribblers  can  do  in  England  in  the  small  way,  as  may 
be  proved  by  our  periodical  and  cheap  publications,  in  numberless 
instances. 

But  the  standard  by  which  we  are  inclined  chiefly  to  estimate 
the  merits  of  the  Atlantic  Club-book  is,  not  by  taking  it  compara- 
tively, but  as  that  which  we  are  entitled  to  expect  from  the  field 
open  to  writers  in  that  country.  Not  to  speak  of  scenery,  we 
should  have  most  striking  delineations  of  character,  as  it  is  there 
exhibiting  itself,  influenced  by  a  new  order  of  things  in  a  young 
world.  We  do  not  hope  to  And  so  much  of  the  softening,  rounding, 
and  polish  which  the  efforts  of  somewhat  worn-out  communities 
present,  but  we  look  for  original  and  characteristic  pictures  and 
sentiments,  racy,  fresh,  bold  and  descriptive.  We  look  not  for 
copies  of  what  is  passable  or  good  in  Old  England,  but  for  what  is 
great  and  new  in  mighty  America.  It  is  possible,  however,  that 
those  who  can  handle  heavy  metal  cannot  dexterously  take  hold  of 
limber  weapons — that  when  they  wish  to  be  playful,  they  trifle,  and 
to  be  simple,  that  they  are  tame.  At  the  same  time,  though,  as 
compared  with  similar  collections  in  this  country,  or  with  what  we 
should  have  expected  from  a  young  nation,  in  which  there  are  not 
only  immense  mines  of  rich  ore  to  be  explored  and  appropriated, 
but  able  miners,  the  Club-book  presents  nothing  particularly  va- 
luable, yet  we  find  no  difBculty  in  laying  our  finger  upon  pieoes 
possessed  of  considerable  merit,  and  some  charact^istic  featares. 
llie  following  extracts  present  favourable  specimens ;  and  yet 
the  very  firs|t  we  notice  is  by  Miss  Kemble.  It  is  on  autumn, 
written  after  a  ride  by  the  Sdmylkill,  in  October.  The  ccmtrast 
between  the  t^pearance  of  the  country  in  which  she  sojourned 
and  her  native  land,  has  the  pensive  loveliness  of  the  season  she 
addresses. 

"  Thou  comest  not  in  sober  guise, 
In  mellow  cloak  of  russet  clad — 
Thine  are  no  melancholy  skies. 

Nor  hueless  flowers,  pale  and  sad ; 
But|  like  an  emperor,  triumphing, 
With  gorgeous  robes  of  lYrian  dyes. 


Tie  Athntk  CM- Book.— TaleB  and  Sketches^tuch  at  they  are.      486 

Fbll  Hush  of  fragrant  blossoming, 
And  glowing  pnrple  canopies. 

Oh!  not  upon  thy  fading  fields  and  fells 

In  such  rich  garb  doth  autumn  come  to  thee. 
My  home!  but  o'er  thy  mountains  and  thy  dells 

His  footsteps  fall  slowly  and  solemnly. 
Nor  flower  nor  bud  remaineth  there  to  him. 

Save  the  faint  breathing  rose,  that,  round  the  year. 
In  crimson  buds  and  pale  soft  blossoms  dim. 

In  lowly  beauty  constantly  doth  wear. 
O'er  yellow  stubble  lands  in  mantle  brown 

He  wanders  through  the  wan  October  light : 
Still  as  lie  goeth,  slowly  stripping  down 

The  garlands  green  that  were  the  spring's  del^ht. 
At  mom  and  eve  thin  silver  vapours  rise 

Around  his  path :  but  sometimes  at  mid-day 
He  looks  along  the  hills  with  gentle  eyes. 

That  make  the  sallow  woods  and  fields  seem  gay. 
Yet  something  of  sad  sovereignty  he  hath — 

A  sceptre  crown'd  with  berries  ruby  red, 
And  the  cold  sobbing  wind  bestrews  his  path 

With  wither'd  leaves,  that  rustle  'neath  his  tread ; 
And  round  him  still,  in  melancholy  state. 

Sweet  solemn  thoughts  of  death  and  of  decay. 
In  slow  and  hush'd  attendance  ever  wait. 

Telling  how  all  things  fair  must  pass  away." — ^vol.  i.  pp.  ^Q,  67« 

In  Sketches  from  the  Springs^  by  George  P.  M orris,  we  have 
sentiments  connected  with  tne  pride  of  ancestry,  which  are  interest- 
ing to  us  as  coming  from  that  quarter  of  the  globe. 

"  That '  no  American  would  wish  to  trace  his  ancestry  further  back  than 
the  revolutionary  war,'  is  a  good  sentiment.  I  admire  and  will  stand  by 
it.  Yet,  while  I  disapprove,  most  heartily,  of  the  conceited  airs  and 
flimsy  pretensions  which  certain  little  people  arrogate  to  themselves  on 
account  of  their  birth-right,  I  cannot  subscribe  to  one  particle  of  the  cant 
I  am  in  the  habit  of  hearing  expressed  on  these  subjects.  It  is  not  *  the 
same  thing/  to  me,  at  least,  whether  my  father  was  a  count  or  a  ooal- 
heaver,  a  prince  or  a  pickpocket.  I  would  have  all  my  relations,  past, 
present,  and  to  come,  good  and  respectable  people,  and  should  prefer  the . 
blood  of  the  Howards  to  that  of  the  convicts  of  Botany-bay — ^nor  do  I 
believe  I  am  at  all  singular  in  these  particulars.  It  is  nothing  more  than 
a  natural  feeling.  Sdll  I  would  not  think  ill  of  a  man  on  account  of 
any  misfortune  that  may  have  attended  his  birth,  nor  well  of  a  man  simply 
because  he  happened  to  be  cradled  in  the  lap  of  affluence  and  power. 
The  first  may  be  one  of  nature's  noblemen,  and  the  other  a  poor  dog, 
notwithstanding  all  his  splendour ;  and  that  this  frequently  happens,  every 
day's  experience  affords  us  abundant  testimony.  That  the  claims  of  all  to 
distinction  should  rest  upon  one's  own  individual  talents,  deportment,  and 
character, '  is  also  sound  doctrine,  and  cannot  be  disputed :  yet  this  is  no 
reason  why  we  should  not  have  an  honest  and  becoming  pride  in  the 
genius,  integrity,  or  gallant  bearing  of  those  from  whom  we  sprung. 
Now,  yonder  stands  a  gentlemen,  who,  in  my  humble  judgment,  caniiot 


but  iadolge  a  secret  flaw  of  iatiffactio^,  whUf  ccmteM^iitiilg  tlie  loots  cihk 
family  tree.  He  came  from  a  good  vtodc^^Tbe  old  Dutch  settlers  of  New- 
Amsterdam— than  which  no  blood  that  flows  in  tbe  human  veio9  is  either 
purer,  better  or  braver.  His  forefathers  were  epunently  coaspicuous  as 
Christians,  soldiers,  and  sages ;  they  ocpupied  the  hig^  places  of  honour 
and  authority — were  the  ornaments  of  their  day  and  generation,  and  not- 
withstanding the  shade  of  ridicule  which  a  popular  writer  has  cast  around 
and  interwoven  with  their  history,  their  memories  will  ever  be  cherished 
until  virtue  ceases  to  be  an  attribute  of  the  human  mind.  The  public 
spirit  of  this  gentleman  and  his  liberal  views  have  long  been  the  theme  of 
universal  praise  ;  and  although  I  do  not  enjoy  the  privuege  of  his  personal 
aoquaintance,  I  know  he  must  b^  a  gentleman — the  mild  and  benignaai 
expressien  of  his  face — his  unassuming  habits— -his  blaad  aad  flMBtoOBs 
V  aUboveskit;  and,  to  uae  ttej—gpniy  fJQmom  Wiaiiwali, - 
AuMujB ^  wirwiMi  niktiuii tigoggfaont  the  world/" — ^voL  ii. 
pp.  160,  IBl. 

Does  not  Mr.  Morris  here^  notwithstanding  the  exoellenoe  of 
many  of  his  sentiments^  labour  somewhat  in  vain  to  make  them 
coincide  with  the  declaration,  that  "  no  American  should  wish  to 
trace  his  ancestry  further  back  than  the  revolutionary  war?"   If  we 
could  believe  any  man  whoi  he  said  he  felt  not  a  featb^s  weight 
of    concern  whether    he  was  the   desc^adant    of  the   hangman 
or  the  martyr,  whom  we  eould  nan^e  to  have   been  cdebrated 
characters  long  befixre  the  independence  of  the  American  states 
— we  only  repeat^  what  every  honest  he(ut  will  utter,  when  we 
assert,  that  the  want  of  that  oue  simple  and  intelligible  sympathy 
airgCMd  the  destruction  of  such  a  dehcate  and  natural  feeling,, as 
most  have  earned  down  in^its  devastating;  torrent  very  many  other 
features  of  the  most  lovely  and  virtuous  principles  of  humanity. 
*'  Still,"  says  Mr,  Morris,  ^'  I  would  not  think  ill  of  a  man  on  ac- 
OQUttt  of  any  misfortane  that  may  have  attended  his  birth,  nor  wdl 
of  a  man  simply  because  he  happened  to  be  cradled  in  the  lap  pf 
affluence  ana  power."    This  is  not  human  nature,  n^y^  nor  a 
prsjseworthv  exhibition  of  feeling.     The  descendant  of  pich  ^  man 
as  the  murderer  Burke^*  the  moment  he  was  pointed  put  to  aa«  hev^ 
ever  innocent  of  his  father's  primes,  would  augge^t  thoogbta  thai 
caused  us  pain^t  might  be  involuntary  reptigQaaee :  and  such  a 
state  of  feeling,  jf  not  carried  to  an  extent  to  endaoger  the  ordinary 
links  of  society,  ope^tes  wholeaomely.    We  hold  wealth  to  be  a 
general  jp>und  of  esti«iatioB,  on  the  other  hand     Nine  caae^  out 
of  tent  ncbea  are  the  reward  of  prudence ;  and  he  who  respects  not 
the  aaia  of  a  jNrudent  mai^,  supposing  nothing  else  to  be  known  for 
or  against  him,  violates  the  very  same  order  of  natural  sympathies 
and  good'Vorking  mtndples  which  we  have  alluded  to.     But  tl)cse 
are  such  piain  and  common-place  statements  as  carry  conviptipn 
the  moment  they  are  broached,  and  recognize  what  every  main's 
eaq>erience  of  his  own  and  the  world's  conduct  proves.     Nor  seod 
we  go  farther  than  to  (he  pages  of  these  volumes,  where  we  obserw 


Tke  AtUmHc  CUhBo^k.-^  Ttdei  utid  Sk^Uks^-^vueh  u$  they  are.     467 

tha  tendency  in  aotne  of  the  writers  to  trengport  tbemselveft  to 
lands,  or  deal  with  incidents,  in  which  a  titled  and  ennobled  chs^ 
yacter  oan  be  introdueed.  Indeed^  we  find  fault  with  the  work 
because  it  does  not  keep  more  at  home. 

In  Pencillings  by  the  Wajr,  written  by  Nathaniel  P.  Willis^  the 
feUowing  is  part  of  a  description  of  New  York,  which  may  very 
jmiMriy  be  taken  to  balance  the  flippancies  of  certain  European 
writen  who  hare  lately  employed  themselves  in  ridiculing  all  that 
is  American. 

"  Nature  designed  New  Yoik  ier  Ite  fiealest  oommercial  emporium  ip 
the  world,  and  it  fulfils  its  destinies.  Its  ^rimtiiMi  is  one  of  those  wonder- 
ful accidents,  if  such  it  may  be  called  without  pnfiuHty,  wl»chstetle«aid 
delight  the  observer  of  natural  wonders.  It  is  a  nudeim  of  acceH*  & 
seems  to  me,  whenever  I  approach  it  by. any  of  its  avenues,  that  the 
original  discoverer  must  have  held  his  brei^  while  he  contemplated  it  as 
the  site  of  a  future  city.  There  is  the  Sound,  sweeping  up  to  it  with  its 
majestic  channel,  from  the  sea,  and  giving  a  protected  passage  for  its  shoie 
navigation  to  the  east — ^the  ocean  itself  swelling  in  from  another  quarter  to 
the  very  feet  of  its  ^  merchant  princes' — the  Hudson  openine  two  hundred 
miles  into  the  heart  of  the  most  magnificent  and  productive  state  in  the 
Union,  threading  valleys  of  such  beauty  as  the  world  flocks  to  see,  and 
washing  the  bases  of  noble  mountains,  and  the  feet  of  other  cities,  populous 
and  prosperous — and,  to  the  south,  channels  for  its  smaller  navigatioa 
runnmg  parallel  with  the  sea,  and  yet  protected  from  its  violence— ^and  the 
city  itself,  rising  by  a  gentle  ascent  from  the  bay  on  one  side,  and  sinking  as 
gently  to  the  river  on  the  other,  leading  off  its  refuse  waters  by  natural 
drains,  and  washing  its  streets  with  every  shower— what  could  the  hand 
of  nature  have  done  more  ?  Add  to  this  the  enterprise  of  the  people,  which 
has  so  seconded  nature— beginning  their  canals  where  she  stopped  her 
rivers,  and  opening  waters  tboree  hundred  miks  to  hfx  iahod  aeas-^iMMl 
70U  have  a  picture  of  facility  and  prosperity,  whieU*  for  t)ie  brief  period  it 
lias  existed^  is  imequalkd  in  the  history  of  the  world.*' — ^vol.  iL  pp.  42*  43. 

We  like  this  hearty  strain  of  descripti#n  ;  it  haa  the  power  of 

Etriotism  about  it  The  following  tale^  too,  ia  suoh  es  we  wisii 
d  been  more  fiequentl^  met  with  in  theae  vokunes ;  we  xnaaa,  ii 
belongs  to  the  great  (original  elements  with  which  America  abomd^ 
in  endless  variety.  It  is  called  a  Kentoekian'a  account  of  a  pa»- 
tiier-fight. 

**  I  never  was  down-hearted  but  once  ia  my  life,  and  that  was  on  seeiiig 
tke  death  of  a  foithfiil  friend,  who  lost  his  life  in  trying  to  save  miae.  Hie 
fact  IS,  I  was  one  day  making  tracks  homeward,  after  4.  long  tmrnp  thseiigh 
ime  of  our  forests,  my  rifle  carelessly  resting  on  my  shouldei^  whan  lay 
isTOurite  dog  Sport,  who  was  trotting  quietly  ahead  of  me,  suddenly  stop- 
ped stock  still,  gazed  into  a  big  oak  tree,  bristled  up  his  back«  and  fetched 
a  loud  growl.  I  looked  up  and  saw,  upon  a  quivering  limb,  a  half-grpwn 
panther,  croudiing  down  close,  and  in  the  very  act  of  springing  upon  him. 
with  a  motion  quicker  than  chain-lightning  I  levelled  my  rifle,  blazed 
away,  and  shot  him  clean  through  and  through  the  heart.  The  varmints 
with  teeth  all  set,  and  daws  spread,  pitched  sprawling  head  fbremeet  to 
the  ground,  as  dead  as  Jvly\»  Coesar!    That  was  all  feir  enough  1  \mX 


mark!  tffore  I  had  hardlj  dropped  my  rifle,  I  fcu&d  mytelf  tiirown  down 
fiat  on  my  profile  by  the  old  ehe-panther,  who  that  minute  sprang  from  an 
oppoeite  tree,  and  Mt  upon  mj  Blioulders,  heavier  than  all  creation!  I  fed 
the  print  of  her  devilish  teeth  and  nails  thero  now!  My  dog  grew  mighty 
loving — Aff  jumped  a-top  and  seized  her  by  the  neck;  so  we  idi  rolled  and 
clawed,  and  a  pretty  considerable  tight  scratch  we  had  of  it.  I  began  to 
think  my  right  arm  was  about  chawed  upj  when  the  varmint,  finding  the 
dog's  teeth  rayther  hurt  her  feelings,  let  me  go  altogether,  and  clenched  Aim. 
Seeing  at  once  that  the  dog  was  undermost,  and  there  was  no  two  ways 
about  a  chance  of  a  choke-off  or  let  up  about  her,  I  just  out  jack-knife,  and 
with  one  slash,  jvrehaps  I  didn't  cut  the  panCher's  throat  deep  enough  for 
her  to  breathe  the  rest  of  her  life  without  nostrils !  I  did  fefel  ndghtjf 
savagerous,  and,  big  as  she  was,  I  laid  hold  of  her  hide  by  the  back  with  an 
alligator-grip,  and  slung  her  against  the  nearest  tree  hard  enough  to  make 
every  bone  in  her  flash  fire.  '  There/  says  I,  '  you  infernal  varmint,  root 
and  branch,  you  are  what  I  caXi  used  up!* 

"But  I  turned  around  to  look  for  my  dog,and — and — ^tears  gushed  smack 
into  my  eyes,  as  I  see  the  poor  affectionate  cretur — all  of  a  gore  of  blood 
— ^half  raised  on  his  fore  legs,  and  trying  to  drag  his  mangled  body  towaxd 
me ;  down  he  dropped — I  run  up  to  him,  whistled  lood,  and  gave  him  a 
friendly  shake  of  the  paws — (for  I  loved  my  dog!)— but  he  was  too  fur 
gone ;  he  had  just  strength  enough  to  wag  his  tail  feebly — fixed  his  closing 
eyes  upon  me  wishfully — then  gave  a  gasp  or  two,  and — ali  uhu  overP''^ 
vol.  ii.pp.  180— 182. 

Such  are  some  of  the  shorter  pieces,  or  distinct  pictures,  ia  tlie 
Atlantic  Club-book.  We  have  sought  for  what  seemed  to  as  the 
most  striking  portions,  as  suited  to  our  limits^  from  which  cur 
readers,  however,  may  be  enabled  to  form  some  idea  kow  o«r 
bxethren  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic  manage  the  dow-qafl^ 
in  the  light  literature  of  their  ephemeral  publications. 

The  second  work  at  the  head  of  this  article,  called  Talet  mtd 
Sketches — suck  as  tkey  are,  is  the  production  of  one  writer,  and 
we  should  suppose  him  to  be  a  yoang  man.  His  attempt  particii- 
larly  respects  the  traits  of  character  of  the  earlier  New-Engumdei^ 
and  of  the  American  aboriginals.  Several  of  the  tales,  we  are 
infinrmed,  have  appeared  in  the  Annnals,  either  on  this  or  the 
other  side  of  the  Atlantic*  Bat  though  such  a  circumstance  be,  to 
a  certain  degree,  a  testimony  in  favour  of  the  author,  it  will  not  be 
sufficient  to  obtain  for  his  pieces,  in  a  collected  fisrm,  a  pasaport  to 
immortality.  One  fault  very  prominent  in  these  volumes,  ami 
which  would  not  be  much  felt  by  a  sight  of  any  single  instance  cf 
its  occurrence,  attaches  to  the  class  of  the  scenes  he  alnooat 
uniformly  sketches.  These  scenes  are  not  only  dark,  Imt 
horrible  ;  his  minute  description  of  savage  butchery,  ibr  example^ 
is  in  bad  taste — ^so  that  a  perusal  of  the  work  left  upon  our  miiida 
a  repugnance  to  re-open  it.  There  are  passages  d  consideraUe 
descriptive  powers  to  be  met  with  here  and  there ;  but  even  in  the 
longest  and  most  laboured  tale  there  is  abundant  evidence  that  the 
writer  is  not  a  good  story-teller ;  the  feeling  c^  the  mind  after 


n» ^#JMic:CZM^iMib.«->31ite «Mf  Slut^ket^-^mch  n^ih^  are.      499 

tmAmg  the  end  of  the  sketch  is  qmte  difirent  irom  whstHras* 
mteaded  to  be  conveyed.  Strong,  sounding,  and  superlative  words, 
strung  laboriously  together,  unless  suppcnrted  by  corresponding 
vigour  of  sentiment,  defeat  their  own  purpose.  We  open  the  first 
volume  at  random  for  a  specimen,  and  fall  upon  the  foUo^ug 
reference  to  female  suffering  and  endurance,  in  a  tale  called  The 
Dead  of  the  Wreck. 

"  Additional  poignancy  and  bittemesa  were  impcu-ted  to  our  sufferings 
by  the  presence  of  the  females  under  our  charge,  draining  with  us  the  cup 
of  misery  to  its  very  dregs.  The  pleadings,  the  imploring  looks,  the  elo- 
quent silence  of  woman  in  distress,  who,  unmoved,  can  behold  I  But* 
never  were  the  divine  attributes  of  the  sex  more  conspicuously  displayed. 
For  fortitude  in  the  midst  of  danger ;  resolution  in  the  hour  of  peril ; 
patient  endurance  of  the  most  exquisite  suffering,  and  uncomplaining  sub- 
mission in  the  moment  of  utter  and  hopeless  despair ;  it  was  woman, — 
noble,  generous,  glorious  woman, — who,  throughout  this  long  period  of 
incessant  and  aggravated  disaster,  amid  scenes  of  suffering  and  woe,  which 
would  require  the  glowing  pen  of  a  Maturin,  and  the  tender  pathos  of  a 
Mackenzie,  to  describe,  set  us  the  highest,  the  noblest,  the  brightest  ex- 
amples."— vol.  i  p.  190. 

We  do  not  think  it  necessary  to  go  more  minutely  into  a  review 
of  the  bulk  of  the  work^  but  shall  confine  ourselves  to  the  only 
paper  which  has  at  all  engaged  our  interest ;  not  only  because  it  is 
an  exception  to  the  revolting  accounts  of  cruelty  that  prevail  in 
these  Such  as  they  are  Tales,  but  because  it  details  facts  that 
introduce  to  our  notice  illustrious  individuals,  and  peculiar  national 
features.  The  paper  referred  to  is  named  Setting  the  Wheels  in 
Motion-^a  title,  no  doubt,  thought  by  the  author  to  be  very  happy, 
and  which  he  savs  comprises  a  faithful  historical  record,  political, 
festive,  and  fashionable,  of  the  observances  in  the  city  of  New 
York  on  the  occasion  of  the  adoption  of  the  Federal  Constitution. 
We  see  nothing  to  make  us  doubt  the  fidelity  of  the  record,  which, 
it  is  added,  has  been  collected  with  much  care  and  labour  from 
such  printed  accounts  as  could  be  found  in  the  scattered  remnants 
of  the  little  dingy  newspapers  of  that  day^  and  also  from  such  facts 
as  are  yet  to  be  learned  from  some  surviving  actors  in  the  scenes 
described. 

The  adoption  of  the  Federal  Constitution  was  one  of  the  most 
importimt  events  that  the  citiz^is  of  New  York  had  ever  been 
called  on  to  celebrate — end  this  was  done  bv  rejoicings,  processions, 
feastings,  and  other  tokens  of  triumph.  We  must  here  extract  at 
considerable  length  from  the  author's  narrative.  After  informing 
us  that  all  the  trades  and  professions  in  the  city  came  forth  in  their 
entire  numbers,  the  following  more  particular  account  of  their  pro- 
gress is  given. 

'  *'  After  a  brilliant  military  escort  camie  Captain  Moore,  in  the  character 
and  ancient  costame  of  Christopher  Colnmbos,  preceded  and  followed  by 
a  band  of  forsstert.  with  axes,  suitably  apparelled.    The  next  divtsm 


iMMMdalAd  of  a  Utge  vauaber  of  fermen,  among  whom  vnrt  Nldiolis 
Oruger,  drtfing  a  sixoox  team,  and  the  present  venerable  John  Watta^ 
hoUBng  a  plough.  All  the  imi^ements  of  husbandry  and  gardening  were 
borne  in  the  prooeeaion,  and  the  Baron  Poelmte  attended  a  dirediiiu^  ma* 
ohiHie*  Thekr  hones  were  handsomdy  capariaoned,  and  led  by  b(^a  ia 
white  uniformi.  The  tailors  made  a  very  brilliant  display  oi  nunyMfs* 
uniforms,  and  decorations,  of  various  descriptions.  In  the  procession  of 
the  bakers,  were  boys  in  beantifiil  dresses,  representing  the  several  States, 
with  roses  in  their  hands.  There  were  likewise  an  equal  number  of  jour- 
neymen in  appropriate  uuiforms,  with  the  iiaplements  of  their  calling,  and 
a  loaf  of  bread  was  borne  in  the  procession,  ten  feet  long  and  three  wide, 
cm  which  were  inscribed  the  names  of  the  several  States.  The  display  of 
the  brewers  was  happily  conceived,  and  appropriate.  In  addition  to  their 
banners  fluttering  gaily  in  the  air,  they  paraded  cars  with  hogsheads  and 
tuns,  decorated  wiw  festoons  of  hop  vines,  intertwined  with  handafcll  of 
barley.  Seated  on  the  top  of  a  tun  was  a  living  Bacchus — a  beautiful  boy 
of  eight  years  old,  dressed  in  flesh-coloured  silk,  fitted  snugly  to  the  limbs, 
and  thus  disclosing  all  the  fine  symmetrical  proportions  of  his  body.  In  his 
hand  he  held  a  sUver  goblet,  with  which  he  quafifed  the  not-brown,  and 
on  his  head  was  a  garland  of  hops  and  barley  ears.  The  coopers  appeared 
in  great  numbers.  Their  emblem  of  the  States  was  thirteen  boys,  each 
thirteen  years  of  sge,  dressed  in  white,  with  green  ribands  at  their  ankles, 
a  keg  under  their  kft  arms,  and  a  bo«igh  of  white  oak  in  their  right  hands. 
Upon  an  immensely  large  car,  drawn  by  horses  appropriately  adorned, 
the  eoopers  were  at  work.  They  had  a  broken  easlC  representing  tiie  old 
confederacy,  the  staves  of  which  all  their  skill  oould  not  keep  together. 
In  despair  at  the  repeated  muUifitmtion  which  their  work  eaq)erienced.  they 
all  at  once  betook  themselves  to  the  conataructioQ  of  an  entuely  new  pieee 
of  work.  Their  success  was  complete,  and  a  fine,  tight,  ixoa-boand  keg 
axose  from  their  hand,  bearing  the  name  of  t^e  New  Constitution,  The 
procession  of  butchers  was  long«  and  their  appearance  highly  respectable. 
Upon  the  cdr  in  their  procession  was  a  roasted  ox,  of  a  thousand  pounds, 
which  was  given  as  a  sweet  morsel  to  the  hungry  multitude,  at  the  dose  ef 
the  day.  The  car  of  the  sons  of  St.  Crispin  was  drawn  by  four  milk-white 
steeds,  beautifully  eaparisoned.  The  tanners,  curriers,  and  peruke-makers, 
followed  next  in  order,  each  with  various  banners  and  significant  emblems. 
The  funiers,  from  the  novelty  of  l^eir  display,  attracted  great  attention. 
It  was  truly  pictureeqne.  Their  manhal  was  fi>llowed  by  an  Indian,  in  his 
native  costume  and  armour,  as  though  coming  wild  from  the  wildemcas, 
laden  with  raw  fiin  lor  the  market*  A  processioaof  Juume^aen  fniriers 
followed,  each  bearing  aome  dressed  or  asULulscturedartiGk.  Theae  were 
succeeded  by  a  horse,  bearing  two  packs  of  fiuSi  and  a  huge  bear  aitsiaig 
upon  each.  The  horse  was  led  by  an  Indian*  in  a  beaver  blanket;  and 
black  plumes  waving  upon  his  head.  In  the  rear  came  one  of  their  princi- 
pal men,  dressed  in  a  superb  scarlet  blanket,  wearing  an  el^ant  cap  and 
plumes,  and  smoldng  a  tomahawk  pipe.  After  these,  in  order^  marched 
the  stone  mason,  bricklayers,  painters  and  glaziers,  cabinet  and  chair- 
makers,  musical  instrument  makers,  and  the  upholsterers.  Tlie  decora- 
tions of  t^e  societifiB  vied  with  each  other  in  taste  and  variety,  but  that  of 
the  uphoUterers  exoelled.  The  federal  chair  of  atate  waa  bonie  upon  a  car 
superbly  carpeted,  and  above  wlndi  waa  a  rich  canopy,  nineteen  feet  high, 


ofellnd  ^itfa  dMp  blue  wMa,  hung  Mpith  totoom  BadLfrfai|M»  fBoA  gSMt- 
ing  in  the  sun  as  with  'barbaric  pearl  and  gold/  It  waa.rafficieDtly  gor- 
.geous  to  liave  filled  the  eye  of  a  Persian  emperor,  in  the  height,  of  splen- 
dour itnd  Bwgnificence.  Twelve  subdivisions  of  various  trades  succeeded 
iu  the  prescribed  order>  after  which  came  the  rnont  imposing  part  of  the 
pageant.  It  was  the  federal  ship  Hamilton,  a  perfectly  constructed  frigate 
of  Ihirty^two  guns,  twenty-seven  feet  keel,  and  ten  feet  beam,  with  gale 
leries  and  every  thing  complete,  and  in  proportion,  both  hull  and  rigging. 
She  was  manned  by  thirty  seamen  and  maiines»  with  officers,  all  in 
uniform,  and  commanded  by  that  distinguished  revolutionary  veteran. 
Commodore  Nicholson.  The  ship  was  drawn  by  ten  horses,  and  in  the 
progress  of  the  procession  went  through  every  nautical  preparation  and 
movement*  for  storms,  calms,  and  squidls,  aud  for  tlie  sudden  shifting  of 
winds.  In  passing  Liberty-street,  i^e  made  signal  for  a  pilot,  and  a  boat 
came  off  and  put  one  on  board.** — vol.  ii.  pp.  175 — 178. 

Such  is  part  of  his  history  of  the  23d  of  July,  1788.  The  win- 
ter festivities  that  commenced  in  the  same  year  were  succeeded  by 
matters  of  a  public  nature^  of  mighty  national  concern.  The  elec- 
tions, under  the  new  constitution^  had  been  carried  through. 
Washington  Was  created  president ;  and  now  a  question  of  great 
delicacy^  on  which  democratic  jealousy  of  titles  and  power  was 
strikingly  illustrated^  occupied  the  Senate  and  House  of  Hepresen- 
tatives.     The  question  at  issue  was  upon  the  adoption  of  some 

'-  respectful  title  by  which  the  President  of  the  United  States  sbould 
be  addressed  in  an  official  intercourse  with  him^  The  author  tells 
OS  that  the  first  {Mroposition  in  the  senate  was,  that  it  should  be 
''*  Hi*  Exeelltneyy^  but  this  not  being  considered  sufficiently 
elevated,  it  was  at  length  determined  to  have  it  ^  His  Highness, 
the  President  of  the  United  States,  and  the  Protector  of  their 
liberties.'*  But  the  House  of  Representatives  obstinately  refused 
to  sanction  any  title,  and  declared  that  the  constitutional  address^ 

'  •*  To  the  President,"  was  that  abne  which  they  could  sanction. 
Committees  of  conference  were  appointed,  but  to  no  purpose ;  and 
iftlthongh  the  Senate  finally  resolved,  that  it  would  be  proper  to 
address  the  President  by  some  respectful  title,  yet,  for  the  sake  of 
harmony,  they  acted  in  conformity  with  the  otLec  honaer  and  tfnof 
the  matter  has  rested  eves  aiaoe. 

W^hiagtMi  mm  suaimoned  from  the  shades  of  Vernon  to  New 
,  to  assume  the  high  trust  reposed  in  him ;  and  his  progress 
was  like  a  triumphal  procession  along  the  whole  distance.  The 
ehieftain's  landing  was  at  stairs  that  had  been  prepared  for  the 
occasion,  and  the  barge  that  carried  him  from  Elizabeth  Town  to 
Yew  York  was  rowed  by  thirteen  masters  of  vessels.  On  tjhe 
morning  of  the  day  appointed  for  the  august  ceremony  of  inducting 

.  him  into  his  exalted  slatioki,  all  the  churches  in  the  city  were 
opened,  and  their  respective  congrc^tions  r^aired  to  them,  to  unite 
in  imploring  the  blessing  of  Heaven  on  the  new  government.  The 
president  during  the  ceremony  was  clad  ia  a  j^ain  suit  of  brown 


4d2     .  Tke  Aikmik  Ghb-Saok.^  Taka  mtdJSkeickn-^'micA  a$  ihy  are. 

cfeth  and  white  silk  slockiiigs.    His  head  was  imocMreied,  aad  Us 
hair  powdered. 

'*  John  Adams,  the  Vice-President,  who  had  a  few  days  previously  been 
inducted  into  office  without  parade  in  the  Senate,  a  short,  athletic  figure, 
in  a  somewhat  similar  garb,  but  with  the  old-fashioned  MaasachuseUs 
wig,  dressed  and  powdered,  stood  upon  the  right  of  the  chieftain.  Roger 
Sherman  was  seen  in  the  group,  a  little  behind,  standing  with  Hamilton, 
and  many  other  sages  and  warriors,  among  whom  was  the  American 
artillerist,  Knox,  and  the  accomplished  Baron  Stuben. 

"  Opposite  to  the  President  elect  stood  Chancellor  Livingston,  in  a  foil 
8uit  of  black,  ready  to  administer  the  oath  of  office.  Between  them  the 
Secretary  of  the  Senate,  a  small  short  man,  held  the  open  Bible  upon  a 
rich  crimson  cushion.  The  man,  on  whom  all  eyes  were  fixed,  stretched 
forth  his  hand  with  simplicity  and  dignity.  The  oath  of  office 
administered.  The  Bible  was  raised,  and  his  head  bowed  upon  it  to 
-the  sacred  volume.  The  Chancellor  then  proclaimed  it  was  done,  in  a 
full  distinct  voice,  and  in  the  following^  worda : — ^'Lono  livb  Gbobob 
-Wasbikqtcn.  Prbsidbnt  ot  thb  Unitbu  States!*  'flie  silence  of 
tiiousands  was  at  an  end — ^the  air  was  rent  with  acdama^ions,  diffta»ted  by 
reason,  and  bursting  from  the  hearts'  and  tongues  of  men  who  felt  that 
the  happiness  of  themselves,  their  prosperity,  and  their  country,  was 
secured." — ^vol.  ii,  pp.  198,   199. 

The  dignified -simplicity  of  the  whole  scene  certainly  *  oontrasfK 
strongly  with  the  gaudy  pageantry  that  has  often  engaged  the 
crowned  heads  of  Europe.  For  several  days  succeeding  the  pre- 
sident*s  inauguration^  a  round  of  J^etes  of  various  descriptions  oc- 
cupied the  people^  whilst  his  time  was  of  course  much  occupied  in 
receiving  the  visits  of  private  and  official  individuals  as  well  as 
public  bodies.  But  as  to  the  gayer  attentions  shown  him,  the 
author  gives  a  particular  account  of  a  baU  to  which  Wasfaington 
was  invited.  The  following  passages  refer  to  points  that  muat  have 
supplied  a  fruitful  field  for  female  interpretation  in  New  York  at 
the  period  spoken  of.  • 

"  There  was  more  of  etiquette  in  the  arrangements  for  this  compli- 
mentary ball,  than  was  thought  by  some  to  be  exactly  consbtent  with 
our  republican  institutions^  and  more,  in  fact,  tlian  was  altogether  agree- 
able to  the  feelings  of  him  in  whosQ  honour  it  was  observed.  In  ood- 
nexion  with  the  managers  of  the  aasembhes,  .Colonel  Humphries  and 
Colonel  William  S.  Smith  were  selected  to  adji^st  the .  ceremoixie9|ii||Ml 
their  arrangements  were  reported  to  have  been  as  follows  : — ^At  the  head 
of  the  room,  upon  a  platform,  handsomely  carpeted,  and  beneath  a  ridi 
drapery  of  curtains  and  banners,  was  placed  a  damask-covered  sofr* 
upon  which  the  President  and  Lady  Washington  were  to  be  seated.  ITle 
platform  was  ascended  by  a  flight  of  three  or  four  steps.  The  costume 
of  the  gentlemen  was  prescribed ;  their  hair  was  to  be  dressed  in  bags,  wlA 
two  long  curls  on  the  sides,  with  powder,  of  course,'  and  all  were  to 
appear  and  dance  with  small  swords.  Each  gendeman,  on  taking  a 
partner  to  dance,  was  to  lead  her  to  the  foot  of.  the  sofa,  and  make  a 
low  obeisance  to  the  President  and  his  lady,  and  repeat  the  ceremosf 
of  respect  before  taking  their  seats  after  the  figure  wai  oondudad.  Tke 


phhB^^^T^ki  and:Sketch€$^unih  m  Hev  are.     41^ 


.»  A 


^ecmtip»9  t>f  the  aflfemrUy  room  yec^  tpdj  sj^]fip/fi^,  mdyerf  Utsff^Uy 

"  The  president  and  his  lady  were  iutrodaced  and  conducted  through 
Ijbe  iwloon  to  the  seat  provided  for  them  hy  Coloatl  Humphries,  o9 
nuu^  of  fioe  apcqcapliahipBents  aud  maiuaers.  General  Knox  had  juit 
been  appointed  Secretary  of  War,  and  his  lady  has  been  charg«fd  with 
so  far  nesembling  Caesar,  as  to  have  been  somewhat  *  and>itio«,'  Bfi 
that  as  it  may,  it  was  said,  in  those  days,  that  she  so  arranged  her 
own  movements  as  to  enter  the  saloon  with  the  president  and  bis  lady; 
followisg  them  to  their  station,  and  ascending  the  steps,  with  the  evi^ 
4ent  design  of  obtaining  an  invitation  from  the  President  to  a  seat  upo]| 
the  ,iionoured  sofa.  -  Unluckily,  however,  the  seat  was  too  narrow  for 
the  accommodation  of  three  persons,  and  the  lady  of  the  war  minister, 
with  4eep  and  apparent  mortification,  was  compelled  to  descend  to  thfi^ 
level  of  those  who  had  shown  themselves  to  be  less  opei^y  aspiring. 
No  other  incident  worthy  #f  especial  note  occuired  during  the  evenings 
w  none  which  attracted  psrticaliir  attention. 

**  The  illustrious  chieftain  himself  did  not  hesitate  to  countenance  tho 
^egant  amusement  by  participation,  as-the  heroes  and  statesmen  of  an« 
tiquity — the  demigods  of  the  Greeks  asd  Romans— had  done  before  hinu 
Mrs.  Peter  \'an  Brook  Livingston  and  Mrs.  Hamilton,  were  suooessively 
(ion««red  bv  the  cfaieftain^s  hand  in  a  cotillion.  He  afterwards  danced  a 
minuet  with  Miss  Van  Zandt.  subsequently  the  lady  of  Williayn  Maxwell, 
JSsq..  Vice  President  of  the  Bank.  There  was  dignity  and  grace  in  every 
movement  of  this  incomnarahle  man.  But  in  the  minuet,  which  is  held  to 
be  the  perfection  of  ail  dancing,  he  appeigred  to  more  than  his  wonted  ad- 
vantage. The  minuet  contains  in  itseif  a  compound  variety  of  as  romy 
SBOvemente  in  the  serpentine,  whl^h  is  the  linevf  beauty,  as  can  well  be 
put  together  in  distinct  quantities,  and  is,  withal,  an  exceedingly  fine 
composition  of  movements.  It  is,  4^)erefore,  the  best  of  all  descriptions  of 
dancing,  to  ^i^)iay  the  graces  of  person  and  attitude  ;  and  never  did  the 
majestic  form  of  Washington  appear  to  grea^te;'  advantage  than  on  the 
iKesient  occasion  of  elegant  trifling..  There  was,  moreover,  youth  and 
beauty  in  the  countenance — grace  in  the  step,  and  heaven  in  the  eye  of 
his  fair  partner.'*— vol.  ii,  pp.  206—209,  211, 

The  author  enters  at  some  longth  into  an  account  of  the  levees 
of  President  Washington^  which  ne  says  were  far  more  select  than 
those  of  the  same  fbnctionary  at  the  present  day.  It  appears^  ac- 
ceding to  the  statements  beiwe  ns,  (hat  formality  and  etiquette 
have  been  gradually  wearing  out  of  feshiotl'  since  the  first  Pte- 
sident's  time.  Down  16  the  ctose  of  Mr*  Madison's  administration, 
some  show,  if  not  of  state,  at  least  of  respect  for  the  high  offioft 
visited  on  levee  days  was  exacted.  Mr.  Monroe  required  less  for- 
inality  in  dress ;  and  the  second  President  Adams  less  again.  But 
reverence  for  the  office  still  kept  the  multitude  away,  who  had  no 
business  thore,  until  the  year  1829.  This  is  not  saying  much  for 
the  march  of  oourtesy  and  politeness  on  the  part  of  brother  Jo-< 
nathan.  But  Mrs.  Washin^nwas  particularly  careful  and  jealous 
of  the  honours  due  to  her  husband.  Her  character,  conduct,  and 
ihtinners  4re  thhs  giv^  by  the  author. 
.•  -vaL. ill.. (1834.)  KO.  ir.  h  k  -  t- 


494     The  Atlantic  Chb-Book^^Tatei  and  Shtekn^wcH  as  they  m'a. 

"  Mra.  Washingtcm  was  a  pleasing  and  agreeable,  rather  than  a  8{iiciidkl 
woman.  Her  figure  was  not  commanding,  but  tier  manners  were  ewsff 
conciliatory,  and  attractive.  Her  domestic  arrangements  were  always  con- 
certed under  her  own  eye,  and  every  thing  within  bef  household  movea 
Ibrwai^  with  the  regularity  of  machinery.  No  daughter  of  Eve  ever  wor- 
shipped her  lord  with  'more  shieef 6  and  affectroisate  veneration  ;  and  fione 
hf^  ever  cause  to  render  greater  or  more  deserved  homage.  When  absents 
Be  was  ever  in  her  thoughts;  and  her  mild  eyes  kindled  at  his  presenee^ 
She  was  well  -  educated,  and  possessed  strong  native  sense,  gnided  by'aB 
necessary  prudence  and  discretion.  She  rarely  conrei^ed  upon  pollticsl 
subjects,  and  when  the  most  expert  diplomatists  would  attempt  to  drt^ 
her  out,  she  had  the  faculty  of  turning  the  coarse  of  conversatkui  witb 
equal  defxterity  and  politeness.  At  all  the  President's  entert«tBiii«nti« 
whether  at  the  table  or  in  the' drawing-room,  notwitiistanding  the  ivgard 
to  etiquette  heretofore  adverted  to.  there  was  nevertheless  so  mudi  land-* 
Bess  of  feeling,  displayed,  and  such  an  unafiected  degree  of  genniile  hoapi* 
talily,  that  gohien  opinions  were  won  alike  from  the  foreign  and  domeati^ 
visiters." — vol.  ii.  pp,  213,  214. 

We  learn  that  she  established,  on  the  occajsion  of  holding  hertani 
levee y  which  took  place  on  the  first  of  Jaauary,  1790,  the  rule  that 
all  such  should  close  at  nine  o'clock.  Tea,^  coffee,  plain  and  f^mb 
cake  had  been  handed  round.  Familiar  and  frienoly  conveMition 
ensued.  .  Amid  the  social  chit-chat,  whilst  she  sat  by  the  side  oft 
UlQ  .  Qeneral,  the  hall  clock  struck  the  above-mentioned  hcHfllik 
Thereupon  she  rose  with  dignity,  and  looking  round  the  cirdtf 
with:  a.  complacent  smile,  observed,  ^^  The  General  always  rettnet 
at  nine,  and  I  usually  precede  him."  At  this  hint  the  ladies  ad- 
juHted  their  dresses,  made  their  salutations,  and  retired. 

*'  General  Washington  had,  on  that  day,  been  waited  upon  by  the  prin- 
eipkil  gentlemen  of  the  city,  according  to  the  ancient  New  York  cnstoia  of 
social  and  convivial  visiting  on  that  day.  '  After  being  severally  introduead, 
and  paying  the  usual  compliments  of  the  season,'  says  Mrs.  I^ntard,  '  the 
citizens  mutually  interchanged  their  kind  greetings,  and  withdiew  highly 
gratified  by  (he  friendly  notice  of  the  President,  to  most  of  wbom.M 
Was  personally  a  stranger.'  In  the  course  of  the  evening,  while  speaking 
of  the  occurrences  of  the  day,.  Mrs.  Washington  remarked^' Of  all  ^ 
incidents  of  the  day,  none  so  pleased  the  General,*  by  which  title  die 
always  designated  bim,  *  as  the  friendly  greetings  of  the  gentlemen 
who  visited  him  at  noon.'  To  the  inquiry  of  the  President,  whether 
it  was  casual  or  customary,  he  was  answered  tl'iat  it  was  an  annual 
custom,  derived  ^m  our  Dutch  forefathers,  which  had  always  been  com- 
memorated. After  a  short  pause,  he  observed — ''  The  higkiy^/twottrei 
situation  of  New  York  will,  in  the  process  of  years j  attract  numerous  nm- 
grants,  who  will  gradually  change  its  ancient  customs  and  manners ;  hut,  let 
whatever  chaises  take  place,  Nsvaa  FoaoBT  the  cohoial,  CBBBaruLOB- 
saavAKca  of  itbw-v bar's  pat.'  The  words  made  an  indelible  impres- 
sion on  the  ndnd  of  tlie  writer,  and,  at  this  distance,  of  time,  are  here 
recorded,  to  preserve  them,  if  possible,  from  total  oblivion."— vol.  ii.  pp. 
215,  ?16. 

These  are  really  interesting  and  pleasant  particulars,  fbr  which 
we  feel  obliged  and  kindly  towards  the  author.     Bi^  alter  whut  ^W 


Pro/etsor  'Low  pit  Agriculture.  49J 

md  tst'the  commeneemietit  of  our  notice  of  fats  work,  it  is  unneces- 
8ary  for  us  .to  do  more,  in  closing  this  article,  than  to  add/  that  he 
must  keep  to  a  narrative  of  facts,  and  not,  till  otherwise  provided 
than  shown  in  these  volumes,  lose  himself  in  the  land  of  fiction.     ^ 


Art.  VI. — Elements  of  Practical  Agriculture:  By  David  Low,  Esq.F.R.S.E 
liODdon-:  Ridgway  and  Sons.     Edinburgh :  Bell  and  Bradfate.  1834.    ; 

No  one  can  deny  that  the  art  of  Agriculture  is  of  the  first  jmpor- 
taAoe  to  the  welfisure  of  a  nation :  but  at  a  period  such  as  the  pre- 
sent, when  so  many  bold  and  sweeping  speculations  are  abroad,  and 
90ch  a  rash  desire  on  the  part  of  many,  to  overturn  everything  that 
n  established,  beeause  it  is  old,  agriculture  itself  escapes  not  the 
devastating  tempest.  We  believe  there  are  many  citizens  in  London 
who  will  tell  us,  that  agriculture  is  only  of  secondary  moment ;  that 
BritaiQ  depends  chiefly  now  upon  her  commerce  and  manulactures; 
or  at  least,  the  measures  that  such  men  propose,  would  leave  the 
**  Mother  of  Arts*^  unprotected  or  unassisted,  thereby  showing  the 
estimation  in  which  she  is  held  by  them.  We  do  not  at  present 
•ttempt  convincing  these  persons  of  their  error,  but  only  to  make  a 
tew  observations  of  a  plain  nature,  before  coming  to  the  work  on 
0ixr  table,  as  to  the  extensive  and  paramount  importance  of  agricul* 
tore,  to  the  very  existence  of  t^ie  empire.  I'he  subject  is  eminently 
io/t  a  popular  character,  and  can  easily  be  made  interesting.  It  has, 
indeed,  such  a  claim  upon  the  study  of  mankind,  that  the  father  of 
history  made  the  following  observation:  ^'In  a  highly  polished- 
comniunity,  the  generality  of  persons  should  in  some  degree  be  ac- 

guainted  with  so  common  a  subject  of  discussion  as  that  of  bus- 
andry/'  And  with  e^ual  propriety  it  has  more  lately  been  as* 
eerted,  that  agriculture  is  the  great  art,  which  every  government 
ought  to  protect — every  proprietor  of  land  to  practise — and  every 
inouirer  into  nature  to  improve  and  encourage. 

We  think  aH  this  becomes  manifest  by  a  simple  statement  of 
what  agriculture  embraces.  We  may  define  it  to  be  the  art  of  im- 
proving and  cultivating  the  soil,  so  as  to  produce  the  greatest 
Quantity,  and  to.  the  highest  possible  perfection  of  which  it  is  capa- 
le,^  those  vegetables  that  are  necessary  to  the  subsistence,  or  use- 
ful for  the  accommodation  of  man.  Agriculture,,  in  a  wide  sense, 
therefore,  embraces  gardening,  although  the  latter  refers  chiefl  v  to 
the  rearing  in  small  quantities,  such  articles  as  are  valued  as 
objects  of  luxury.  But  the  vegetables  that  are  calculated,  directly 
as  th^  come  from  the  earth,  to  afibrd  subsistence  to  man,  are  few 
in  number:  neither  can  even  these  to  the  utmost  advantage  be 
sown  and  reproduced  upon  the  same  spot  of  ground  without  inter* 
missi(»i.  Human  ingenuity  overcomes  both  the  deficiency  and  the 
difBcol^y,  by  indirect  means,  that  yet  fall  entirely  under  the  art  of 
improyipg  and  cultivating  the  soil.  Grass  is  a  prevalent  vegetable, 
and  man  cannot  eat  it;  out  he  can  e:ive  it  to  cattle,  thus  convert- 
-       •  '  nn2   -- 


* 


k9$  Pro/esM'  Law  OH  AgrUuthite. 

^ng  it  fot  his  own  use  into  flesh  or  milV,  ^hii6h  h%  ^H  ^6eX*   To  Mi^ 

i'>r  to  feed  such  animals  then,  its  he  can  \ide  ift  ^ven  iBore  nutritive 
bod  than  the  original  vegetables  these  cr^ltir^  Hve  upcA,  beoomil 
A  branch  of  the  agricultural  ait. 

'^' But  besides,  the  husbandman  cannot  conduct  the  above  nxenr 
tioned  branches  of  liis  business  to  any  advantage,  without  the  aid  of 
animals  that  «re  not  reared  for  subsistence,  but  for  their  services. 
To  the  cultivators  of  the  soil,  Providence  has  presented  such  ani« 
mals,  which,  from  thei):  strength  and  patience,  are  of  wond^Hul 
benefit ;  and  these  must  be  fed  and  tenderly,  cared  for.  But  we 
have  not  yet  done :  it  is  immediately  and  absolutely  necessary  to 
the  utmost  advantage  of  the  agricultural  art,  that  artifical  agents 
or  instruments  be  used;  these  must  be  fabricated  by  the  husband- 
man, or  those  whom  he  employs;  so  that  food  for  such  artificers 
must  be  provided,  and  therefore  his  art  embraces  indirectly  every 
trade  that  is  absolutely  necessary  to  the  existence  of  the  community. 

We  have  only  been  speaking  of  the  production  of  such  food  as 
mankind  cannot  to  the  greatest  advantage  live  without.  But  in 
cold  climates  clothing  is  as  necessary  as  food ;  and  this  alone  caa 
be  to  any  great  extent  furnished  in  consequence  of  the  skilful  culti*^ 
vation  of  the  soil.  Who  does  not  see  the  breadth  to  which  the  art 
spreads,  on  the  simple  announcement  of  these  truths?  They  jure 
such  as  must  crowd  into  every  tnihd,  the  moment  its  attention  k 
directed  to  the  subject,  in  a  manneiT  far  more  forcible,  refined,  Tami- 
fied  and  extensive,  than  we  can  describe.  But  for  the  considera^ 
fion  of  the  reasoning  mind,  we  shall  jiist  mention  some  otbrt 
points  belonging  to  agriculture,  that  are  of  no  less  magnitude  than 
any  that  have  been  named,  and-  by  no  means  foreign  to  its  nidare, 
although  belonging  to  another  order  of  things — ^being  rather  an  in- 
evitable association,  than  an  integral  part  c$  the  art;  we  mean  the 
physical  and  moral  tidvantages  H  confers  on  those  that  practise  it. 
Does  the  fanner's  business  not  conduce  to  health  of  body  ? — ^by  the 
varietwof  its  branches  and  operations,  does  it  not  lead  to  the  em- 
ployment of  mental  reflection  on  the  part  of  tdl  engaged  in  it?  Nay, 
does  it  not  hold  true,  that  rural  occupations  are  not  so  destmctive 
to  mond  purity,  as  those  which  are  pursued  in  the  midst  of  cities 
where  the  contagion  of  vice  is  so  easily  imbibed,  where  the  craft 
tad  deceit  of  commercial  employment  is  so  grossly  obtruded? 
ISvery  reflecting  person  beholds  here  a  wide  and  splendid  field  of 
gratification,  as  well  as  the  groatid  for  declaring  that  the  art  we 
9peak  of  is  by  far  the  most  important  of  an^  to  which  human  skffl 
can  be  directed.  In  truth,  it  is  only  as  agriculture  has  flourished; 
that  nations  ever  have  been  permanently  prosperous. 

The  prosperity  of  a  nation  must  ever  chiefly  depend  on  agricul- 
ture, if  it  possesses  an  extent  of  territory  sufficient  for  maintaining 
its  inhabitants;  for,  if  it  reKes  upon  means  foreign  to  itself,  it  must 
be  liable  to  the  denial  or  deficiency  of  those  means.  The  pripci- 
p'al  support  of  the  territorial  nation,  must  first  be  the  ani^ifais  jtto^ 


JFro/essor  fjow  on  jfyriwiture.  4|7 

.diiee  arising  irom  that  quctlity  in  the  soil,  which,  as  Sir  John  iSindair 
clearly  lays  it  down,  enables  the  soil^  in  proportion  as  it  is  skiliuDy 
manag^^  to  furnish  maintenance  for  a  greater  number  of  person3 
than  are  required  for  its  cultivation.     Thence  proceeds  the  profits 
of  the  farmers — the  rents  of  the  landlord — and  the  greater  propor- 
tion of  the  income  of  the  state.     But,  secondly,  the  prosperity  of  i^ 
nation  depends  not  only  on  having  a  great  marketable  suiplus,  but 
also  on  its  disposable  produce  fetching  such  a  price  as  to  encoa- 
rage  reproduction.     And  thirdly,  the  cultivator  should  have  suph  it 
command  of  capital  as  may  enable  him  to  carry  on  his  business 
with  energy.   The  importance  of  agriculture  to  our  national  welfare, 
not  only  thus  may  be  made  to  appear,  especially  were  the  varjous 
beads  which  we  have  merely  namc^  carried  to  their  utmost  bearr 
ing,  but  also  the  absolute  necessity,  as  regards  the  continued  prosr 
perity  of  this  country,  that  the  agricultural  interest  should  be  fos^ 
tered  adequately.     We  qould  easily  bring  from  the  past  and  recenjt 
government  returns,  incontrovertible  evi<fence  of  the  paramount  im^ 
portance  of  the  art,  by  referring  merely  to  the  test  furnished  by  the 
income  tax.     Not  only  did  the  agricultural  classes  contribute  more 
than  double  of  the  tax  to  the  exigencies  of  the  state^  compared 
with  the  commercial  and  professional;  but  it  must  ever  be  that 
the  land  produces  the  raw  materials  of  the  greater  part  of  our  ma- 
tiufactures. 

It  is  high  time,  however,  that  we  proceed  to  notice  the  volume 
which  has  been  the  occasion  of  these  plain  and  oft-repeated  septi* 
inents.  And  our  opinion  is,  that  Professor  Low's  Elements  are  ^ 
sound,  laborious,  and  instructive  digest  of  the  great  and  extensive 
art  which  we  have  been  speaking  of,  both  in  its  scientific  and  prac* 
deal  character*  That,  as  it  seen  a  to  us,  there  is  nothing  new  i^ 
the  volume,  is  in  favour  of  its  practical  u^^efulness,  though  it  is  ^ 
wonder  that  the  Professor  of  agriculture  in  the  University  of  Edior 
burgh  should  not  sometimes  go  but  or  rather  beyond  the  beaten 
track  cf  former  writers.  Still,  in  such  a  practical  art,  a  clear  state- 
ment and  condensation  of  all  that  has  been  done  and  said  hereto- 
fore, is  a  desideratum,  which  the  author  has  in  a  great  measure 
supplied.  The  view  he  tak^  >of  the  present  state  of  _agriculturd 
knowledge,  and  of  the  way  in  which  the  art  is  to  be  studied,  yri 
conceive  is  perfectly  sound.  He  says^  though  it  be  founded  upon 
principles,  the  nature  of  the  subject,  or  rather  the  state  of  our  knowr 
ledge,  requires  that  we  lay  the  foundation  of  our  study  of  it  on  our 
Itcquaintance  with  practice.  For  though  the  science  be  incomplete 
the  art  has  been  in  many  things  rendered  very  perfect  by  expenir 
enceonly. 

Yarious  things  stand  gveatly  in  the  way  of  allowing  the  theoryof 
agriculture  to  l^  so  perfect  as  that  a!  many  other  sciences.  For 
instance,  an  experiment  cannot  be  mad^  in  it  in  the  course  of  A 
short  time.  The  inquirer,  during  the  lapse  of  the  season  which  his 
crop  takes  to  grow,  may  be  misled  by  some  unobserved  circumV 


4§S  Professor  Low  on  t    •' 

'      •  *  *  '  '  *  ^^ 

stance;  and  where  are  there  so  many  subtle  agents  continually  at 
work,  such  as  those  of  climate  and  soil,  in  all  their  ever  changeful 
varieties  ?  Man's  life  is  too  short  for  many  repetitions  of  an  expe- 
riment; and  till  lately,  few  agriculturists  ever  thou^t  of  recording 
their  experience,  so  that  the  theory  is  very  incomplete.  We  there- 
fore highly  approve  of  the  manner  in  which  the  author  proceeds,  in 
a  work  designed  in  an  especial  manner  for  those  who  are  to  aigage 
in  the  study  of  agriculture  for  the  first  time,  viz.  to  lay  the  founda* 
tion  of  that  study  on  a  knowledge  of  practice;  even  then,  he  will 
be  best  enabled  to  extend  the  range  of  his  observations  to  the  re- 
lations of  science  with  the  art. 

We  now  present  some  extracts,  that  will  prove  how  clearly  the 
author  makes  things  to  appear,  in  consilience  of  the  thorough 
knowledge  which  he  himself  possesses  of  his  subject,  and  the  talent 
for  lucid  description.  The  first  chapter  treats  of  soils,  thwr  varie- 
ties, properties,  and  means  of  increasing  their  productive  powers*. 
Under  this  last  head,  we  do  not  find  that  he  has  arranged  cleaning 
as  one  of  those  means,  which  is  certainly  as  much  entitled  to  be  so 
ranked,  as  drying  by  drains. 

Manures,  annual  and  vegetable,  mineral  and  mixed,,  form  the 
subject  of  the  second  chapter.  As  respects  animal  and  vegetable 
manures,  there  is  an  opinion,  that  before  they  can  be  rendered 
available  as  nutriment  to  plants,  they  must  be  rendered  soluble  in 
water: — 

"  Of  the  means  which  Nature  emplo3rs  for  this  purpose,  feiinentatioa 
appears  to  be  the  chief.  By  this  process,  the  elementary  parts  of  the  sub- 
stance fermented  assume  new  forms  of  combination,  and  become  fitted  U> 
supply  the  matter  of  nutrition  to  plants  in  that  form, in  wh^ch  it  can  b^ 
received  by  the  pores  of  the  roots.  'The  fermientative  process  is  cootpleted 
after  the  substance  to  be  used  as  a  maDure-  is  mixed  with  the  idatter  <^  ^ 
soil ;  but  it  is  common  also  to  cause  it  to  undergo  a  certain  degree  of  fer- 
mentation before  it  is  mixed  with  the  earth.  This  is  the  method-  of  pre- 
l^ng  this  class  of  manures  for  use,  which  is  emploj^d  in  the  practice  of 
the  farmer. 

"  Animal  matters  decompose  with  facili^,  wben  acted  upon  bj  moistoie 
and  the  air,  tlie  greater  proportion  of  tin^ir  elementary  parts  making  their 
escape  in  various  forms  of  gaseous  combination,  and  leaving  the  eaiths* 
alkalies,  and  carbonaceous  matter  remaining. 

'*  When  this  decomposition  takes  place  beneatli  the  surface  of  the 
ground,  these  gaseous  compounds,  as  well  as  the  carbon,  (which  there  is 
reason  to  believe  assumes  also  the  gaseous  state  by  combining  with  oxygen). 
may  be  supposed  to  be  partially  or  wholly  retained  in  the  eaipth,  to  aflfoid 
the  matter  of  nutrition  to  the  plants. 

"  Purely  anim:d  substances,  therefore,  which  thus  readily  decompof«.  do 
not  absolutely  require  fermentation  before  tbey  are  mixed  with  the  soil. 
Yet  even  in  the  case  of  purely  animal  substances,  certain  beneficial  oon- 
.sequences  result  from  subjecting  them  to  a  previous  state  of  fennentatioo. 
Thus,  the  urine  of  animals,  when  applied  in  its  recent  .state  to  thesoil.is 
^ot  found  to  act  so  beneficially  as  a  manure,  as  when  a  certain,  degnetif 
previous  fermentation  lias  been  produced. 


Pr^pfeBswr  Low  an.  Agriculture,  499- 

.  *'  And'  diere  is  aaothor  purpose  promoted  by  causing  even  ^re  animal 
natter  to  undergo  fermentation,  and  this  is,  that,  being  mixed  with  vege*' 
tttUe  matter,  it  promotes  the  more  speedy  decomposition  of  vegetable 
ilbre."--pp.  40,  41. 

In  the  next.chfipter^  devoted,  to  the  implementa  of  the  farm, 
these  general  rules  as  to  the  oonstmction  of  a  harrow^  embrace  all 
the  important  points  for  consideration : — 

'  "  AVith  regard  to  the  distribution  of  the  teeth  in  the  frame  of  the  har- 
row, they  should  not  be  placed  too  closely  together,  for  then  they  would 
be  too  much  impeded  by  the  obstacles  opposed  to  them :  further,  they 
nhoald  be  so  disposed  widi  relation  to  each  other,  as  that  one  part  of  the 
instrument  shall  not  be  more  interrupted  than  another:  again,  their 
fiumber  should  not  be  too  great,  because  then  their  power  to  penetrate 
into  the  gronnd  will  be  diminished,  unless  the  weight  of  the  whole  instni* 
ment  shidl  be  increased  in  a  osprijesponding  degree:  and  lastly,  their  kngth 
ahould  not  be  greater  than  is  necessary,  because  they  will  not  on  that  ac- 
count penetrate  more  deeply  into  the  gmund,  unless  the  whole  weight  is 
also  increased,  and  because  this  increase  of  length  will  give  a  greater  poWer 
to  the  teeth,  when  encountered  by  obstacles,  to  split  the  frame  in  which 
they  are  fixed." — ^pp.  89. 

Most  verbal  descriptions  of  machinery  are  far  from  intelligible. 
The  following  of  the  thrashing  machine  is  not  so : — 

"  The  separation  of  the  grain  of  corn  from  the  straw,  has  been  effected 
by  various  means.  That  which  is  the  most  familiar,  and  which  has  been 
derived  from  the  earliest  times,  is  by  the  flail,  a  simple  instrument,  which 
consists  of  two  staves  bound  together  by  tough  thongs.  One  of  these 
trtaves  is  held  in  the  hands  of  the  workman,  and  with  the  other  the  un- 
thrashed  com  is  beaten  with  force.  By  this  means,  the  grain  and  husks 
igre  separated  from  the  straw,  and  those  again,  by  the  further  action  of 
manqwing,  from  eaieh  other. 

'*  The  flail,  idthough  efficient  in  the  hands  of  an  expert  workman,  is 
l>ut  a  rude  instrument.  The  operation  performed  by  it  is  laborious,  and 
the  separation  of  the  grain  from  the  stems  is  often  imperfectly  executed. 
Ab  agrieultpre  has  advanced,  attempts  have  been  naturally  made  to  sub- 
etitote  machinery  which  might  perform  the  operation  required  with'  more 
fiacility  and  greater  despatch.  These  attempts  were  but  partially  success- 
fhl.  Until  the  invention  of  Andrew  Meilde,  an  ingenious  mechanic  of 
Scotland,  to  whom,  beyond  a  question,  belongs  the  honour  of  having  per- 
fected the  tiirashing-machine.  Changes  and  improvements  have  indeed 
been  made  on  certain  parts  of  the  original  machine ;  but,  in  all  its  essential 
parts,  and  in  the  principle  of  its  construction,  it  remains  as  it  came  from 
the  hands  of  its  inventor. 

V  In  this  machine,  the  unthrashed  com  is  made  to  pass  between  two  re* 
Tolving  rollers.  It  is  held  firmly  by  these,  which  are  of  small  diameter* 
and  revolve  with  comparative  slowness,  while  it  is  acted  upon  by  a  set  of 
heaters,  as  they  may  be  called,  placed  upon  a  cylinder,  and  revolving  with 
great  rapidity.  The  cylinder  revolves  upon  a  horizontal  axle,  while  the 
beaters,  consisting  of  bars  covered  with  iron,  are  fixed  lengthwise  upon 
it,  that  is,  parallel  to  its  axis.  The  action  of  these  beaters  detaches  the 
com  and  chaff  from  the  straw,  and  then,  by  means  of  revolving  rakes,  the 
straw  18  shaken,  and  the  corn  and  chaff  are  allowed  to  separate  from  it. 


idd  firo/esnor  Lom  00  AjfriatbureJ) 

Theftc  faU  tlnrough  spars  or  wire-iheshea  into  anot&er  nwcftiae,  wberr d&er 
undergo  the  process  of  vi  innowing,  "while  the  straw  itself  is  carried  fdrwam 
and  thrown  out  of  the  machine  by  the  abtioii  of  the  revolviiig  rakes.'*— ^ 

the  ignorance  and  infatuation  of  those  who  ran  down  maeiu^r 
nery  as  being  injurious  to  society  at  large.  We  have  room  only  €4> 
assert,  that  thrashing  machines  have  created  at  least  doiibie  of  the 
labour  of  that  which  they  have  superseded.  We  pass  on  to  wheel 
carriages ;  and  wish  that  English  fanners  and  carters,  eoald  be  per- 
auadect  to  attend  fa  the  fdhming  observational  The  damav^  heavy^ 
and  expensive  eoNalvncti<m  of  both  easts  and  wag^goiis,  m  Imimgiir 
bourhbod  of  London,  for  example,  gives  pain  to  every  man  who  tuna 
his  attention  to  the  subject,  md  who  luis  trkneseed  thoee  ia  maiif 
parts  of  the  north: — 

*'  Although  the  waggon,  under  certain  ^vea  circumstances^  pess^ses  adr 
vantages  of  its  own,  it  is  yet  inferior  ti>  th'e  single- horse  eart,  for  die  move 
common  purposes  of  the  farm. 

-'*  In  the  single-horse  cart,  the -horse  partly  bears  the  load  and  partly 
Srags  it. '  In  this  manner,  it  b  believed  that  it  can  be  shown  that  the  horsa 
can  move  a  greater  weight,  at  least  for  iftoderat6  Histanees,  than  when  h^ 
exerts  his  force  solely  in  pidHng.  The  single-horse  cart,  therefore,  m  ttuf 
excels  the  waggon,  that,  for  moderate  distances,  a  greater  e6mparadTe 
weight  can  be  drawn  by  an  equal  exertion' of  animal  force.  And  it  poeat 
sesses  this  further  advantage  over  the  waggon,  that  it  is  more  readH^ 
tumedr  backed,  and  otherwise  managed,  so  that  a  considerable  saving  en 
time  is  effected  by  employing  it  in  most  of  the  common  operations  of  th^ 
farm. 

*'  The  objections  to  ^e  use  of  die  cart  fioir  the  (iitirivi^t  of  loads  exBI 
when  the  roads  are  very  bad,  and  the  carnages  very  distant :  hi  either  cas^ 
the  hoise  is  distressed  by  the  pressure  of  tiie  loadr  aad  Lis  6wii  confineJI 
positioa  in  the  shafts.  But,  where  the  rokds  iare  good,,  this  ob|ect3on  dddi 
not  apply ;  and  experience  ihows  that  a  greater  weight  can  'be  drawn  Icir 
ail  equal  distance  by  the  same  noaabcr  of  horses  in  carts  than  in  waj|gdua> 

"  Bat  tw6  horses  may  be  einployed  to  draw  the  cart,  one  beiiog  yoU^ 
before  the  other.  In  this  case,  however,  a  coasideiable  loss  of  pcrfrer  tt^ 
suits  from  the  manner  in  which  the  fore-horse  is  necessarily  attadied  tb 
the  carriage :  for,  by  ceasing  to  exert  his  force  even  for  the  ^1i<ntcfst  tilftcl, 
he  throws  the  whole  burden  upon  the  shaft-horse ;  knd  whe&,  afteark  teor- 
jporary  relaxation  of  draught,  he  makes  an  exertion,  it  is  effecMi  by  meaas 
of  a  start  or  jerk,  which  distresses  himself  as  weM  as  the  shaft-hcnMe ;  93A 
as  he  ^cquently  pulls  in  a  line  of  direction  somefwhat  dSFeretii  IroAi  that  of 
the  shaft-horse,  a  part  of  the  force  exerted  is  lost,  and  become^  a  pfafemfe 
upon  the  back  of  the  tatter.  Hence,  although  die  fbre-horse  fre^c 
throws  the  whole  labour  of  draught  upon  the  hors^behiBd,  jret^fiy  ex^ 
his  force  solely  in  pulling,  without  bearmg  aiiy  portion  of  the  Weight,  'ai 
by  the  starts  and  jerks  to  which  he'is  subject,  he  is  ^Imdbt  always  {dhzA 
to  be  more' distressed  on  a  journey,  dr  by  any  contmued  work,  than  ttfe 
horse  on  which  the  burden  f&Us  more  constantly  and  equally ."-7-pp.  I  ^A* 


'  On  the  itofieiiMim  cS  BmiiQil  blMNir,  die  ftntlidr  had  ^v«ci  evvry 
iYAiig  that  c6ttld  be  d^ifefl  by  6  yofui^  fiff IMT  about  to  foraigb  hti]h» 
i^elf  with  a  tomplete  assortment  of  such  articles*  We  have  only  to 
remark  here,  that  a  few  simple  efficient  instruments  are  of  tnoeh 
inore  use  than  a  number  of  complicated  ones,  the  pr^nsions  of 
which  may  be  great.  This  trutn  maybe  illustrated  by  a  cork- 
screw^  which  is  faipiliar  ^louj^h  to  most  men.  We  ourselves  ha^e 
paid  a  guinea  for  one,  but  from  its  complexity,  it  is  only  useful  as 
a  specimen  of  misapplied  ingenuity. 

It  never  was  our  puipose,  in  reference  to  ihi»  volume*  whtob  oob^ 
tains  nearly  700  pagtis  of  matter,  to  give  anythinfl^  like  a  review  of 
its  leading  contents.  W»  accordingly  pass  over  uie  great  body  of 
the  work,  and  come  fo  the  two  last  chapters  or  sections  of  it*  W% 
however  name  the  intermediate  branches,  that  our  readers' may 
see  the  scope  and  comprehensive  nature  of  the  book.  After  the  tfaraife 
first  chapters,  which  we  have  already  spoken  of,  there  fbUows:— » 
The  simple  operation  of  tillage — preparation  6f  land  for  crops-— 
succession  of  crops — cultivation  of  plants — ^weeds  of  agriculture— » 
imd  management  of  grass  lands*  The  last  chapter  but  one  is  on 
^e  rearing  and  feeding  of  aoiinak.  .Und«(r  th^se  various  heads,  there 
are  long  lists  of  particular  divisions,  entering  va*y  minutely  into  tha 
liractaoe  of  the  farmer ;  indeed,  so  as  with  a  little  previous  expe- 
rience, may  be  turned  to  muc^h  praetieal  usci  An  to  the  rearing 
and  feeding  of  animals,  we  quote  an  acoouni  of  the  Scottish  method 
of  feeding  the  farm  horse  :-^ 

"  When  the  pastures*  or  other  .green  food,,  (ml  in  autumn*  whicli  will 
generally  be  bj  the  beginning  of  October,  the  korses  are  to  be  put  on  hard 
food.  They  should  receive  i^t  this  period  an. allowance  of  hay  at  the  rate 
of  twenty,  pounds  in  the  day»  with  two  galloDS  of  oats ;  or,  in  place  of  a 
portion  of  the  oats^  they  may  receive  at  night  a  feed  of  ateained  food,  con- 
sistiiig  of  potatoes,  or.  any  other  roots,  mixed  with  a  little  pom,  and  sear 
eonedwith  salt.  The  whole  qaantity  may  be  a  peck  weigfaiag  about 
twdve  pounds.  The  quantity  of  potatoes  that  corresponds  in  nounshnent 
with  oats,  is  in  the  proportion  of  about  fifteen  pounds  of  raw  potatoes  to 
one  gallon  of  oats. 

**  In  the  months  of  November,  December,  and  January,  when  the  dayf 
and  the  time  of  labour  are  short,  the  ha|r  may  be  withdrawn,  and  tibe 
horses,  in  place  of  it,  fed  pn  straw,  of  which  the  best,  when  it  can  be  ob- 
tained, is  that.of  beans  or  pease..  Next  to  these  in  quality  is  that  of  oats. 
The  straw  of  wheat  .and  barley  is  in  this  country  only  used  as  litter, 
though,  were  it  be  o[ut .  h»to  chaC  it  could  be  advantageoudy  used  as 
fodder.  , 

'*  At  this  time  the  horses  should  receive  two  gallons  of  oats  in  the  day ; 
or  the  quantity  of  oats  .may  be  diminished,  and  a  porticm  of  ^learned  food 
l^vei^.al  night*  They  should  receive,  as  before,  two  feeds,  one  in  tb^ 
jnoraing  before  going  to  work,  and  one  at  mid-day  •  and  their  steamed  food 
at  night.  By  the  beginning  of  February,  tiiey  should  again  be  put  on  hay, 
in  preparadoo  for.  their  harder  work  in  spring.  At  or  before  the  time  of 
^sowing  the  6ats,  4hat  being  the  commeiicemeBt  of  the  se«i8on  of  activje 


502  Pr^i^wr  JLm  tm  AtrifmUkn: 

Uboar,  the  hdnes  sbbukl  (eci-lve  tlietr 'fiiU  alicniwM^.ol  tliijK  glAmi of 
cats  in  the  day.  or,  in  plpoe  of  a-  portion  of  their  dry  oats,  a  correaponidiii^ 
allowance  of  steamed  food.  They  should  be  fed  three  times  in  the 
day,  a  feed  of  oats  being  given  in  the  morning,  a  feed  at  mid-day  be- 
tween the  intervals  of  work,  and  at  night  they  may  either  receive  their 
third  feed  of  dry  oats,  or  a  corresponding  quantity  of  steamed  food 
mixed  with  their  oats. 

*'  They  are  to  receive  this  fall  allowance  of  hay  and  com  until  about  tlie 
beginning  of  June,  when  they  may  receive  green  food,  on  which  they  ana. 
fed  during  the  remainder  of  the  season,  their  daily  allowance  of  oats 
deing  reduced  to  one  gallon. 

'*  Three  methods  of  feeding  them  on  green  food  may  be  adopted  : — they, 
may  be  turned  out  to  pasture  in  the  fields;  th^y  noay  have  green  fo- 
rage cut  and  brought  home  to  them  in  the  yards  or  stalls ;  or  they  may  be  fed 
in  the  intervals  of  work  on  green  food,  and  turned  out  in  the  evening 
to  the  .fields  to  pasture. 

"  When  the  first  of  these  methods  is  adopted,  thnt  is,  when  the  horses 
are  simply  pastured,  they  are  merely  turned  out  to  the  field  at  night 
after  work;  they  are  caught  again,  or  driven  home  to  the, stables,  in 
the  morning,  and  then  again  tnmed  out  after  the  morning's  woi^,  which 
may  be  aboi^it  ten.  o'clock,  and  allowed  to  feed  ttU  the  afternoon's  woik, 
which  may  begin  about  one  o'clock ;  they  are  then  caught  aad  ^aineet  tz> 
work. 

*'  The  defects  of  this  mode  of  management  are  apparent.  Time  is  lost 
in  takiBgthe  animais  to  and  from  the  field  during  Uie  intervals  of  work, 
and  then,  having  to  gather  their  own  food,  they  have  too  short  a  time  ixa 
rest  and  feeding  during  the  interval. 

*'  The  second  practice  mentioned  is.  to  turn  the  horses  out  to  pasture  at 
night  after  work,  but  in  the  interval  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  to  give  them 
cut  green  forage,  which  is  brought  home,  and  given  to  them  in  the  stall  or 
stable.  In  this  manner  they  feed  at  leisure,  undisturbed  by  insects,  and, 
having  their  food  collected  to  them,  waste  no  time  in  gathering  it  in  those 
hours  which  are  suffered  to  elapse  between  the  labour  of  the  moniiog 
and  that  of  the  afternoon.  This  is  an  approved  method  of  managing  the 
horses  of  the  farm.  Their  health  is  the  better  for  their  being  kept  oat  at 
night,  while  the  advantage  of  this  is  combined  with  the  economical  practiee 
of  soiling. 

*!  The  other  method  of  feeding  is,  to  keep  the  horses  constantly  in  die 
stable,  or  in  a  yard  with  covered  sheds,  and  to  feed  them  entirely  on  green 
forage.  There  is  economy  with  respect  to  feeding  in  this  system,  bnt  it  k 
scarcely  so  conducive  to  the  permanent  health  of  horses,  as  to  give  them  a 
run  out  in  the  fields  in  the  summer  nights.  The  system  of  constant  soiling, 
however,  is  in  many  cases  necessary,  from  the  want  of  pastures.  Uliere  it 
is  practised,  it  is  better  to  keep  the  horses  in  yards  with  open  sheds^  than  to 
confine,  them  entirely  to  the  stables.  To  carry  on  a  system  of  soiiing 
where  clover  and  rye-grass  are  the  forage  plants  employed,  a  qaantity  of 
tares,  equal  to  a  quarter  of  an  acre  for  each  horse,  should  be  sown,  to  be 
given  to  the  horses  in  the  intervals  between  the  first  and  second  cuttiiig  of 
clover,  or  when  they  are  engaged  at  hard  work  in  harvest,  or  at  other 
times. 

"  In  the  northern  parts  of  this  country,  farmers  cannot  generally  begin 
to  tut  clover  HU  the  let  of  June  t  but  in  the  southern  part  of  the  cvtotry. 


Pf^enw"  Ldi)  dii  Agrkuttture.  *O0 

\\ii  soiling  cun  be  «dtnmcnced  much  eaVlifer.  When  tliefe  arc  maAy  hcMM; 
dne  man  may  be  employed  to  do  the  work  of  cutting  and  putting  the  cttt 
forage  in  bunches,  i^nd  it  should  be  led  hpme  by  a  spare  horse,  so  as  to  be 
ready  when  the  hordes  return  from  work.  One  man  will  put  into  buucheii  * 
-quantity  sufficient  for  twenty  hordes,  and  each  horse  will  consume  upon  an 
average  about  two  hundred  pounds  in  a  day. 

'  "  Whenihe horses  are  turned  oat  to  the  fields  at  night,  and  kept  on  cut 
forage  during  the  day,  they  should  be  put  into  their  istables  by  the  beginning 
of  September,  and  kept  in  the  house  during  the  night,  recsi^ng  green 
forage  if  it  is  yet  u|)on  the  farm,  or  else  receivivg  hwy.  By  the  Ist  of  Oc- 
tober they  should  generally  be  put  on  hay  and  com." — pp.*482— 484. 

\  When  speaking  of  sheep^  the  author  gives  this  distinct  and  ia-i 
leresting  though  by  no  means  original  account  of  wool.  The  .man- 
ner of  Sie  despciption,;  however,  we  think  pleasing ; — 

•  **Hair  is  an  appendage  of  the  skin  of  the  mammalia.  It  consists  of 
fine  filaments  growing  from  the  inner  pait'  of  the  skin,  to  which  it  serves 
as  a  covering;  it  is  nearly  the  same  in  its  chemical  composition  as  horn 
andfeathcrd;  it  is  kept  flexible  and  mdist  by  an  oily  secretion  from  the 
^kin;'  it  is  furnished  with  blood-vessels,  like  all  the  other  organs  of  ani- 
mals, and  in  certain  cases,  with  nerves.  Being  intended  chiefly  as  a 
covering  to  the  animal,  it  abounds  the  most  under  those  circumstances 
where  it  is  most  required.  Quadrupeds  are  more  or  less  covered  with  it, 
and  for  the  most  part  in  the  greatest  dejgree  where  the  cold  is  the 
l^atest.  Man  is  sli^ht^y  supplied  with  this  universal  defence;  but  he  is 
enabled,  by  his  reason,  to  adapt  the  hair  of  other  aninials  to  his  use. 

*'  When  the  hair  of  animals  is  very  thick  and  strong,  it  forms  spined  and 
bristles;  when  very  fine  it  forms  the  down  or  fur  of  animals;  when  it  is 
fine,  and  at  the  same  time  curled,  it  is  termed  wool.  It  is  this  cuYKng 
property  of  the  wool  which  renders  it  more  suitable  than  any  other  species 
of  h  tir,  for  being  woven  into  cloth. 

'  ^The  wool  principally  used  for  the  purpose  of  forming  cloths,  is  that 
of  the  domestic  sheep;  and  we  know  that  this  substance  has  been  so  em- 
ployed from  the  earliest  records  of  the  human  race.   - 

'  '*  Wool  frequently  loses  its  curling  property,  and  passes  into  hair.  In 
the  warmer  regions  the  fur  of  sheep  is  more  hairy  than  in  the  colder, 
apparently  because  a  less  thick  and  mattf^d  covering  is  required  for  tile 
protection  of  the  animals.  .  Hair  also  is  found,  and  sometimes  in  lai^^ 
quantity,  intermixed  with  the  wool  of  sheep,  in  cold  and  temperate  coun- 
tries. This  intermixture  of  hair  unfits  the  wool  for  many  manu&ctures, 
and  it  is  a  process  of  art  to  separate  it  from  the  wool.  By  neglect  iA 
the  treatment  of  the  animal,  the  proportion  of  hair  increases ;  by  care  and 
more  complete  domestication,  the  quantity  of  hair  diminishes. 

**•  The  wool  of  sheep,  like  the  hair  of  other  aniAnals,  is  periodically  re*> 
hew^,  the  older  hair  falling  off,  and  a  new  growth  taking  its  place.  In 
the  case  of  the  sheep  this  renewal  of  the  wool  occurs  once  in  the  year, 
and  at  the  beginning  of  the  warm  season.  It  is  at  this  period  that  we 
anticipate  the  natural  process  by  shearing  or  cutting  olT  the  extern  1 
part  of  the  fleece.  In  some  countries  the  fleece  is  not  shorn,  but  is 
pulled  off.     The  manner  in  which  the  wool  is  renewed  seems  to  be  by  a 

rre^h  growth  from  the  same  roots,  and  by  the  old  portion  breaking  olf.    > 
**  Wool,  like  every  kind  of  hair,  grows  quickly  when  cut.     We  voAj 


•  •     «    "t 


6M  Vnfm^m^  Im  ^ 

^faetf  our  abeep,  tKereforf ,  more  thAn  once  in  the  year,  and  tbe  wool  Irill 
grow  again*  But,  in  this  country,  it  is  never  thought  expedient  to 
shear  the  wool  more  than  once  in  the  jear,  and  the  proper  period  !a 
aiwaya  when  the  old  fleece  id  about  to  ndl  off,  that  is,  at  the  beginnings 
of  aummer.  The  precise  time  is  very  much  dependent  on  the  con^ 
dition  of  the  animals  When  fat,  the  wool  tends  to  falls  off  more  early 
than  when  the  animal  is  lean.  Frequently  disease,  and  especially  disease 
4>f  the  skin,  causes  the  animal  to  lose  its  fleece. 

**  The  wool  of  iambs  is  sometimes  shorn,  but  this  is  a  practice  not  to 
be  followed  in  a  cold  climate.  The  sheep  of  this  country  ought  neTci* 
to  be  shorn  until  the. second  year  of  their  age. 

**  The  wool  of  sheep  is  sometimes  black,  and  it  is  probable  that  the  wool 
^f  all  the  less  cultrrated  kinds  tends  more  or  less  to  black.  Some  of  ou|r 
sheep,  even  of  superior  breeds,  have  black  faces  and  legs,  as  the  South 
Down ;  and,  in  all  these  breeds,  there  is  a  tendency  to  a  mixture  of  black 
wool  with  the  white.  This  is  an  imperfection  in  the  wool,  the  black 
piles  not  being  fitted  to  receive  the  dyeing  colours. 

**  Prom  some  notices  in  ancient  writers,  there  is  reason  to  believe  tha| 
ihe  former  colour  of  sheep  was  often  black.  But  if  the  least  attention 
were  paid  to  the  choice  of  rams,  it  is  easy  to  suppose  that  the  white 
Colour  would  ultimately  prevail  in  the  domestic  sheep  of  almost  ^ 
countries ;  and,  from  the  earliest  times,  it  would  be  known  that  black 
wool  was  not  fitted  to  receive  those  beautiful  coUma  which  so  imjek 
Ipilease  the  taste  even  of  the  rudest  nations.  But  in  this  country,  lUftnuft 
we^  have  frequently  sheep  bearing  hlack  wooL  there  is  oo  intJiJorwMi^ 
to  propagate  the  peculiarity  in  the  race,  and  heiice  blac^  ivmf  ani  9mm 
used.**— pp.  56d-*67L 

.    Of  thenJbhit:— 

***  it  is  generdly  foond  that  ihe  labbit-varten  in  this  country  is  a  verj 
npnrfuctive  .species  of  property.  At  l^e  present  price  of  the  *T**-Htlff^ 
there  is  scarce  an  inducement  to  preserve  ezistmg  warrens,  and  none  to  fofti 
Bewones. 

*'  if  the  rabbit,  then,  is  to  be  cidttrated  in  this  country  as  afi  oh\e0t 
of  profit,  he  must  be-  reared  in  tiie  house  or  yard,  and  then  the  vanety 
lb  be  aelected  is  the  tame  or  domestic  rabbit. 

^ "'  The  domestic  rabbit  is  larger  than  the  wild,  and  is  gieatjy  diver* 
•ified  in  size  and  eolour.  His  flesh  is  mpre  white  and.  delicate  than 
that  df  the  wUd  nrbfaSt,-  but  generally  less  valued,  because  possesstng 
lass  of  tkegwne  flavour.  .         ~^ 

.  "'  The  variety  chosen  for  bleeding  -shouhi  be  of  die  larger  kinds. 
Those  termed  the  French  and  Turkic  rabbits  are  much  esteemed.'  The 
niA>bit  selected  for  breeding,  we  are  informed  by  poultekien,  shoald  itf^ 
wide  in  the  loin  and  short-leggeH.  It  tlniB  appears  .that  the  ^am^  ex- 
ternal Ofaaracters  whidi  indicate  u  .^position  to  feed  in  ^e  other  do- 
tnestic  animals,  indicate  t^e  same  property  in  the  rabbit. 
.  ^  In  the  management  of  the  rabbit,  the  utmost  attention  muitlie 
paid  to  ventilation,  i^leftDlmeas,  and  food.  The  animals  are.mg«ti:Q|i« 
veitieiitly  kept  in  boxes,  or  oompartments  termed  hutches,  pn%  alyyte 
'^e  other  round  the  room..  Each  btrtcb  intended  fcir  the. does  shoald 
bave  two  divisions,  one  for  feeding  and  the  other  for  sleeping.  TIiqie^ 
are  sinele  which  are  intended  for  the  nee  of  the  weaned  r^bit^  W  Jor 
^  bttdks,  which  are  always  removed  <frmn  the  ieraals 'after  bJc^aktioB. 


Profe9ior £oif  m  Agrinfimre^-,  5^ 


**  Ther^  nhoviA  be  :^jlle  -^Iro'dgHa  tb  tke  1iiftehe»  for  the  foo4»  wlueii 
tonsists  of  com,  Imy,  rtfots,  and  green  plaiktft*  or  any  fmrmaaeous  rab* 
ttance.  Steamed  potatoes  are  an  exeelleat  food  for  the  rabbit,  as  fior 
every  kind  of  herbivorous  animal. 

'*The  female,  when  the  time  of  parturitioti  approaches,  makes  her 
pest,  for  which  hay  is  to  be  fomisbecl  her.  She  bites  it  with  her  teeth 
into  the  requisite  size.  She  generally  produces  from  £ve  to  ten  yoong.  At 
the  end  of  six  wee1cs«  the  male  is  again  admitted  feo  her,  and  the 
young  ones  weaned^  or  she  is  allowed  to  suckle  them  iqr  two  weeks 
more. 

"  They  ai'e  either  sold  froai  the  teat,  when  they  are  extremely  de* 
licate,  or  they  are  kept  on  for  a  certain  period  and  fattened.  Goo4 
and  nourishing  food  ia  to  be  supplied  to  them»  and  three  months' 
feeding  is  generally  considered  necessary  to  feed  them  properly. 
^  "  FVom  the  statement  given,  it  will  appear  that  the  rearing  and 
feeding  of  the  domestic  rabbit  is  extremely  easy,  and  that  tbere  is  no 
class  of  animals  so  prolific.  The  cultivation  of  the  animal,  however,  caa 
'only  be  carried  qn  successfully  where  there  is  a  demand  for  the  produce. 
But  if  it  were  this  Wbit  of  the  people,  the  i^BHriug  of  the  domestic  rabbit  hy 
^various  classes  in  this  couiitiy  would  funri»h,  at  little  expense,  agiatefnl 
change  of  wholesome  and  nourishing  food.'* — ^pp.  587,  588.  t 

.  The  lastchi^ter  regards  the  general  economy  of  the  farm.  Here 
we  must  stop^  after  introducing  one  extract^  the  import  of  which 
k  would  be  well  were  every  person  about  to  underlake  the  iih.- 
podrtantBnd  mnltifhrions  duties  of  a  farmer,  iiiUy  and  alteacUly  to 
weigh: — 

**  The  capita]  necessary  for  a  farm  is  the  sun  which  a  fiupmer  mast  pov^ 
'Seas,  ki  order  that  'he  may  carry  on  his  basioess.  This  partly  depends  on 
^e  eintomary  degree  ef  credit  in  a  country.  The  farmer  does  not  usually 
f«y  ready  money  for  all  the  commodities  he  xeqoires,  but  trusts  to  tbait 
•deg^e  of  credit  which  is  common  in  his  business.  And  the  same  remark 
jilpplies  to  almost' every  class  of  traders  in  this  country.  A  merchant  rarely 
luaitB  his  trade  to  the  extent  of  his  ready  money,  but  trusts  to  that  degree 
of  confidence  which  exists  ;  and  in  this-  way  the  greater  part  of  the  trade  of 
this. country  is  carried  on« 

"  In  like  manner,  the  person  who  enters  to  a  fisurm  may  not  find  it  neeeS* 
'safy  to  ]K)ssess  all  the  caipital  which  would  be  requked  were  he  to  pay  finr 
every  thing ;  yet  the  nearer  his  funds  approach  to  this  condition,  tlw^  greater 
will  be  his  security.  Too  many  engage  in  extensive  farming  on  a  loose  and 
ipiperiect  ettiomte  of  the  funds  required,  vad^d,  whan  too  late,  that  they 
liave  miscalcnkted  their  means. 

**  A  Want  of  the  necessary  funds  is  often  moreiiQurious  to  a  ikrmer,  thai& 
even  an  obligatkm  to.  pay  a  high  rent.  With  an  inadequate  capital,  be  is 
(impeded  at  every  step.  He  caaaot  render  justice  to  his  farm ;  he  must 
often  bring  his  goods  prematurely  to  market  to  supply  his  wants,  and  he 
will  pay  laigely  for  the  credit  which  he  is  compelled  to  seek,  llie  farmer 
who  has  ready  money  at  his  command  has,  like  every  other  trader,  a  great 
advantage  over  one  who  is  forced  to  seek  credit,  and  will  be  enabled  to  mal^ 
aprofit  on  many  transactions  on  which  the  other  would  sustain  a  loss. 

'*  While,  therefore,  it  cannot  be  contended  that  a  ftumer.'who  lives  -in 
^country  where^oredit  iadie  sdulof  eommeroe,  ienolto^a^^Uaiself'of  tUs 


566  .     lnflk*'lrdwuLnilBU.     r 

btnefit^yet  he  muMlke  <Ma^liiottD  mwcalcnlate  its  effbcta;  and,  at*dQt 
evwutB,  and  like  every  prudent  mao>  he  must  make  himself 'acquainted  with 
the  real  amount  of  his  pecuniary  ohligations.  This  is  the  true  principle  on 
which  the  capital  required  for  a  farm  should  h«  coinpnted.  The  sum  to 
be  determined  is  tliat  which  the  farmer  has  to  advance,  before  a  quantity  of 
producers  raised  upon  the  farm  sufficient  to  replace  the  advance,  and  sup- 
posing all  payments  to  be  in  money.'* — pp.  631,  632. 

The  amount  of  necessary  advances  differs, of  course  greatly^  ac> 
cording  to  tho  nature  of  the  farm,  the  mode  .of  management  to  be 
pursued  on  it^  and  a  multilude  of  other  circumstances,  flnoagh 
nowever  has  been  said  and  extracted  by  us,  to  satisfy  any  one 
that  the  agriculturist's  business  is  of  the  first,  importance  to  the 
welfare  of  a  nation';  that  it  has  all  the  variety  and  excitement  of  a 
fine,  nay,  noble  profession ;.  but  that  it  is  neither  child's-play,  nor 
a  safe  pursuit  for  any  one  whpse.  knowledge  or  whose  finances  are 
slight.  A  perusal  of  Professor  Low's  Elements,  must  also,  whilst 
.calculated  to  instruct  the  ignorant .  in  the  most  valuable  lessons 
of  agriculture,  shew  that  much  may  yet  be  done  for  its  advancer- 
luent,  and  that  therefore  it  is  worthy  of  the  study  ai^  services  of  the 
most  enlightened. 


Abt.  VJI. — A  Journey  throughout  Ireland  durivg  the  Spring^  Summer^ 
'  Qfid  A^umn  o/,]834,     0y  Hbnrt  D.  Inous.    Two  Vols.    Lon* 
don  :  Whittaker  &  Co.  1834. 

The  appearance  of  a  new  work  by  a  well-known  author  sets-  in 
motion  certain  anticipations  within  us,  which  may  be  favourable  or 
up&vourable,  but  which  no  doubt  silently  operate,  to  a  oertais 
extent,  in  guiding  our  judgment  of  its  merits.'  For  we  profess  not 
to  be  beyond  the  power  of  such  sympathies  as  may  filometinras 
betray  the  delicacies  rather  than  the  weaknesses  of  humanity.  It 
is  this  very  sensitive  part  of  our  nature  that  enables  us  to  appreciate 
nicely  the  character  of  a  work,  where  beauties  or  defects  may 
.decidedly,  yet  unobtrusively,  prevail.  For  example,  the  mcn^ent 
we  saw  Ireland  in  1834,  by  Henry  D.  Inglis,  upon  our  table,  a 
spiritless  and  faulty  volume,  which  had  been  previously  engaging 
and-  provoking  us^  was  laid  aside,  good  nature  recovered  its  wontra 
sway,  and  now,  said,  we,  a  pleasureable  duty  is  before  us. 

Mr.  Inglis  i)  one  of  our  favourites.     We  do  not  think  that  he  is 

oppressed  with  difRdehce  of  his  own  talents,  neither  that  he  is 

always  careful  to  withhold  a  decided  opinion  where  wiser  men 

would  Halt.     But  he  is  cniinently  well  calculated  to  write  such 

.works  as  the  one  now  to  be 'considered,  for  he  is  f<»^ard,  shrewd, 

clever,  and  talkative  ;  above  all,  he  is  honest,  serious,  and  instruc- 

\  tive.    His  knowledge  is  varied,  his  discrimination  of  character  nice, 

"his  liberality  exemplary;    yet  Jiis  regard  for  moral  and  religious 

truths  unflinching-— so  that,  take  hiih  altogether,  he  is  a  delightful 

and  valuable  .writer*..  Hia  Uveliness,  activity^  and  puritjr  are  8a<^ 


tngUs*  IrtktHlin  1834.  507 

tf  we  may  jttdge  fromhia  works,  thai  be  mtist  be  the  i«Q0t  eqterr 
taining  of  compaiHons — a  treasure  ai  a  fellow- traveller. 

Of  all  that  he  has  published  we  like  the  present  work  nie^; 
This  may  arise  from  the  peculiar  iatetest  natiirally  excited  by  the 
field  of  his  labour  ;  imparting  both  to  the  writer  and  the  reader  a 
SOTt  of  patriotic  z^al — ^^a  familiar  partiality.  What  Briton  is  there 
who  feels  iiot  ibr  Ireland  as  for  a  dear  sister,  whose  trii^ls  in  iife 
have  been  singularly  severe  and  protracted,  whose  cup  of  affliction 
and'nnguish  still  continues  to  run  over?.  The  author  i^  deeply  im- 
bued with  the  sentiments  6f  aflbction  and  commiseration.  Fain 
would  he  do  good  f6r  poor  Irejland.  Nor>eill  his  ardent  desire 
fail ;  for,  of  all  the  a<icounts  given  of  that  unhappy  country,  which 
have  come  to  our  knowledge,  this  is  by  far  the  most  honest..  The 
author  not  merely  is  honest,  but  he  has  been  at  the  titmost  pains  to 
arrive  at  the  truth ;  and  what,  greater  good  can  any  one  man  confer 
On  .Ireland  than  to  let  England  know  the  truth  concerning  her  ? 
From  the  verv  first  st^p  which  Mr.  Inglia  takes  in  the  country,  the 
readet  feels  that  nothing  is  told  but  what  has  the  irresistible  force 
(^'fidelity  stamped  upon  it.  His  own  assertion  might  have  been 
sufficient  in  testimony  of  his  honesty ;  but  a  man  may  be  blind  to 
his  strongest  partialities.  Here,  however,  we  see  no  tendency  but 
t|iat  uniform  one,  of  carefiilly  and  anxiously  searching  for  facts. 

It  is  a  field  eminent! v  worthy  of  a  philanthropic  and  an  en- 
lightened mind,  which  the  author  undertook  to  traverse  and  de- 
scribe. JBngland*s  ignorance  of  Ireland  is,  in  the  work  before  ttS| 
proved  to  be  most  gross.  This  is  owing  to  the  unhappy  spirit  o{ 
party,  which  so  broadly  and  deeply  envek>pes  the  truth,  colourings 
and  falsifying  every  partisan's  testimony;  and  to  the  difficulty 
yAifph  an  unbiassed  inquirer  thence  encounters,  when  in  search  of 
data  to  go  by,  of  arriving  at  the  real  facts.  The  author  was  ac- 
cordingly everywhere  told,  that  in  case  of  attempting  to  glean  opi- 
nions on  ail  hands,  their  contrariety  would  bewUder  him.  An 
eminent  and  talented  judge  in  Dublin  said,  that  he  could  easily 
imagine  two  well  educated  persons,  and  both  equally  free  from  pre- 
judice, returning  from  a  journey  through  Ireland,  with  views  and 
impressions  directly  opposed  to  each  other,  according  as  the  letters 
of  introduction  which  they  carried  chanced  to  be  to  men  of  one 
party  or  to  men  of  another. 

,  As  the  author  well  expresses  himself,  this  shoal,  upon  which  he 
fears  many  who  have  written  upon  Ireland  have  made  shipwreck  of 
trudi,  he  endeavoured  to  avoid,  by  obtaining  letters  to  men  of  all 
paHies,  ranks,  and  reli^ons  ;  trusting  to  be  abte  to  correct  by  mi- 
nute personal  observation,  diversities  of  opinions,  which  resolution 
it  ia  evident,  he  faithfully  and  industriously  followed  out.  He 
(»rried  from  Dublin  upwards  of  130  letters  of  introduction  to 
liersbns,  from  the  peer  to  the  farmer,  (to  the  peasant  he  introduced 
oimself) ;  and  of  all  opinions,  these  letters  again  were  most  prolific, 
begetting  in  the  course  of  the  tour  at  least  three  times  the  above 
number. '  From  the  first  letters,  and  other  circumstances,  a  general ' 


938  imfTt^' IrthH k\»9lll 

iaapmrnoa  was  .ebnveyed  that  he  meant  to  t^  the  tiuth^  vithett 
having  any  party  te  serve,  aiid  this  encouraged  men  of  all  opinioog 
to  tM  him  in  the  wb!^  of  finding  it.  So  that  the  author  was  sia« 
limkrly  wcil^eqpi^ped  km*  his  jodrney,  whether  we  considw  tibeaidi  he 
M^ved,  or  his  own  faithful  eagerness  in  reseerroh. 

"The  venr  first  paragraph  of  tibe  wdrk  ooBtains  observations  worthy 
i^the  reader^s  attention  and  eonAdence.  The  aadK>raays  it  migM 
be  an  imperttnenee  were  he  to  begin  by  any  general  assertion  of  the 
ignonmoe  of  the  British  public  req>ecting  Irdand ;  but  that  there 
tasi  he  no  impertinence  in  acknowledging  his  own  ;  that  during  his 
tour  he  found  more  to  correct  in  his  previous  impressions  and 
opinions  than  in  any  journey  he  «ver  made  through  any  country ; 
thaN;  were  he  to  exclude  from  this  ackaowledgment  the  social  con- 
dition ^  the  inhabitants,  and  4ipply  it  but  to  what  is  visible  to  the 
«ye,  the  declaration  wouM  hdd  true,  flow  ^profound  then  must 
have  been,  as  he  adds,  his  ignorance  of  all  beneath  the  sor&ce  I 
We  wish  we  could  transfer  into  our  paoes  the  entire  spirit  and 
infermation  contained  in  these  neat  volumes ;  Aere  would  be  M 
hu^'of  entertainment  for  our  readers  ;  -fer  v^ho  can  faithfully  de« 
scribe  Irish  eharactar  and  scenery,  and  not  be  entertaining  ?  Bat 
we  harve  a  higher  object  in  view  than  any  that  is  not  of  paramooaC 
ma^itude ;  and  therefore  proceed  to  do  our  best,  eonsidering  oar 
linhts,  to  make  Irelimd  in  1834  be  seen  and  known. 

The  author  arrived  in  Dublin  in  spring,  and  was  much  struck 
by  the  splendour,  ardiitectural  and  otherwise,  of  the  city.  Many 
apparoit  ptoofs  cf  wealCii  ^are  thrust  upon-Hieeye,  in  certain  parts 
of  the  metropolis,  but  a.doser  observation  brings  to  the  mind  the 
poverb,  ''  that  it  is -not  all  gold  that  glitters.'*  He  Iremarks,  that 
rf  caution  be  necessary  in -drawing  conclusions  respecting  the  wealth 
of  Dublin  fit>m  what  meets  the  eye  in  certain  street8,4eni!(dd  oantie» 
is'-required  in  drawing  any  conclusions  respecting  the  condition  cf 
Irdand,  from  even  the  real  state  ei,  Dublin.  That  Diibhn  |»'os- 
perity  is- somewhat  deceptive,  he  shows  by  stating  for  example,  that  a 
tradesman  there  sets  up  his  car  and  his  country-house,  with  a  ca- 
pital that  a  London  tradesman  would  look  upon  but  as  a  be- 
ginning for  industry  to  work  upon.  We  have  often  heard  of  the 
liflfecting  contrasts  presented  in  that  city  between  grandeur  and  po- 
verty ;  and  we  are  told  by  the  author,  that  the  paupar  pq^olatico.' 
Ittsembled -strongly  that  of  the  Spanish  towns, -supposing  the  potato 
to  be  converted  into  a  melon.  In  Liondon,  every  fifth  and  sizdi 
shop  contains  bacon  and  cheese,  in  the  naeaner  parts  ofthe  city ; 
but  a  corresponding  department  of  Dublin  presents  a  very  m-^ 
fe<ent  scene ;  for  what  would  be  the  use  of  a  bacon  shop,  ifhere  the 
lower  orders  cannot  affi>rd  to  eat  bacon  ?  Of  the  author's  mode  cf 
{fathering  facts  and  making  up  his  opinions,  the  following  is  a 
striking  example. 

*'  Aft  I  have  mentiioned  the  lower  orders  in  Dublin,  I  may  add,  that 
the  bouse  in  Which  I  lived  in  Kildare-street,  being  exactly  c^postte  to  the 
Royal  ^Dibfin  -Society,  which  was  then  exhibiting  a  cattle-show,  I  wa^ 


Jhtffiii  Ir^md  in  l«d4.  509 

m 

Ipiyourably  situated  for  observing  among  th6  cvowd  collected,  some 
of  those  little  traits  which  throw  light  upon  character  and  condition.  I  re- 
marked in  particular,  the  great  eagerness  of  every  one  to  get  a  little  em- 
ployment, and  earn  a  penny  or  two.  I  observed  another  less  eauivocal 
proof  of  low.  condition*  After  .the  cattle  had  beea  fed,  the  huf-eatea 
turnips  became  the  perquisite'  of  the  crowd  of  ragged  boys  and  girU 
without.  Many  aA.d  fierce  were  the  scrambles  for  these  precious  relics  ; 
and  a  half-gnawed  turnip,  when  once  secured,  was  guarded  with  the  most 
vigilant  jealousy,  and  was  lent  for  a  mouthful  to  another  longing  tatter- 
demaliau,  as  much  apparently  as  an  act  of  extraordinary  favour,  as  if  the 
root  had  been  a  pine-ap])le.  Yet  these  mouthfuls  were  freely  given ;  and 
I  have  seen,  that  where  two  boys  contended  who  should  take  charge  of  a 
gentleman's  horse,  the  boy  who  obtained  the  preference  and  got  liie 
penny  or  twopence,  divided  it  with  his  rival.  These  were  pleasing  traits ; 
and  were  indicative  of  that  generosity  of  character.which  displays  itself  in 
«o  many  kindly  shapes ;  but  which  is  perhaps  also  in  some  degree  tlie 
parent  of  that  improvidence,  to  which  the  ofUs  of  absenteeism  are  partly 
to  be  ascribed." — vol.  u  pp.  12,  13. 

Upon  these  facts  he  detects  a  national  trait — improvidence^  allied 
with  a  love  of  ostentation^  which  has  greatly  swelled  the  lists  of  ab* 
fientees.  .Among  our  own  friends  from  the  Emerald  isle,  some  of 
whom  adorn  and  enrich  London,  we  think  that  a  tendency  to  the  trait 
detected  by  the  author  may  be  discovered  ;  at  least  when  they  are 
contrasted  with  the  calculating  Caledonian,  the  feature  is  pro- 
minent. Mr.  Inglis  has  counted  twenty-aeven  hackney  coaches 
and  sixteen  cars,  in  the  funeral  procession  of  a  person  in  the 
humblest  walks  of  life,  with  other  circumstances  of  needless  display. 
He  bears  hearty  testimony  to  the  fascination  of  Dublin  society,  to 
the  hospitality  that  characterises  the  inhabitants^  and  to  the.  beauty 
of  the  eity.  But  as  it  wto  his  object  rather  to  search  for  deeper 
and  wider  grounds  as  respects  the  real  condition  of  the  country,  it 
ivill  b^  ours  to  fix  upon  those  parts  of  the  work  that  seem  most 
distitKitly^  to  elucidate  this  design.  Before  leaving  Dublin,  however^ 
we  must  quote  pert  of  what  is  said  concerning  the  Mendicity  Society, 
which  we  with  him  trust  is  not  to  be  a  permanent  one ;  though^ 
whilst  there  is  no  legal  provision  for  even  the  aged  and  infirm, 
something  of  the  kind  is  no  doubt  praiseworthy. 

•'When  I  visited  the  Dublin  Mendicity  Society,  there  were  2,145  per- 
sons on  the  charity,  of  whom  200  were  Protestants.  The  finai>ces  were 
tbeii  at  a  very  low  ebb  ;  and  the  directors  of  the  institution  were  threat- 
ening a  procession  of  the  ntendicants  through  the  Streets,  by  way  of  warm- 
ing the  charity  of  the  spectators.  This,  I  understood,  has-  once  or  twice 
been  resorted  to ;  and  1  confess,  I  cannot  conceive  any  thiug  more  dis- 
graceful to  a  civilised  community.  The  Euglish  reader,  who  has  never 
visited  Ireland,  can  have  no,  conception  of  a  Sj)ectacle  such  as  this.  What 
.a  contrast  to  the  gaiety  of  Graf  ton-street,  would  be  the  filth,  and  rags, 
and  absolute  nakedness,  which  I  saw  concentrated  in  the  court  of  the 
tnstitutiou !  The  support  of  this  charity  is  a  heavy  tax  upon  the  bene- 
volent feelings  of  the  Protestant  population :  50/.  is  subscribed  by  the 
Protestant,  for  1/.  that  is  subscribed  by  the  Catholic  population.     1  was 

VOL.  III.   (1834.)   NO.  IV.  o  o 


tbrry  to  learn  this ;  fur  although  it  be  trae  that  wealth  lie*  MdLymlMrttgK 
the  Protestants,  yet  it  is  the  middle  classes,  rather  than  the  wealthy,  who 
supports  this  institution ;  and  50/.  for  I/,  is  surely  out  of  proporti0Ci/'— * 
▼ol.i.  pp.  16,  17. 

He  saw  some  of  these  poor  people  at  work  for  a  few  pence  per 
week ;  but  hundreds  for  wnom  no  employment  could  be  found,  were 
lying  and  sitting  in  the  court,  waiting  for  the  mess  which  had 
tempted  them  from  their  hovels. 

After  leaving  Dublin  the  author  proceeds  towards  Wicklow, 
where  he  expected,  from  what  had  been  told  him  in  the  metropolis, 
that  the  labourers  were  all  employed  and  tolerably  comfortable. 

"  I  Am  only  beginning  my  journey :  this  is  but  the  cocinty  of  Wicklow ; 
and  I  was  told  that  I  should  find  all  so  comfortable  in  Wicklow,  that  from  the 
comparatively  happy  condition  of  the  peasantry  there,  1  must  be  caotioos 
in  forming  my  opinion  of  the  peasantry  generally.  While  I  write  this 
sentence,  I  write  in  utter  ignorance  of  what  I  may  yet  see :  for  I  write 
this  work  almost  in  the  manner  of  a  diary — ^noting  down  my  otwervations 
from  week  to  week :  but  from  what  I  have  idready  seen,  I  am  entitled  t»fltDg 
back  with  indignation  the  assertion,  that  all  the  Irish  industrious  poor  may 
find  emplo\  ment.  But  what  employment  ?  employment  which  affords  one 
stone  of  dry  potatoes  a  day  for  a  woman  and  her  four  children. 

"  A  labourer  in  this  county  considers  himself  fortunate  in  having  daily 
employment  at  sixpence  throughout  the  year  ;*  and  many  are  not  so 
fortunate.  I  found  some  who  received  only  fivepence ;  but  there  are.many 
who  cannot  obtain  constant  employment,  and  these  have  occasional  labour 
attenpence  or  one  shilling;  but  this  only  for  a  few  weeks  at  a  time.  I 
found  the  small  farmers  living  very  little  more  comfortable  than  the  labour- 
ers. A  little  buttermilk  added  to  the  potatoes,  made  the  chief  differeoce." 
•—vol.  i.  pp.  82,  33. 

Many  of  the  cabins  he  visited  boasted  a  pig,  which  sometimes 
dwelt  with  the  femily,  where,  as  Paddy  says,  ^'  he  has  the  best  right 
to  be,  since  it's  he  that  pays  the  rent."  High  rent  is  the  univenal 
complaint,  and  this  is  fiilly  borne  out  by  the  manner  in  whidi  the 
people,  both  Catholic  and  Protestant  were  found  living.  When 
asked,  why  they  take  land  at  a  rate  ^hich  they  cannot  pay,  the  re- 
ply k,  "  How  were  they  to  live  ?  what  could  they  do?"  So  that 
Mr.  Inglis  declares,  competition  for  land  in  Ireland  is  bat  the  oitt- 
biddings  of  desperate  circumstances. 

We  know  not  what  others  may  argue  from  the  following  expres- 
sions of  the  author'd^  opinion  regarding  a  Catholic  institation  in 
Waterford.  We,  who  are  not  of  that  communion,  may  be  too  par- 
tial to  the  views  of  one  of  our  own  creed,*  and  prepossessed  when 
we  think  he  is  singularly  impartial  in  his  statements  on  such  deli- 
cate ground  as  is  uniformly  introduced  by  religious  opinions.  It  is 
fair,  however,  that  the  reader  may  have  a  specimen  of  what  is  here 
set  down  on  a  point  where  no  doubt  there  is  much  di^rence  of 
sentiment. 

"  Tliere  are  in  Waterford  several  large  pi:^c  institutions ;  particalaiiy. 
an  House  of  Industry*  which  appear  to  be  under  good  management,  thottgh 


fnflW  Irskmd  in  1894.  il  I 

die  ynxkl  of  a  iieparaA^  place  for  lunatics  is  very  objectionable^  and  i^ 
mendicity  society,  tbe  same  in  principle  as  tbat  in  Dublin,  but  exhibiting 
father  less  ^Ith  and  wretchedness.  But  the  most  important  institution 
which  I  visited,  was  a  Catholic  school,  at  which  upwards  of  seven  hun- 
dred children  were  instructed.  This  is  a  new  establishment,  called  by 
aome,  monk-houses ;  and  is  an  association  of  young  men,  who  dedicate 
their  lives  to  the  instruction  of  youth,  and  who  call  themselves  *  Brothers 
of  the  Christian  Schools,'  It  is,  in  fact,  a  monastic  institution,  bound  by 
vows,  like  other  orders:  and  although  I  am  far  from  questioning  ^e 
motives,  either  of  the  founder,  Mr.  Hice,  or  of  the  young  men  who  thus 
make  a  sacrifice  of  themselves ;  yet  I  cannot  regard  favourably  an  institu- 
tion under  such  tuition.  I  know  too  much  of  Catholicism,  in  other  coun- 
tries, to  doubt  that  intellectual  education  will  be  made  very  secondary  to 
theological  instruction ;  and  although  I  am  very  far  from  ascribing  all,  or  any- 
large  portion  of  the  evils  of  Ireland  to  the  prevalence  of  the  Roman  Catholic 
faith,  yet  I  would  rather  not  see  a  system  of  education  extensively  pur- 
sued, in  which  the  inculcation  of  Popish  tenents  form  the  chief  feature. 
These  schools  are  established  in  many  other  towns  besides  Waterlbrd ; 
said  where  I  meet  with  them,  I  shall  not  fail  to  notice  them.  There  are 
at  present,  ninety  nembevs  of  the  order  of  '  Brothers  <^  the  Christian 
Schools  ;V  and  their  number  is  n^iidly  increasing/' — vol.  i.  pp.  65,  66.  ^ 

We  are  informed  that  whiskey-drinking  prevails  to  a  dreadful 
extent  in  Waterford ;  that  out  of  30,000  inhabitaats,  25,000  are 
Catholics  ;  that  the  blind  pdicy  of  Irish  landlords  is  in  many  in- 
stances hostile  to  the  establishment  of  manufactories,  although  such 
must  tend  to  keep  up  their  rents.  Near  the  village  of  Mayfield, 
Mr.  Malcomson  has  established  a  cotton  manufactcH*y,  which 
proves  a  blessing  of  the  most  signal  kind  to  the  neighbourhood.  No 
fewer  than  900  persons  are  employed  in  it,  whose  lodging,  food,  and 
morals  have  been  wonderfully  improved.     Yet — 

**  I  regretted  deeply  to  learn,  not  from  the  proprietor  of  the  mill  only, 
but  from  other  sources,  that  Lord  Waterford's  family  have  thrown  every 
obstacle  in  the  way  of  this  estabhshment ;  and  that,  only  the  other  day, 
an  attempt  had  been  made  to  take  advantage  of  soqie  manorial  rights,  and 
to  demoKsh  the  mill  dams.  Pity  it  is,  that  the  aristocracy  should,  even 
by  open  acts,  separate  themselves  from  the  interests  of  the  people  around 
them.  The  enteiprising  Quaker  who  has  established  this  factory,  has  done 
more  for  the  neighbourhood,  than  Lord  Waterford  and  all  the  Beresfords 
kave  ever  done ;  and  his  lordship's  pride  ought  to  be,  less  in  his  magnifi- 
cent domain,  and  fine  stud,  than  in  the  comlbrtable  condition  of  the  sur- 
rounding peasantry,  and  in  the  establishment  which  has  produced  it." — 
vol.  i,  p.  70. 

We  know  not  what  a  change  of  ministry  may  bring  about ;  but 
the  defeat  of  the  Waterfiooxl  fiunily  in  the  election  for  the  county 
has  operated  wholesomely  for  some  time.  The  author  says  that 
they  felt  it  severely,  and  that  more  attention  has  since  been  paid  to 
the  interests  of  the  tenantry. 

In  Kilkenny  tbe  author  found  the  most  wide-spread  and  most 
siggrmvated  misorj.     Out  of  a  population  of  about  25,000,  ha  iraa 

ooi 


il2  Inglii*  Irekmd  in  1834. 

en&bled  to  know  that  upwards  of  2,000  were  totaDy  withoat  em^ 

ployment. 

"  It  chanced  that  I  was  at  Kilkenny  just  after  the  dehate  on  the  Repeal 
question ;  in  which  the  prosperity  of  Ireland  was  illustrated,  by  reference 
to  that  of  Kilkenny,  of  whose  prosperous  maifufactures  honourable  mention 
was  made,  condescending  even  upon  the  number  of  water  wheels  at  wori[, 
which  were  said  to  be  eleven  in  number ;  and  the  carpet  manufiictory  too, 
was  spoken  of  in  such  terms,  that  it  was  said  to  be  owing  to  its  success 
that  the  weavers  of  Kidderminster  had  petitioned  for  repeal.  I  visited 
these  prosperous  factories,  immediately  after  the  account  I  have  mentioned 
was  received  :  the  principal  of  these  factories  used  to  support  tuQ  hundred 
men  with  their  families  :  it  was  at  eleven  o'clock,  a  fair  working  hour,  that 
I  ^nsited  these  mills,  and  how  many  men  did  I  find  at  work  ?  Onb  man  ! 
And  how  many  of  the  eleven  wheels  did  1  find  going  ? — onb  ;  and  that  one, 
not  for  the  purpose  of  driving  machinery,  but  to  prevent  it  from  rotting.'* 
— vol.  i.  pp.  91,  92. 

We  find  the  number  of  disheartening  pictures  so  great  that  we 
cannot  afibrd  many  more  in  this  part  of  the  author's  journey. 
What  sort  of  landlord  should  we  think  him  to  be,  who  is' enriched 
as  here  described,  were  he  found  to  act  so  in  England  ? 

"  I  had  heard,  even  in  England,  of  the  wretched  condition  of  a  town  in 
the  county  of  Kilkenny,  called  Callen  ;  and  finding  that  this  town  was  but 
eight  miles  from  Kilkenny,  I  devoted  a  day  to  GaUeu.  I  never  travelled 
through  a  more  pleasing  and  smiling  country,  than  that  which  lies  between 
Kilkenny  and  Callen ;  and  I  never  entered  a  town  reflecting  so  much  dis- 
grace upon  the  owner  of  it,  as  this.  In  so  execrable  a  condition  are  the 
streets  of  this  town,  that  the  mail  coach,  in  passing  through  it,  is  allowed 
twelve  minutes  extra :  an  indulgence  which  can  surprise  no  one  i»  Ko 
drives,  or  rather  attempts  to  drive  through  the  street ;  for  no  one  who  has 
the  use  of  his  limbs,  would  consent  to  be  driven.  And  yet,  will  it  be  cre- 
dited, that  a  toll  is  levied  on  the  entrance  into  the  town,  of  every  article  of 
consumption  ;  and  that  not  one  shilling  of  the  money  so  received  is  laid 
out  for  the  benefit  of  the  town.  The  potatos,  coal,  butter-milk,  with 
which  the  poor  wretches  who  inhabit  this  place  supply  their  necessities, 
are  subject  to  a  toll,  which  used  to  produce  250/.  per  annum  ;  but  which, 
having  been  resisted  by  some  "spirited  and  prying  person,  who  questioned 
the  right  of  toll,  the  receipts  have  been  since  considerably  diminished.  It 
was  with  some  difficulty  that  I  obtained  a  sight  of  the  table  of  tolls ;  but  I 
insisted  on  my  right  to  see  it,  and  satisfied  myself,  that  potatos  and  butter- 
milk, the  food  of  the  poor,  pay  a  toU  to  Lord  Clifton,  who,  out  of  the  re- 
venue of  about  20,000/.  per  annum,  which  he  draws  from  this  ne^htK>ur- 
hood,  lays  out  not  one  farthing  for  the  benefit  of  his  people." — ^vol.  i.  pp. 
97,  98. 

The  following  passage  may  in  some  respects  be  taken  as  a  com- 
panion to  the  former  extract ;  whilst  pointing  towards  another  curseof 
Ireland  besides  that  of  hard-hearted  landlords,  it  goes  to  establish 
the  author's  impartiality. 

"  Cashel  is  rather  a  pretty  town :  the  principal  street  is  wide  and  well 
built :  but  the  place  is  far  from  being  in  a  flourishing  condition.  It  waa 
formerly  a  place  of  much  resort,  and  consequent  prosperity ;  but  it  is  now 


.  In^u'  Ireland  m  183:1.  ^Id 

dmost  i'&tirdy  an  absentee  town;  and  I  found  every  thing  extremely  dull» 
and  things  getting  daily  vi  orse.  Wages  were  here  only  eight-pence  a 
day  without  diet,  and  numbers  were  altogether  without  einployment.  The 
population  of  Cashel  is,  at  present,  about  7,000 ;  and  the  number  of  Pro^ 
testaut  communicants  about  150.  I  was  sorry  to  hear  bad  accounts  of  the 
Protestant  archbishop.  I  found  him  universally  disliked,  even  by  those 
dependent  upon  him,  and  of  the  same  religious  persuasion.  He  does  no 
good ;  and  by  all  accounts,  is  a  close  hard  man,  in  every  sense  far  overpaid 
by  the  10  or  12,000/.  a  year  which  he  enjoys.  He  has  the  disadvantage, 
indeed,  of  being  compared  with  his  predecessor,  whom  all,  Protestant  and 
Catholic,  unite  in  praising." — vol.  i.  pp.  1 10,  111. 

Here  is  another  important  statement. 

*'  I  heard  but  one  opinion  as  to  the  necessity  of  a  Coercion  Bill.  Almost 
every  outrage  and  murder  that  has  disgraced  Ireland,  has  arisen  out  of  one 
of  two  causes — either  competition  for  land,  or  tithes  ;  and,  until  means  be 
found  for  reducing  the  former,  and  till  the  latter  be  finally  and  justly  set- 
tled, it  will  be  in  the  power  of  a  restless,  wrongheaded,  or  interested  man 
to  agitate  Ireland.  Competition  for  land  can  only  be  diminished  by  em- 
ploying the  people ;  hut  I  greatly  fear,  that  no  scrutiny,  however  strict  and 
impartial,  into  the  revenues  of  the  Protestant  church,  and  that  even  no  ap- 
plication of  the  surplus,  will  be  satisfactory  to  the  land  occupiers  of 
Ireland.  Here,  as  every  where  else,  in  the  south,  I  heard  the  strongest 
-  objections  to  tithe  in  any  shape ;  and  a  curious  instance  came  to  my 
knowledge,  of  the  determination  of  farmers  to  get  rid  of  tithe.  A  farmer 
agreed  to  pay  30f .  an  acre  for  a  certain  quantity  of  land,  the  landlord 
being  bound  to  pay  tithe  and  all  other  dues.  On  rent  day  the  tenant 
arrives,  and,  before  paying  his  rent,  asks  what  tithe  the  landlord  pays? 
'Why  do  you  wish  to  know  that  ?'  says  the  landlord  ;  '  what  is  it  to  you. 
what  tithe  I  pay  ?  you  pay  me  30^.,  and  I  take  tithe  and  every  burden  off 
your  hand.'  *  I  know  that,'  says  the  farmer ;  *  but  PU  not  only  not  pay 
tithe  myself,  but  your  honour  shan't  pay  it  either.'  The  tenant  offered 
the  landlord  his  rent,  deducting  whatever  tithe  he,  the  landlord,  paid ; 
and  the  rent  is,  at  this  moment,  unpaid." — vol.  i.  pp.  116 — 1 18. 

The  absentee  landlords  are  not  all  bad  \  neither  can  we  properly 
call  him  an  absentee  whose  principal  property  lays  out  of  Ireland. 
Of  this  honourable  number,  it  is  with  pleasure  we  find  Mr.  Stanley 
figuring,  whose  estates  in  Tipperary  the  author  declares  ara  well 
managed,  the  rents  are  moderate,  the  tenantry  well  treated,  and 
a  library  has  been  formed  for  their  benefit.  We  hope  that  the  fol- 
lowing piece  of  tyranny  witnessed  at  Cahir  is  not  of  firequent  oc- 
currence. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  be  obliged,  in  this  place,  to  record  a  £Bict,  to  which  I 
could  not  have  given  credit  on  any  evidence  less  conclusive  than  that  of 
my  own  eyes.  l*he  Roman  Catholic  chapel  is  newly  erected,  and  is  yet 
unfinished :  and  I  was  told,  that  the  anxiety  to  obtain  funds  for  its  com- 
pletion, gave  rise  to  the  enaction  of  some  curious  scenes  at  the  door.  I 
went  there  about  ten  o'clock ;  and  I  certainly  did  witness  a  scene  of  a 
most  singular  kind,  llie  gates  were  shut,  and  fout  men  stood  by.  One 
had  a  silver  salver  to  receive  the  larger  contributions:  two  were 
provided  with  wooden  ladles,  for  tl>e  copper  offerings ;  and  these  they 


514  tnglii*  Ireland  in  1884. 

shook  in  the  ears  of  every  one  who  approached :  and  one  man,  the  prie!^ 
stood,  just  withii^the  gate,  armed  with  a  shillelah.  ^No  one  was  admit' 
ted  who  did  not  contribute !  I  «atv  a  man  attempt  to  pass  withont  con- 
tributing ;  and  I  saw  the  priest  pnsL  and  buffet  the  man,  and,  at  length, 
strike  him  several  times  with  his  stick,  and  knock  his  hat  off  his  h«d! 
This  is  no  matter  of  hearsay.  I  saw  it ;  and  I  saw  from  thirty  to  forty 
persons  kneelii^  outside  of  the  gate,  on  the  high  road — poor  personsr 
who  had  not  a  halfpenny  to  spiire.  To  be  more  and  more  sure,  that  thn 
was  the  cause  of  their  remaining  without,  I  gave  some  halfpence  amongst 
tihem,  and  saw  them  admitted/' — vcl.  t.  pp.  125,  126. 

Before  laying  aside  the  first  volume,  which  our  limits  advertise  us 
immediately  to  do,  (for  we  cannot  do  more  than  put  our  finger  od 
some^of  the  landmark  evils  and  characteristics  of  Ireland  as  noted  by 
Mr.  Inglis),  we  must  let  our  readers  see  what  is  said  of  the  mighty 
Dan. 

'*  I  was  now  in  O'Connell  s  country :  here  was  the  property  of  Daniel 
O'Gonnell  Esq.,  or  the  Liberator,  as  the  people  called  him ;  there,  the 
fnroperty  of  Charles  0*Connell,  Esq. ;    and  diere  again,    the    property 
of  another  O'Connell :  but  the  greater  part  of  the  O'Connell  property — 
almost  all  that  of  the  O'ConneU,  is  held  under  head  landlords ;  and  he  a 
only  an  extensive  middle-man.     Near  to  Cahir^siveen,  is  the  birth -place 
of  the  great  agitator.     It  is  a  ruined  house,  situated  in  a  hollow  near  to 
the  road  ;  and  when  I  reached  the  spot,  the  driver  oi  the  car  polled  up, 
and  inquired  whether  I  would  like  to  visit  the  house.     But  the  driver  of 
my  car  was  not  a  native  of  these  parts  ;  fsr  be  it  knovm  to  the  reader, 
that  O'Connell  is  less  popular  in  his  own  country  than  he  is  elsewhere. 
If  you  ask  an  inkeeper,  or  an  inkeeper's  wife,  any  where  in  O'Connett's 
district,  what  sort  of  a  man  their  landlord  is  ?     '  Och,  and  sure  he's  the 
best  cf  landlords — ^he  takes  the  childer  by  the  hand,  and  he  would'nt  be 
over  proud  to  dthrink  tay  with  the  landlady.'  But  if  you  step  into  a  cabin, 
the  holder  of  which  owns  Daniel  O'Connell,  Esq.,  as  his  landlord,  and 
if  you  asluthe  same  question,  hell  scratch  his  head,  and  say  little  any  way. 
Shortly  before  I  visited  Cahir-siveen,  there  was  a  road-presentation  in  tint 
neighbourhood,  and  the  rate  payers,  who  have  now  a  vote  in  these  matten, 
refused  at  first  to  pass  it,  unless  the  0*Connells  would  pay  two-thirds  of 
the  expense ;  because,  said  they,  *  the  O'Connells  have  livei  long  enough 
out  of  road  presentations  !  I'**— vol.  i.  pp.  235 — 287. 

It  would  be  wrong  to  pass  over  three  passages  at  the  ckwe  of  Ae 
volume ;  Longford  is  the  oounty  spoken  of. 

"  From  time  to  time,  considerable- emigration  has  taken  place  from  thia 
part  of  Ireland  to  America ;  and  it  is  not  unusnal  for  remittances  to  be  sent 
home  from  the  colonies,  by  those  who  have  emigrated,  for  the  use  of  their 
poor  relatives.  Now  it  is  a  curious  fact,  and  a  fact  that  consists  with  my 
knowledge,  that  Catholic  emigrants  send  their  remittances  to  tiie  care,  not 
of  the  Catholic  priest,  but  of  the  Protestant  clergyman,  to  be  dwtributed 
by  him  among  those  pointed  out.  The  same  respect  for,  and  rdiance  an» 
the  Protestant  clergyman,  is  evinced  in  other  ways.  It  is  not  at  aU  un- 
usual for  Catholics  possessed  of  a  little  money,  to  leave  the  Pjrotestant 
clergyman  their  executor,  in  preference  to  their  own  priest,  or  to  any  odnr 
individual."— -vol.  i.  p.  347. 


Infflis'  Irekmd  m  1S34.  £15 

Mr.  Inglis  oonsid^s  it  to  be  most  important  to  the  civilizatioa  of 
Ireland^  that  a  better  order  of  Catholic  priesthood  should  be  raised. 
At  present  he  says  they  are  reared  at  Ma^ooth  in  monkish  bi- 
gotry. But  he  does  not  spare  the  estabbshment  when  occasion 
calls. 

"  I  found  in  one  part  of  this  coanty,  great  want  of  accommodation  for 
the  Protestant  oougregation.  I  allude  to  the  parish  '  of  the  Union  of  Kil* 
glass.'  There  is  monstrous  abuse  here.  The  bishop  is  rector,  and  draws 
from  four  to  five  hundred  pounds  per  annum ;  and  yet  there  is  no  church, 
or  Protestant  service  in  the  parish.  His  lordship,  on  being  respectfully 
written  to  on  the  subject,  replied,  that  there  wss  service  in  the  next 
parish  !" — ^^vol.  i.  p.  349. 

How  can  crime  be  repressed  so  long  as  such  a  state  of  things 
exists,  as  is  thus  described  ? 

**  Trading  magistrates  are  not  yet  extinct  in  the  county  Longford :  value 
is  still  occasionedly  receivetl  for  magisterial  protection,  in  the  shape  of 
labour — such  as,  a  winter-cutting  of  turf  being  brought  to  a  man's  door. 
Neither  is  there  much  co-operation  among  the  magistracy.  They  take 
pleasure  in  thwarting  each  other ;  and  it  is  not  unusual  for  persons  im- 
prisoned by  the  warrant  of  one  magistrate,  to  be  forthwith  liberated  by 
the  warrant  of  another.** — vol  i.  pp.  349,  350. 

As  the  author,  near  the  beginning  of  the  second  volume,  ap- 
proaches Galway,  he  takes  occasion  to  mention,  that  in  Ireland  men 
of  moderate  views,  between  the  extremes  of  high  Catholic  and  high 
Conservative,  are  on  the  increase ;  not  men  of  an  imbecile  policy, 
but  who  reprobate  all  preferences  of  any  party.  This  opinion  sug- 
gests to  us,  what  indeed  is  enforced  by  every  thing  contained  m 
these  volumes,  that  it  is  not  any  one  single  evil  that  can  be  named 
which  frets  and  poisons  Ireland,  but  the  whole  frame  is  in  disordei^; 
which  the  Legislature  cannot  cure  by  any  fiat  it  may  put  forth. 
Could  the  whole  body  of  the  people  be  convinced  that  their  regene- 
ration must  chiefly  depend  on  themselves,  on  their  own  earnest 
exertions  to  do  away  with  the  factions  among  them,  health  would 
recover  part  of  its  sway,  coercive  measures  would  be  slackened, 
private  morals  would  gain  a  firm  footing,  and  respect  for  the  laws 
make  the  country  a  safe  habitation  for  the  great  proprietors.  But 
this  hon^e- wrought  regeneration  is  not  likely  to  be  of  sudden  ope- 
ration, and  we  fear  a  distant  day  must  be  looked  to  for  Ireland's 
prosperity. 

On  leaving  Galway,  the  author  for  a  while  leaves  the  more  civi- 
lised part  of  Ireland  behind  him,  to  travel  through  Cunnemara  and 
Joyce's  country,  without  any  such  incumbrances  as  might  impede  a 
pedestrian's  journey.  In  these  wild  regions  he  was  present,  where 
a  pattern  was  held,  high  up  amongst  the  mountains.  It  was  ori- 
ginally a  religious  ceremony,  but  it  is  chiefly  now  resorted  to  for  re- 
creation, which  generally  ends  in  drunkenness  and  fighting. 

"  Everybody  in  this  part  of  tb^  country  is  called  Joyce;  and  the  spot 
where  the  pattern  is  held,  is  claimed  by  the  Joyces,  to  be  in  Joyce's  coun- 


51^  Ifigli*'  Ireland  in  18^4. 

try,  but  this  is  not  admitted  by  tbe  Contieinara  boys;  and  iJKXxtilaSfjtf, 
two  factions — the  Joyces  and  their  opponents — usually  hold  patterns  nesr 
the  same  ground,  though  not  close  together ;  but  yet  so  near  as  to  make  it 
impossible  that  the  meetin<^  should  break  up  without  a  scrimmage.  The 
Joyces  are  a  magnificent  race  of  men:  the  biggest,  and  stoutest,  and* tallest 
I  have  seen  in  Ireland*  eclipsing  even  the  peasantry  of  the  Tyrol;  and  I 
believe,  Indeed,  their  claims  on  this  head  are  universally  admitted.  I  <^hall, 
by  and  by,  have  an  opportunity  of  introducing  the  reader  to  hig  Jack  Jmfce, 
when  I  visit  him  in  his  own  house." — ^vol  ii.  pp.  48,  49. 

The  author  was  warmly  welcomed  by  many.  There  might  be  a 
score  of  tents,  and  hunclreds  of  persons  were  seated  on  the  grass 
or  stones,  whilst  some  of  the  older  people  were  on  their  knees,  beside 
the  holy  well.  By  and  by  symptoms  of  a  quarrel  arose,  and  our 
author  stepped  aside,  that  he  might  witness  a  regular  faction 
fight. 

"  Any  one,  to  see  an  Irish  fight  for  the  first  time,  would  conclude  that  a 
score  or  two  must  inevitably  be  put  hors-de-combnt.  The  very  flourish  ci 
a  regular  sliillelah,  and  the  shout  that  accompanies  it,  seem  to  be  the  im- 
mediate precursors  of  a  fractured  skull ;  but  the  afifiedr,  though  bad  enough, 
is  not  so  fatal  as  it  appears  to  be:  the  shillelahs,  no  doubt,  do  sometimes 
descend  upon  a  head,  which  is  forthwith  a  broken  head ;  but  they  oftener 
descend  upon  each  other;  and  the  fight  spon  becomes  one  of  personal 
strengtli.  The  parties  close  and  grapple ;  and  the  most  powerful  man 
throws  his  adversary:  fair  play  is  but  little  attended  to:  two  or  three  cftea 
attack  a  single  man  ;  nor  is  there  a  cessation  of  blows,  even  when  a  man 
is  on  the  ground.  On  the  present  occasion  five  or  six  were  disabled,  but 
there  was  no  homicide;  and  after  a  scrimmage^  which  histed  perhaps  ten 
minutes,  the  Joyces  remained  masters  Of  the  field.  The  wotuen  took  so 
part  in  the  fight,  but  they  are  not  always  so  backward ;  it  is  chiefly,  how- 
ever, when  stones  are  the  weapons,  that  women  take  a  part,  by  supplying 
the  combatants  with  missiles.  When  the  fight  ended  there  were  not  many 
remaining,  excepting  those  who  were  still  in  the  tents,  and  who  chanced 
to  be  of  neither  faction.  Most  of  the  women  had  left  the  place  when  the 
quarrel  began,  and  some  of  the  men  too.  I  noticed,  after  the  fight,  that 
some  who  had  been  opposed  to  each  other  shook  hands  and  kissed,  and 
appeared  as  good  friends  as  before." — vol.  ii.  pp.  51,  52. 

It'  would  appear  that  in  this  hill  country  the  small  land  owners 
are  in  much  more  comfortable  circumstances  than  those  of  the  flat 
and  the  fertile  districts.  "  Neither  here  nor  in  any  part  of  Ireland," 
says  the  author,  ^^  need  a  stranger  be  afraid  to  travel.  Potheen  is 
very  generally  distilled  illicitly  throughout  Ireland,  and  among  the 
mountains  there  are  plenty  of  places  .where  the  still  is  a  point  of 
concentration  for  gossip  and  drinking,  and  no  reckoning  to  pay,  as 
almost  every  landholder  there  distils  for  himself.  It  is  easy  to  see 
what  influence  such  an  abundance  of  poison  to  the  morals  must  have 
pver  old  and  young  ;  so  that  this  evil  must  carry  with  it  the  most 
disastrous  efiects  in  a  national  point  of  view.  Indeed,  every  chapter 
of  the  work  before  us  presents  more  that  is  to  be  blamed  than 
praised  ;  and  whikt  so  many  evils  unite,  will  Ireland  be  wretched. 


ImgW  Ireland  in  l^i^,  517 

We  must  commend  the  author  not  ooily  for  telEng  truthd^  bat  for 
telhng^em  in  the  way  he  does ;  not  even  avoiding  to  give  the 
landlords  by  name,  whom  he  praises  or  blamed ;  for  this  may 
produce  good,  as  he  says.  General  statements  carry  little  weight 
with  them  ;  and  why  should  he  confound  the  good  with  the  bad  ? 

"  The  chief  proprietors  of  the  town  of  ,Sligo  are  Lord  Palmerston  and 
Mr.  Wynn.  The  lan^  in  the  barony,  especially  Mr.  Wynnls,  is  let  ei^ 
tremely  hiph.  Mr.  Wynn's  tenants  are,  with  very  few  exceptions,  in 
arrcar ;  but  he  is  one  of  those  short-sighted  landlords,  who  is  resolved  at 
all  costs  to  keep  up  the  nominal  amount  of  bis  rent-roll.  His  rents  are 
taken  in  dribbles — in  shillings  and  copper ;  and  agents  have  been  known 
to  accompany  tenants  to  market  with  their  produce,  lest  any  part  of  its 
•  value  should  escape  the  landlord's  pocket.  This  gentleman  has  been  at 
,great  piedns  to  establish  a  Protestant  tenantry  on  his  estate ;  and  in  the 
appearance  of  their  houses,  &c.,  there  is  some  neatness,  and  some  shew  of 
comfort ;  but  these  are  not  in  reality  in  any  better  cpnditit)n  than  the  other 
tenantry.  None  of  them  are  able  t<>  do  more  than  barely  to  subsist;  and 
they,  as  well  as  the  Catholic  tenantry,  are  genehdly  in  arrear ;  indeed,  1 
found  no  one  exception.  The  whole  land  in  this  barony  averages  2/.  bs. 
per  acre.  In  the  county,  it  is  supposed,  that  excluding  bog  and  mountain 
land,  it  averages  26^. ;  and  good  cultivated  land  may  average  2/.  There 
is  no  living,  and  paying  such  rents. 

"  Lord  Palmerston's  property  is  an  honourable  exception.  On  an  estate 
between  Sl^go  and  Ballyshannon,  his  Lordship  expends  more  in  improve- 
ments— in  roads,  drains,  piers,  corn  stores,  &c.  than  the  amount  of  the 
whole  revenue  of  the  estate.  In  every  way  improvements,  and  an  improv- 
ing tenantry  are  encouraged  *,  and  the  people  on  that  estate  are  in  a  com- 
paratively comfortable  condition.  This  is  one  of  the  few  instances  I  found 
in  which  the  tenantry  on  an  estate  were  allowed  to  benefit  by  the  advan- 
tages and  improvements  of  the  district." — ^yol.  ii,  pp.  125,  126. 

Mr.  Inglis  was  impressed  repeatedly  in  his  progress  through 
Ireland  with  another  disheartening  appearance.  Amongst  the 
conntry  people,  the  affections  between  man  and  wifo,  he  considered 
to  be  unequal  to  what  adorns  domestic  life  in  the  humbler  spheres  in 
Britain.  We  were  hardly  prepared  for  this  statement,  and  trust 
that  it  has  been  rashly  maae.  The  Irish  probably  exhibit  their  ^ 
attachment  in  different  ways  to  what  the  author  is  familiar  with ; 
for  certainly  they  have  been  called  a  people  of  ardent,  it  may  be, 
hasty  and  unstable  affection.  Still,  Mr.  Inglis  has  had  ample  op- 
portunities for  seeing  a  good  deal  of  their  homely  manners  ;  and  if 
ne  be  in  the  right,  there  is  here  to  be  found  not  a  little  which  goes 
to  colour  the  condition  of  the  people  of  Ireland.  His  theory  as  to 
some  of  the  most  effectual  means  of  benefiting  that  disordered 
country,  may  in  a  great  measure  be  gathered  from  the  following 
sentences. 

"  1  am  not  one  of  those  who  ascribe  cdl  the  eviU  of  Ireland  to  Popery ; 
but  1  am  one  of  those  who  think  Protestantism  the  better  religion  for  the 
people,  and  the  safer  for  the  state  ;  and  think  also,  that  it  ought  to  have 
been,  and  ought  still  to  be,  the  study  of  government  to  encourage  febe 
growth  of  Protestantism  by  every  wise  and  legitimate  means ;  nor  can  I 


516  ^  l»9im'  Inelmd  m  iSUM. 

let  dip  tbia  opportuBity  of  obterviag,  ftom  all  I  huve  aeeii  a&d  learned  ia 
li^elaed*  that  one  of  the  Bio«t  certain  means  of  increasiag  Protestantifim  ia 
Ireland  will  be  sudt  measuree  of  reform  in  the  Irish  church  aa  will  encou- 
sage  aad  reward  the  working  clergy,  at  the  expense  of  those  who  do  not 
or  who  will  not  work :  as  will  sweep  away  pluralities,  and  forbid  non- 
residence  ;  as  will  place  Protestant  education  on  a  better  footing ;  and  as 
^rill  provide  for  the  final  and  effectual  settlement  of  the  tithe  question.'' — 
vol.  ii,  pp.  164,  165. 

After'  one  long  extract,  we  most  close  Mr.  Inglis'  work.  It 
respects  a  comparison  of  the  northern  or  Protestant  counties  of 
Ireland,  with  the  southern  or  Catholic  counties,  in  reference  to  their 
appearances  and  conditions.  He  admits  that  generally  there  is  a 
niarked  difiisrence  in  the  appeanmee  of  theProteateit  distiid;s  over 
the  others,  but  denies  that  this  is  owing  in  amf  gr^ai  degree  to 
the  people  being  Protestants.     Listen  to  his  reasoning. 

"  I  say  in  any  great  degree,  because  I  admit  that  the  Protestant  religion 
being  more  favourable  to  the  diffusion  of  knowledge  and  to  intellectual 
cultivation  than  the  Roman  Catholic  faith,  it  will,  in  some  degree,  affect 
favourably  the  condition  of  a  people.  But,  I  repeat,  that  Protestantism 
is  not  the  chief  cause  of  the  differences  to  which  I  have  alluded.  '  Look,' 
says  a  favourite  writer,  '  at  a  church,  and  a  mass  congregation,  and  you 
will  be  at  no  loss  to  distinguish  the  one  from  the  other.'  Truly  no.  They 
are  very  easily  distinguished.  But,  let  me  ask,  who,  throughout  every 
part  of  Ireland  (excepting  Ulster),  are  the  individuals  composing  the  church 
congregation  ?  Are  they  not  the  gentry  and  some  few  of  the  more  sub- 
stantial farmers  ?  It  is  not,  therefore,  at  all  difficult  to  distinguish  between 
the  Catholic  and  Protestant  population  :  for  this  is  but  distinguishing  be- 
tween the  upper  and  the  lower  ranks.  But  to  come  more  directly  to  the 
assertion  that  a  Protestant  district  has  quite  another  aspect  from  a  Catholic 
district,  which  I  admit  to  be  a  fact,  I  think  it  no  difficult  matter  to  find 
reasons  for  this,  more  influential  in  their  results  than  the  profession  of 
Protestantism. 

*'  Did  it  never  occur  to  those  who  have  observed  a  fact,  and  instantly 
seized  upon  the  lecLSt  influential  of  all  its  causes,  as  its  sole  origin,  that  the 
joate  of  wages  might  make  some  difference  in  the  condition  and  aspect  of  a 
%  people  ?  I'he  Catiiolic  peasantry  of  Clare,«Kerry,  Galway,  Mayo,  and  of  in* 
•deed  aU  the  soath,  west,  and  much  of  the  centre,  have  not  employment  atall 
during  half  of  tiie  year — pr,  in  other  words,  one  half  of  them  have  no  con- 
stant employment ;  and  when  they  are  employed,  what  is  their  rate  ofwages? 
E^ht-pence,  and  even  sixpence,  without  diet.  The  Protestant  population 
of  Derry,  Antrim,  Armagh,  and  Down,  have,  if  not  full  employment,  at 
least  greatly  more  constant  employment  than  their  Catholic  brethren  of 
the  south  ;  and  the  rate  of  wages  i-  from  \0d,  to  U.  4<f. ;  the  difierenoe 
is,  at  the  least.  Ad, ;  and  does  4tf.  per  day  make  no  difference  in  the  con* 
dition  of  an  Irish  labourer  ?  But  the  most  overwhelming  argument  for 
those  who  would  ascribe  all  the  difference  in  condition  to  ProteatantisBi  is* 
that  not  the  Protestants  only,  hut  the  Catholics  dUo/ta  these  Protestant 
counties,  are  in  a  better  condition.  How  should  this  be  ?  The  mass  of 
the  lower  classes  in  the  towns,  as  well  as  the  great  majority  of  the  country 
labourers  in  the  districts  called  Protestant,  are  Catholics  3  but  tiiey  are  not 
in  the  pondiUon  of  their  Catholic  countrymen  of  Munster  and  C(»inaught. 


Tkt  North  Ameriam  Re^me.  51§- 

We  do  net  see  them  with  tattered  coats  and  bare  feet ;  aud  why  ?  Be^ 
cause  ihey  are  generally  in  en^loymenft,  and  receive  higher  wages.  *1 
have  aeea  in  .Catholic  districts,  Catholic  tenantry  and  Catholic  labooreia, 
oomfbitsble  where  they  had  the  good  fortune  to  be  placed  in  favouiable 
circumBtances — as  on  the  estates  of  Mr.  Tighe  of  Woodstock^  Mr. 
Power  of  Kilfane,  Lord  Arden,  Mr.  Stanley,  Lord  Palmerston,  Lord  Lans- 
downe,  &c. ;  and  I  have  seen  Protestants  as  miserable  as  any  Catholics 
could  be — as  on  the  estate  of  Lord  Donoughmore  and  others." — ^voL  ii. 
pp.  213—216- 

He  goes  on 'at  a  length  which  we  must  not  quote;  but  another 
source^  according  to  bis  views  of  the  superior  comfort  throughout  the 
north,  is  the  growth  and  manufacture  of  flax.  And  the  next  cause 
advanced  is,  that  they  are  of  Scotch  descent.  Now,  we  are  most  un- 
willing to  distrust  the  author's  liberal  conclusions ;  but  still,  we 
think  the  admissions  which  tie  has  made  respecting  the  habits  and 
descent  of  the  people  in  the  north  of  Ireland,  might,  without  much 
difficulty,  be  so  turned  1igain3t  him,  that  his  opinions  would  require 
more  substantial  props.  From  these  extracts,  however,  our  readers 
may  judge  of  his  performance ;  and  surely  they  must  say  with  us, 
that  it  is  singularly  impartial,  and  calculated  to  be  useful ;  it  narrates 
&ct8,  not  fictions,  truth  alone  being  the  author's  object.  May  that 
truth  be  the  subject  of  study  in  England! — still  more  may  it  be  lis- 
tened to  and  understood  in  Ireland ! 


AaT.  VIIL — The   North  American  Review.   No.  85,  Vol.  39.   Boston: 

Charles  Lowen. 

We  have  this  month  devoted  a  XDXxe  than  usual  share  of  our 
Journal  to  North  American  books.  It  would  oftener  be  our  practice 
to  take  notice  of  the  literature  of  thai  country,  were  not  the  harvest 
at  home  so  abundant,  (which  must  have  the  first  claims  upon  us), 
that  we  cannot  always  gratify  our  readers  with  a  glance  of  the  rich 
fields  abroad.  America,  indeed,  and  all  that  belongs  to  her,  will 
ever  be  dear  to  us,  as  a  sister,  only  of  younger  birth,  whose  cha- 
racter, as  is  not  unusual  with  the  youngest  of  a  fiimily,  presento 
all  the  lineameats  of  the  elder  members,  together  with  a  new  featuri^ 
broad,  blooming,  and  spirited,  that  has  ahready  not  merely  given 
promise  of  great  doings,  but  achieved  beyond  her  promise :  and 

?€t,  it  is  clear  she  nether  knows  nor  has  put  forth  her  fiill  strength, 
f  we  look  to  any  one  of  her  powers  or  accomplishments,  we  cannot 
but  be  satisfied  that^the  fi-esh  untrodden  field  of  exploit  before  and 
around  her,  is  to  be  dorified  as  a  pattern  to  the  world. 

The  literature  of  America  is  healthy  and  vigorous  ;  its  race  is 
steady  and  forward ;  its  bearing  assured  and  bold.  We  cannot 
say,  nor  expect,  nor  wish,  that  all  the  precision  of  a  nation  whose 
etiquette  has  for  centuries  been  a  principal  branch  of  study,  does 
mark  its  progress,  or  that  all  the  grace  of  courti^  refinement. has 
yet  softened  its  tone ;  but  the  genius  is  thore,  which,  when  it  has 


•  520  TJ^  North  American  Ihviem. 

leisure  after  the  daring  career  of  youth  to  repose,  will  entataia 
itself  with  the  gentler  offices,  and  work  out  the  perfect  sjmmetary  of 
all  that  belongs  to  a  new  form — :a  form  which  will  be  surpassed  by 
none  that  ever  breathed,  lliese  remarks'  have  often  been  sug- 
gested by  the  literary  works  of  America ;  and  in  an  especial  manner 
by  the  number  of  the  Review  before  us.  For,  besides  a  variety  of 
able  and  powerful  papers  which  it  contains,  such  as — on  the  Diplo- 
matic Correspondence  of  the  United  States,  the  Italian  Drama, 
Coleridge's  Foems,  the  Physiology  of  Man, — its  first  article  is 
expressly  devoted  to  a  history  of  the  Periodical  Literature  of  (he 
United  States.  To  this  article  we  are  now  to  confine  ourselves, 
abridging  and  extracting  as  we  best  can. 

It  is  a  striking  remark,  but  one  which  is  as  true  as  striking, 
''  that  every  political  revolution,  from  the  beginning  of  time  down  to 
the  moment  which  subsided  into  the  English  commonwealth,  was 
somehow  eiFected  without  so  much  as  the  help  of  newspapers.'* 
After  tracing  in  hasty  outline  the  rise  and  progress  of  English  and 
French  periodical  literature,  in  which  sketch  our  Monthly  lieview 
figures  at  the  head  of  a  new  form  of  lucubration,  and  as  appearing  so 
far  back  as  1749,  the  writer  states,  that  printing  was  first  intro- 
duced, in  so  far  as  the  continent  of  America  is  concerned,  into 
Peru  and  Mexico,  and  afterwards  into  the  English  colonies,  as 
early  as  1639.  For  a  great  many  years  after  this  introduction,  a 
newspaper  was  unknown  in  North  America. 

N 

'*  Without  any  such  aid,  to  keep  up  the  spirit  of  their  own  people,  or 
make  known  their  dangers  and  successes,  or  put  to  shame  an  bppusing 
faction,  or  demolish  heresies,  our  fathers  managed  to  get  through  with 
their  disputes  with  the  Indian  tribes  till  far  beyond  the  decisive  termina- 
tion of  Philip's  war,  their  controversies  with  the  government  at  home  till 
long  after  the  provincial  charter  of  William  and  Mary,  and  other  more 
verbose  disputes  till  long  after  the  settling  of  the  synodial  Confession  of 
Faith. 

*'  How  they  did  it,  may  be  a  riddle  worth  the  reading.  It  is  pleasing, 
however,  to  reflect,  that  the  very  want  of  this  instrument  may,  in  their 
circumstances,  have  been  a  means  of  more  peifectly  consolidating  the 
infant  state.  The  absence  of  those  facilities  for  intelligence,  which  eveiy 
man  can  now  command  so  cheaply  in  his  solitude,  favoured  their  social 
habits.  They  sought  each  other,  and  resorted  more  freely  to  the  great 
centre  of  information,  from  the  necessity  of  acquainting  themselves  thus, 
if  in  any  way,  with  whatever  was  going  on  in  the  world.  We  have  not 
seen  it  suggested,  but  it  has  occurred  to  us,  that  here  was  very  pro- 
bably a  leading  element  in  the  strong  interest  attached  throughout  the 
seventeenth  century  to  the  Boston  weekly  Thursday  lecture ;  a  service 
so  attractive  for  some  cause,  that  even  the  schools  in  different  towns  on 
that  day  dismissed  masters  and  boys  from  their  tasks  *.  The  canvassing 
of  news  on  Sunday  would  not  have  been  tolerated,  even  if,  on  Sunday,  it 

*  A  carious  vestige  of  this  practice  remains  in  Salem,  vbere  lioUdays  in  Uie.jMiM)ols  art 
aUU  called  lecture  days ;  a  generaliaaUon  of  the  term  originally  applied  to  th^dispeaMilioB 
-gifea  for  the  purpose  of  going  to  hear  the  lecture  at  Boaton. 


The  North  American  Review.  521 

did  not  become  every  good  citizen  to  be  at  his  home.  The  Thursday 
lecture  at  the  capital,  in  the  existing  state  of  things,  would  naturally  be- 
come a  central  exchange,  where  matters  uf  commoiv  interest  would  be 
communicated  and  discussed.  It  would  be  a  sort  of  distributing  post- 
office,  to  circulate  into  the  neighbourhood  the  knowledge  of  the  latest 
events,  fashions  and  opinions.  And  if  there  be  any  thing  in  this  view, 
the  multiplication  of  means  for  coming  at  the  large  and  small  gossip  of  the 
day,  may  have  had  as  much  to  do,  as  the  decline  of  piety,  in  causiug  that 
institution  to  become,  what  tlie  few  among  us,  who  know  any  thing  of 
it,  know  it  to  be,  the  wreck  and  shadow  of  its  former  glory." — pp.  280, 
281. 

The  first  newspaper  in  these  colonies^  we  are  informed,  ap- 
peared about  the  same  time  with  the  first  Scottish  Gazette,  in  the 
year  1704.  The  writer  refreshes  our  memory  with  one  of  the 
etymologies  of  the  word  gazette,  which  refers  it  to  the  name  of  the 
Venetian  Coin  Gazetta,  for  which  the  first  thing  of  the  kind  was 
sold  at  Venice.  The  proprietor  of  the  first  American  newspaper, 
and  which  was  called  the  ^^  Boston  Letter,  published  by  Authority," 
was  a  Scotchman  of  the  name  of  Campbell,  who  was  postmaster  of, 
the  town.  It  felt,  at  the  ^id  of  eighteen  years,  into  the  hands  of 
the  printer,  and  by  him  and  his  successors  was  continued  till  the 
evacuation  of  Boston  by  the  British  troops  in  1776,  being  then  the 
organ  of  the  Tory  party.  * 

"  William  Brooker,  being  appointed  Campbeirs  successor  in  the  post  • 
office,  resolved  to  turn  his  official  advantage  to  a  similar  account,  and 
accordingly,  Dec.  2l8t,  1719,  set  up  the  second  newspaper  in  the  colonies, 
called  the  Boston  Gazette,  employing  James  Franklin  for  his  printer. 
In  two  or  three  months  after,  Brooker,  in  his  turn,  was  superseded  by 
Philip  Musgrave,  who  accordingly  coming  into  possession  of  the  news- 
paper, gave  the  printing  of  it  to  Samuel  Kneeland,  a  former  apprentice 
to  Green,  who  issued  it  for  eight  years  from  his  printing  house  at  the 
comer  of  Prison  Lane  (now  Court  Street)  and  Dorset's  Alley,  an  estate 
constantly  occupied  in  this  manner  from  the  year  17  i  8,  till  within  the 
life- time  of  the  present  generation.  \ 

"  At  the  end  of  this  term,  a  new  postmaster,  coming  into  possession  of 
the  Grazette^  naturally  looked  to  his  own  line  of  patronage  in  the  way  of 
printing;  and  Kneeland,  experiencing  the  common  lot  of  dependants  on 
the  great,  and  thrown  again  upon  his  own  resources  by  a  like  turn  in  the 
wheel  to  that  on  which  he  had  arisen,  indemnified  himself  by  setting  up 
the  New  England  Journal  on  his  private  account,  with  the  benefit  of  his 
past  experience,  and  the  knowledge  acquired,  ip  his  palmy  days,  of 
matters  behind  the  veil  of  state.  This  journal  was  largely  aided  by  such 
considerable  men  as  Judge  Danforth,  and  Mather  Byles  the  elder,  and 
took  a  leading  part  in  the  religious  disputes  of  the  ^ime,  on  the  side  of 
Edwards  and  White  field.  Its  publication  was  carried  on  for  fifteen 
years,  at  the  end  of  which  time  it  was  united  with  the  Gazette,  under  the 
name  of  the  Boston  Gazette  and  Weekly  Journal,  and  so  continued  to 
be  published  till  17^2,  when  Kneeland,  separating  himself  from  a  partner 
in  the  printing  business,  took  another  departure  on  the  editorial  voyage, 
with  the  name  of  the  Boston  Gazette,  or  Weekly  Advertiser,  containing, 


521  .  Tki  Norik  Americmi  M^km. 

as  Hb  interiptlon  read, '  the  freshest  advices,  forei^B  and  dooMstic,^*  b 
was  publiriied  but  two  years,  being  one  of  tiie  victims  of  the  provincial 
tfamp  act/'~pp.  282,  283. 

But  there  had  been,  as  the  writer  well  says,  a  great  episode  pre» 
vious  to  these  last  dates  in  the  newspaper  history.  The  first  number 
of  the  "  New  England  Courant,**  was  issued  August  17,  1721,  by 
James  Franklin.  He  took  a  course  which  was  necessary,  when, 
without  something  new,  there  could  not  be  room  for  a  new  pi^^er, 
and  that  course  was  an  offensive  comment  on  the  respectea  mea 
and  opinions  of  the  day. 

'*  He  was  aided  in  bis  editorial  labours  by  a  society  called  by  moderate 
people  the  '  FVee-tbiakers,'  and  qualified  by  otber^t  with  the  leas  enpho* 
nious  appellation  of  '  the  Hell-fire  Club.'  But  the  mastei^spirit  in  the 
Courant's  better  days  was  Franklin's  brother  Benjamia„  then  a  boy, 
apprenticed  in  the  office.  The  paper  provoked  the  severe  displeasure  of 
the  clergy  and  the  government,  which  the  latter  did  not  fail  to  manifest  in 
the  processes  of  legislative  and  judicial  action.  AU  this  it  mi^t  have 
continued,  with  good  management  and  a  portion  of  the  popular  favour,  to 
brave  or  evade,  and  thrive  upon,  but  Franklin  was  indiscreet  enough  to 
quarrel  with  his  brother;  and  with  his  ek)pement  to  Philadelphia,  the 
glory  departed  irom  the  Courant,  and  its  weak  life  soon  expired.  Alter 
Benjamin  had  abstracted  himtelf,  the  Gourant  continaed  to  he  pablished 
in  his  name,  as  it  had  been  for  some  time  before,  though  he  was  a  minor, 
in  consequence  of  an  order  of  the  General  Court,  forbidding  its  publication 
on  the  part  of  James." — p.  283. 

The  matter  now  thickens  as  we  proceed,  and  the  interest  in- 
creases!    We  cannot  abridge  such  paragraphs  as  these  :— 

"  Four  years  alter  the  Courier  had  come  to  its  end,  the  Woeldy  Re^ 
hearsal  was  set  on  foot  by  the  famous  Jeremy  Gridley,  afterwards  attorney* 
general  of  Massachusetts  Bay,  then  a  young  lawyer  of  brilliant  proniss. 
At  the  end  of  a  year,  he  wearied  of  the  work,  on  which  he  had  ajqaended 
much  classical  lore,  and  the  labour  of  weekly  essays  fiill  of  sense  imd  en- 
tertainment ;  and  it  went  into  the  hands  of  Thomas  Fleet,  an  Eoglishiaaa  ^ 
by  birth,  and  a  printer  by  trade,  who  had  brooght  himsdf  into  trooble  in 
London  by  his  antipathy  to  the  high  church  party,  manifested  in  a  studied 
affront  to  the  procession  in  honour  of  Dr.  Sacheverel.  He  then  lived,  ss 
his  posterity  do  now,  at  the  comer  of  Washington  Street  and  Water 
Street,  a  s|K)t  long  distinguished  by  the  sign  of  the  Henrt  and  Crown,  and 
afterwards,  when  crowns  went  out  of  credit,  by  that  of  the  Heart  and  ^bk. 
Fleet  was  a  humourist,  a  man  of  talent  and  energy,  and  possessing  na- 
common  resources,  in  his  mind  and  experience,  tor  his  present  uate> 
taking.  His  satire  was  generally  good-natured,  and  alwnya  free  aad 
copious.  He  fully  preserved  the  latter  strain^  and  somewhat  abaadoaed 
the  former,  in  an  attack  on  Whttefield,  then  at  the  height  of  bis  P^p^ 
larity.  For  some  unexpkdned  reason,  he  ohaaged  the  name  of  tlM  Ka- 
hearsal,  after  printing  it  about  two  years,  to  that  of  the  Boston  Ei 
Post.  This  he  continued  thirteen  years  longer,  to  the  time  of  his 
and  it  was  undoubtedly  much  the  best  paper  of  its  time.  It  was  Woaght 
down  by  his  two  sons  to  the  month  of  tiie  Lexington  battle. 


The  Nerlh  AvMricmi  Rwiem  525 

,  "  The  two  first  newspapers  in  the  colonies,  oot  of  Bostoi^^.were  the 
American  Weekly  Mercury,  printed  in  Philadelphia  by  Andrew  Bradford^ 
begun  Dec.  22d,  1719,  and  the  N^w  York  Gazette,  by  William  Bradford, 
rating  from  Oct.  16th,  1728.  Up  to  the  year  ]750»  besides  the  seven 
Boston  papers  already  spoken  of,  the  whole  number  undertaken  in  British 
America  was  thirteen,  viz. : — the  Rhode  Island  Gazette,  begun  in  New- 
port in  1 732 ;  in  New  York,  the  New  York  Gazette,  already  mentioned* 
and  three  others ;  in  Pennsylvfinia,  the  American  Weekly  Mercury,  men- 
tioned before,  the  Pennsylvania  Gazette,  purchased  by  Franklin  in  1729» 
within  a  year  after  its  establishment,  and  conducted  by  him  for  thirty 
years,  and  two  others,  one  in  German ;  the  Maryland  Gazette,  published 
at  Annapolis,  and  dating  from  1728:  the  Virginia  Gazette,  from  1736; 
and  two  successive  South  Carolina  Gazettes,  at  Charleston,  from  1731  and 

1734."— pp.  284,285. 

The  writer,  without  following  the  history  of  the  newspapers 
farther,  selects  a  few  facts,  illustrative  of  similarity  or  differeru^e 
between  their  remote  and  their  recent  relations  to  the  community 
which  they  illuminated,  and  partially  of  the  taste,  resources,  man- 
ners, and  feelings  of  the  times.  He  tells  us  that  the  first  papers 
were  commonly  printed  on  a  half  sheet  of  pot  paper ;  sometimes  a 
whole  sheet  was  used,  sometimes  they  were  printed  in  folio,  no  re- 
gard being  had  to  binding.  The  News-Letter  introdfuced  itself 
thus:— 

**  This  News-letter  is  to  be  continued  weekly;  and  all  persons  who  have 
any  houses,  lands*  tenements,  farms,  ships,  vessels,  goods,  wares,  or  mer- 
chandizes, &c.,  to  be  sold  or  let,  or  servants  runaway,  or  goods  stole  or 
lost,  may  have  the  same  inserted  at  a  reasonable  rate,  from  twelve  pence 
to  five  shillings,  and  not  to  exceed,  who  may  agree  with  Nicholas  Boune 
for  the  same,  at  his  shop,  next  door  to  Major  Davis*,  apothecary,  in  Bos- 
ton, near  the  old  Meeting-house.  All  persons  in  town  and  country  may 
have  said  News-letter  weekly  upon  reasonable  terms,  agreeing  with  John 
Campbell,  postmaster  of  New  England,  at  Boston,  for  the  same." — ^p.  285. 

Only  four  or  five  post  ofiices  were  at  this  time  in  British  Ame« 
lica.  One  advertisement  was  in  the  first  number  of  the  News- 
letter, two  in  the  second.  In  the  fifth  year  of  Campbell*s  enter- 
prise, difficulties  had  grown  up. 

The  Scotchman  is  to  be  seen  throughout  every  sentence  of  the 
following  paragraphs : — 

"  '  All  persons  in  town  or  country  who  have  not  already  paid  for  this 
fourth  year,  are  hereby  desired  now  to  pay  or  send  it  in ;  with  their  reso- 
lution if  they  would  have  it  continued  and  proceeded  on  for  a  fifth  year, 
life  permitted,  which  is  only  to  be  known  by  the  number  who  take  it 
weekly  throughout  the  year;  though  there  has  not  as  yet  a  competent 
number  appeared  to  take  it  annually,  so  as  to  enable  the  undertaker  to 
carry  it  oo  ejQfectually,  yet  he  is  willing  to  proceed  with  it,  if  those  gen* 
tlemen  that  have  this  last  year  lent  their  helping  hand  to  support  it,  con- 
tinue still  of  the  same  mind  another  year,  in  hopes  that  those,  who  have 
hitherto  been  backward  to  pramote  such  a  public  good,  will  at  last  set  in 
^with  it.* 
*  *'  In  1718  he  makes  public  another  of  his  embarrassments. 


524  The  Norik  Amcriioatk  Review. 

" '  After  near  upon  fourteen  years'  experience,  the  niidertaker  knovt 
that  it  is  iinpossible,  with  half  a  sheet  in  the  week,  (o  carry  on  all  the 
public  news  of  Europe.  He  now  intends  to  make  up  that  deficiency  by 
printing  a  sheet  every  other  week  for  trial,  by  which  in  a  little  time  all 
will  become  new  which  used  formerly  to  be  old.' 

"  And  some  months  after,  be  refers  to  the  gratifying  success  of  tiiLl  ex* 
perimeiit,  remarking,  that  *  since,'  that  is,  since  his  proposal,  '  he  has 
printed  every  other  week  a  sheet,  whereby  that  which  seemed  old  in 
the  former  half-sheets  becomes  new  now  by  tiie  sheet,  which  is  easy  to 
be  seen  by  any  one  who  will  be  at  the  pains  to  trape  back  former  years, 
and  even  this  time  twelve  months;  we  were  then  thirteen  months  behind 
with  our  foreign  news,  beyond  Great  Britain,  now  less  than  five  months, 
80  that  by  the  sheet  ue  have  retrieved  about  ei^ht  months  since  January 
last;  and  any  one  that  has  the  News  Letter  since  that  time  to  January 
next,  life  permitted,  will  be  accommodated  with  all  the  news  of  Europe 
that  are  needful  to  be  known  in  these  parts.  And  in  regard  the  under- 
taker had  not  suitable  encouragement,  ev^n  to  print  half  a  sheet  weekly, 
seeing  that  he  cannot  vend  three  hundred  at  an  impression,  though  some 
ignorant ly  concludes  he  sells  upwards  of  a  thousand,  iar  less  is  he  able  to 
print  a  sheet  every  other  week  without  an  addition  of  four,  six,  or  eight 
shillings  a-year,  as  every  one  thinks  fit  to.  give,  payable  q[iiar^cny. 
which  will  only  help  to  pay  for  press  and  paper,  giving*  his  labour  for 
nothing.' 

"A  disinterestedness  this,  how  rarely  imitated  in  these  iron  times! 
But  our  admiration  of  it  must  be  qualified  by  the  fear,  that  he  partly  com- 
pensated himself  by  what  the  postmaster-general  at  home  might  have 
reckoned  some  official  freedoms.  '  The  author,'  he  says,  *  being  still  de- 
sired and  encouraged  to  carry  on  the  same  by  the  gentlemen,  merchants, 
and  others,  his  usual  customers,^  he  intends,  life  permitted,  to  answer 
their  expectation,  and  to  forward  still  as  regular  account  of  aJflFain 
as  our  part  of  the  world  will  admit  of,  preventing  a  great  many  false 
reports.  If  he  does  not  print  a  sheet  every  other  week  this  winter  time, 
he  designs  to  make  it  up  in  the  spring,  when  ships  do  arrive  from  Great 
Britain.  And  for  the  advantage  of  the  post-office,  an  entire  sheet  of 
paper,  one  half  with'  the  news,  and  the  other  half  good  writing  paper  to 
write  their  letter  on,  may  also  be  had  there  for  every  one  that  pleases  to 
have  it  every  Monday.' 

..  **  This  latter  scheme  seems  to  have  been  the  postmaAter's  honorarium  to 
the  editor's  patrons,  in  the  way  of  charging  their  letter  with  only  newspaper 
postage."— pp.  286,  287. 

Campbell's  first  literary  skirmish  was  with  the  Gazette,  Lot 
Franklin's  Courant  was  his  sorest  foe^  saying  at  the  very  onset  that 
the  News-letter  was  a  "  dull  vehicle  of  intelligence.'*  He  reta- 
liated as  he  best  could,  declaring  among  other  things  that  the 
**  Courant's  lucubrations  smelt  much  more  of  the  ale  tub  than  of 
the  lamp."  However,  although  we  le^m  that  this  patriarch  editor 
was  obliged  to  keep  within  his  own  narrow  sphere^  he  died  one  of 
his  Majesty's  justices  of  the  peace,  having  reached  the  age  of 
seventy-five  years.  But  the  Courant's  history  is  still  more  piquant. 
It  announced  itself  to  have  in  view  the  entertainment  cf  the  town. 


*  

The  North  American  Review .  425 

with  the  moBt  comical  and  diverting  incidents  of  life,  and.  vrith  ''  a 
gratefiil  interspersion  of  more  serious  morals,  which  may  be  drawn 
from  the  most  ludicrous  and  odd  parts  of  life.''  Here  is  one  of  its 
flings. 

"  *  llie  most  famous  politicians  in  the  goTeroment,  as  tbe  infamous 
Gov.  D —  (Dummer)  and  his  family,  have  ever  been  remarkable  for 
hypocrisy ;  and  it  is  the  general  opinion  that  some  of  the  rulers  are  raised 
up  and  continued  as  a  scourge  in  the  hands  of  the  Almighty,  for  the  sins 
of  the  people,  llius  much  we  could  not  forbear  saying,  out  of  compassion 
to  the  distressed  people  of  the  province,  who  must  now  resist  all  pretence^ 
to  sense  and  reason,  and  submit  to  the  tyranny  of  priestcraft  and  hypocrisy. 
P.S. — By  private  letters  from  Boston  we  are  informed  that  the  bakers 
diereare  under  great  apprehensions  of  being  forbid  making  any  more 
bread,  unless  they  will  submit  to  the  secretary  as  supervisor-general  and 
weigher  of  the  dough,  before  it  is  baked  into  bread  and  offered  for  sale.' " 
—pp.  288.  289.  • 

How  divines  deported  themselves  under  the  lash  of  the  gentle* 
men  of  the  pi  ess  in  those  simple  days,  may  be  hence  learned 
from  what  Increase  Mather,  at  one  time  president  of  the  college, 
said  through  the  Boston  Gazette. 

" '  Whereas  a  wicked  libel,  called  the  New  England  Courant,  has  re« 
pretsented  me  as  one  among  the  supporters  of  it,  I  do  hereby  declare  that, 
although  I  had  paid  for  two  or  three  of  them,  I  then,  before  the  last  Cou« 
rant  was  published,  seut  him  word  I  was  extremely  offended  with  it.  In 
9}>ecial,  because  in  6ne  of  his  vile  Courants  he  insinuated,  that  if  the 
ministers  approve  of  a  thing,  it  is  a  sign  it  is  of  the  devil — which  is  a 
.horrid  thing  to  be  related.  And  he  doth  O^u^tly  abuse  the  ministers  of 
religion,  and  many  other  Worthy  persons,  in  a  man  iter  which  is  intolerable. 
For  these  and  such  like  reasons,  I  signified  to  the  ^printer  that  1  would 
.have  no  more  of  thdr  wicked  Courants.  I  can  well  remember  when  the 
civil  government  would,  have  taken  an  effectual  course  to  suppress  such  a 
xursed  libel.  Which  if  it  be  not  done,  I  am  afraid  that  some  awful  judg- 
ment will  come  upon  this  land,'  &c.  '  I  cannot  but  pity  poor  Franklin, — 
4uid  I  cannot  but  advise  the  supporters  of  tiie  Courant  to  consider  the  con- 
.aeqnences,  and  no  more  countenance  such  a  wicked  paper.' " — ^p.  289. 

The  following  is  a  specimen  of  the  sort  of  wit  that  amused 
the  men  of  those  days,  which  was  published  in  Fleet's  Rehearsal, 
in  the  shape  of  mock  advertisements. 

"  *  To  be  sold  by  the  printer  of  this  paper,  the  very  best  negro  in  this 
town ;  is  as  hearty  as  a  horse,  as  brisk  as  a  bird,  and  will  work  like  a 
-beaver. 

•"  To  be  sold  by  the  printer  of  this  paper,  a  negro  man  about  thirty  yean 
'Old,  who  can  do  both  town  and  countiy  business  very  well,  but  will  suit  the^ 
country  best,  where  they  have  not  so  many  dram  shops  as  we  have  in  Bos- 
ton. He  has  worked  at  the  printing  business,  can  handle  an  axe,  saw,  ^ 
spade,  hoe,  or  other  instrument  of  husbandry  as  well  as  most  men,  and 
i^ues  himself,  and  is  valued  by  others,  for  his  skill  in  cookery  and  making 
of  soap."* — ^p.  290. 

Of  American  periodical  literature  in  its  less  ephemeral  forms, 
.there  was  very  little  before  the  revolution.     The  writer  enumerates 
roL.  III.  (1834.)  NO.  IV.  pf 


599  The  North  American  Review. 

twelve  of  this  sort;  none  of  which,  however,  survived  llmt 
^hocky  nor  do  they  seem  even  to  have  had  any  monre  than  n  vefy 
uncertain  reign.  The  remaining  quarter  after  the  revolution  was 
not  more  benign  upon  such  enterprises.  ,The  present  century  opened 
more  auspiciously,  the  first  number  of  the  "  Portfolio*'  Invingbeen 
published  on  the  3d  of  January,  1801,  set  on  foot  by  Joseph  Dennie, 
of  whonTthere  is  a  discriminating  sketch  given  by  the  wnter.  It  is 
worth  extracting  as  an  example  and  lesson  to  many  a  sensitive  and 
erratic  spirit 

"  Wa  infer*  from  the  tcms  of  some  of  the  editorials*  that  it  was  never 
nay  tbiag  like  a  gaiafnl  concern  to  its  autUor,  As  eaily  as  the  end  of  the 
first  year,  there  is  an  out-Urealj;  of  defiance  of  hostility,  and  contempt  ef 
neglect  and  desertion,  which  too  clearly  luanifests  the  sensibility  it  disckuma. 
At  the  end  of  the  second  year^  he  says  plainly,  in  language,  if  of  exaggenr 
tion,  of  evident  feeing  too,  that  '  his  sketches  liave  scarcely  been 
Ivorative  enoi^h  te  pay  for  the  oil  consumed  in  their  compositwn/ 
confessing,  at  the  sapi^  time,  in  language  implying  a  strong  conscious- 
ness that  the  confession  was  both  true  and  called  for,  that  his  own 
want  of  steady  purpose  and  assiduous  self-tasking  shared  largely  among 
other  causes  of  his  disappointment.  In  fact,  all  accounts  agree  that  he 
had  no  habits  of  application  capable  of  sustainmg,  if  any  thing  can,  the 
burden  of  a  weekly  exhibition  of  one's  self,  of  a  nature  to  demand  that  one 
should  be  always  pointed  and  brilliant.  In  respect  to  natural  gifts,  ha 
was,  possibly,  nqt  over-rated;  but  undoubtedly  his  reputation  in  some 
particulars  was  factitious.  The  felicities  of  his  style,  for  instance,  wdre 
decidedly  ostentatious ;  and  some  of  his  earlier  papers  have  a  display  of 
classical  learning,  such  lAi  is  only  to  be  made  in  two  ways;  ekher  upon 
drafts  upon  the  memory  of  a  first-rate  scholar,  sach  as  Bentley  and  Porson, 
which,  of  course,  Dennie  was  not,  or  else  by  dogged  reference  to  indices, 
a  kind  of  work  which  one,  whose  taste  and  whose  fftrte  is  to  be  light  and 
sparkling,  will  not  long  find  patience  to  sustain.  Society  solicited  him 
with  a  dangerously  fiattering  importunity ;  the  irregular  habits  of  appIfoa> 
tixm  and  exasperated  sensibility,  which  in  those  dsiys  more  than  now,  wsk 
unhappily  thought  to  belong  to  ^fenius,  nat^arally,  by  a  constantly  redpi^ 
cal  actaon*  aggravated  each  other,  and  he  died  in  1812,  a  mortified  disafH 
poiAted  man,  surviviag  his  higheai  Uw^*  and  leavings  np  sCning  <Mm  on 
the  gratitude  of  posterity,  though  scarcely  surviving  a  oertain  enthusiastic 
and  indefinite  public  admiration,  and  long  survived  by  fneodships  which 
bis  attractive  equalities  of  mind  and  heart  were  always  prompt  to  win." — 
pp.  294,  235. 

Brown,  the  great  novelist,  set  up,  in  1803,  the  "  Literary  Ma- 

Kzine   and   American  Register;**  and  in'  1806,    the  "  Annual 
agistor;"  the  latter,   being  characterised  hy  the  writer  as  the 
gravest  periodical  which  had  yet  appeared^ 

"He  carried  it  through  five  volumes,  and  tlie  former  work  through 
eight,  conducting  the  two  together,  besides  occasional  contribations  to  the 
Portfolio  and  other  works,  with  most  praiseworthy  industry,  distinguished 
and  various  talent,  and  a  very  sober,  enlightened,  and  generous  spirit. 
The  last  volume  of  the  Register  was  issued  but  a  few  weiaks  befoi«  his 
dcMth.    Browai's  is  a  name  which  ought  not  to  '  be  willtiigly  let  di*.'    A 


^\Mi  JttMte^ft  kM  f%c«ntly  been  done  it,  Ih  the  bM^pbv  by  oar  t?okdi 
jntor,  Mh  WiOkai  H;  FttBcc^i  pMiOcktd  ih  M^.  Spafk'd  tooHectidti. 

'*  SahiHigttndi  there  k  of  coune  no  describing.  But  we,  who  «te  old 
«B«tagfc» '  dinpot  but  remember  such  things  were,  and  were  most  itear  bft 
OS.'  To  itfe  contemp<Nrarie8,  its  name  is  its  histmy.  To  speak  it,  is  ib 
woke  tlie  spirits  of  the  crowd  of  bright  fmdes  which  it  stood  for>  and 
make  tkem  rvfch  again  in  their  motley,  if  how  sad  procession,  throngh  the 
mind.  Unfoltnnated,  who  were  not  its  oohteihporaries,  if  they  will  not 
ned  its  own  five  hundred  l8mo.  pages,  may  do  the  next  best  thing  by 
eonnitig  its  fifty  froitfid  pages  of  index.  It  began  and  ended  with  1607. 
faring,  not  yet  a  longed«for  exile,  Verplaticky  not  yet  a  statesman,  and 
Paulding,  stUl  in  process  of  breaking  for  the  more  regular  literary  races, 
made  the  mysterious  trio  of  Langstaff,  Btergreen,  and  Wizard." — p.  &95. 

The  "  Motithly  Anthology*'  wAs  issued  in  1803  at  Boston,  by 
Pbineas  Adams,  aided,  as  has  been  understood,  by  Dr.  Channing. 
The  Rev.  Mr.  Emerson  was  the  next  editor  who  associated  with 
himself  some  literary  friends,  which  gave  rise  to  the  "  Antholo^ 
Club.''  Of  this  not  uncelebrated  periodical,  which  survived  tiU 
l8ll,  take  the  following  aocount. 

"  llioogh  there  Itras  a  most  honouffable  uniformity  ip^tlie  principles  of 
criticism  maintain^  in  the  Anthology^  there  was,  as  wai  to  be  expected 
mid  indeed  desired,  no  great  uniformity  of  matter  in  its  pages,  wher6  the 
talents  and  tastes  of  contributors  weile  so  various ;  nor  any  great  uniformity 
of  merit,  where  all  had  other  objects,  Which,  sometimes  more,  sometimes 
less^  drew  them  away  from  this.  But  there  are  jewels  of  speculation, 
crittdsm,  and  taste,  scattered  with  fio  grudging  hand  over  its  pages.  They 
•wrote  as  convcntence  allowed,  ftiacy  prbmpted,  or  some  serious  occasion 
•dictated,  as  of  course  they  wrote  gratuitoasly,  the  income  of  their  work 
never  so  nmch  as  defraying  tike  charge  of  their  meetings.  The  literary 
taste  and  spirit  which  they  aniinated  in  each  other,  and  the  feeling  for  let- 
ters which  they  excited  in  thiscomiAfinity,  have  pfoduc^d  apd  are  produc- 
ing very  palpable  and  inoreaising  importatit  resnlts.  And  they  erected  one 
mannmeat  to  their  association*  far  more  durable  than  their  work,  or  any 
interest  directly  attacking  lo  it.  The  Boston  Athenseum  was  first  the 
Anthology  reacUng  room.  Mr.  Sbaw^  long  afterwards  its  devoted  and  in- 
defatigable patron,  first  proposed  the  plan.  Several  members  of  tiie  club, 
among  whom  Rev.  Dr.  Gardiner  is  particularly  commemorated,  gave 
hooks ;  the  number  was  increased  by  contributions  of  othcT  public-spirited 
individuals ;  and  the  collection  was  first  deposited  in  a  room  on  Pember- 
ton's  hill.  When  it  became  too  laifge  to  find  accommodation  there,  it  was 
x'etttOved,  We  think  about  1812,  to  a  house  itk  Tre^mont  Street,  next  north 
of  King's  Oiapel  cemetery,  and  lastly,  about  ten  years  ago,  to  the  establiiih- 
tn^nt  ptiotided  for  it  in  Pearl  Street,*  by  t!ie  munificence  6f  Mr,  Perkins." 
—p.  297. 

Of  Ia£6  "O^orks  of  note  belonjzmg  t6  ihAt  p^odrbal  literature,  the 
^0mt6r,  for  obvions  reasons,  rorbears  giving  a  parti^^olai^  account, 
contenting  himself  with  a  general  announcement  of  their  titles, 
their  editors,  proprietors,  &e.  An  aboiost  barren  eaEalogne  cKnnt)i 
jnterecrt  our  tinders.    We  tfAiMt  the  itist  p^agrajih  tft  the  pa!p^. 


#2.8  TAf  North  American  Review. 

containing  some  brief  statements  touching  the  comparative  amount 
of  periodical  publications  at  difierent  periods  of  American  history. 

"In  the  year  1750,  four  newspapers  only  were  issued  in  New  England, 
4bJI  of.  them  in  Boston,  and  seven  in  the  other  colonies,  \4z.  two  in  New 
York,  three  in  Penn&ylvania,  one  in  Virginia,  and  one  in  South  Carulina. 
In  1775,  there  were  seven  in  Massachusetts,  one  in  New  Hampshire,  two 
in  Rhode  Island,  and  three  in  Connecticut,  (thirteen  in  all  New  Bngland,) 
three  in  New  York,  eight  in  Pennsylvania,  two  in  Maryland,  two  in  Vir- 
ginia, two  in  North  Carolina,  three  in  South  Carolina,  and  one  in  Georgia; 
making  twenty-one  in  all,  in  the*  Southern  provinces,  and  thirty-four  in 
the  territory  of  the  now  United  States.  Soon  after  the  Herolutionary  war. 
daily  papers,  instead  of  weekly  as  heretofore,  were  introduced  in  Philadel- 
phia  and  New  York;  but  we  had  none  here  till  so  late  as  1813.  In  1800, 
according  to  Thomas,  at  lease  one  hundred  and  fifty  newspapers  were 
printed  in  the  United  States;  and  in  1810,  three  hundred  and  ftfty.  already 
nearly  half  as  many  again  as  in  the  British  islands.  The  same  writar  com- 
puted the  number  of  single  papers,  then  annually  issued  here,  at  twenty- 
two  millions  and  a  half.  A  French  document,  inserted  in  the  American 
Almanac  of  the  current  year,  gives  the  number  of  newspapers  in  the  Uni- 
ted States  at  eight  hundred  and  forty,  while  aA  Europe  has  only  a  little 
over  two  thousand,  all  Asia  but  twenty-seven,  Great  Britain  four  hundred 
and  eighty,  Austria  and  Kussia each  eighty,  and  Spain  but  twelve;  making 
in  the  United  States  a  newspaper  for  less  than  every  fourteen  thonaand 
soals ;  in  Europe,  one  for  every  hundred  and  six  thousand  souls ;  and  in 
Asia,  one  for  every  fourteen  millions ;  or  a  thousand  times  as  many,  ia 
proportion  to  the  population  in  our  country,  as  in  the  tatter  continent* 
The  learned  editor,  however,  of  the  Almanac,  reckons  the  number  of  our 
newspapers  last  year  at  not  less  than  twelve  hundred;  the  numbeic  in  Mas- 
sachusetts alone  having  reached  a  hundred,  including  forty- three  in  Bos- 
ton.    The  other  periodical  literature  in  Boston,  last  year,  was  diffnsed 

-through  no  less  than  forty-seven  publications,  viz.  three  semi-monthly, 
twenty-two  monthly,  five  two-iuonthly,  seven  quarterly,  one  semi-a^^iial. 
and  nine  annual,  including  six  almanacs.  We  have  heard  it  confiileatly 
stated,  in  a  highly  trustworthy  quarter,  that,  apart  from  newspapers  and 

.religious  magazines,  the  periodical  publications  of  this  city  exceed  the  earn 

-of  those  of  the  rest  of  the  country.     But  we  cannot  ourselves  Touch  for 

the  fact/*— pp.  300,  301. 

Are  not  these  astonishing  strides  for  a  new  world,  and  a  yoang 
nation?  The  number  of  newspapers  that  circulate  through  the 
United  States,  should  teach  a  lesson  to  people  nearer  our  firesides. 
And  had  we  not  another  index  to  go  by,  that  circumstance  alone 
is  sufficient  to  support  many  of  the  greatest,  most  beautiful,  and 
enduring  structures  which  rational  speculation  can  rear  upon  any 
data.  America  is  therefore  a  noble  theme  of  study,  whether  we 
view  what  she  has  been  and  is,  or  contemplate  what  she  will  be- 
come, according  to  the  ordinary  development  of  the  ways  of  Al- 
'mighty  wisdom  ;  and  proud  should  England  be,  and  proud  she  will 
hence  for  ever  be,  of  her  kinship  with  such  a  nation  of  firee,  intel- 
lectual, enlightened,  and  moral  minds.  With  them,  we  at  least, 
ever  desire  tp  uphold  a  community  of  sentiment,  knowledge,  and 
affection. 


629  * 

JUt.  IX.—Iliustrati&ns  of  Social  Depravity.     No.    VI L-^  The  Free- 
.  masana.    By  John  Reid.    Glasgow  :  John  Reid  8e  Go.    Edinburgh  r 
M^iliiam  Tait.  •  London :  Whittaker  &  Co.,  1834. 

Free  Masonry  purports  to  be  an  ancient  and  respectable  institu* 
tion,  embracing  individuals  of  every  nation,  and  of  every  condition 
of  life.     In  order  to  attain  the  ends  for  which  it  was  originally 
formed,  every  candidate  comes  under  a  solemn  engagement  never 
to  divulge  the  mysteries  of  the  order,  nor  communicate  to  the  un- 
initiated the  secrets  with  which  he  may  be  intrusted,  and  the  pro« 
ceedings  in  which  the  fraternity  may  be  engaged.     At  regular  and 
appointed  seasons  convivial  meetings  are  held  in  lodges  constructed 
for  the  purpose  ;  benevolence,  temperance,  haripony,  and  joy  being 
their  professed  objects.     Various  opinions,  and  some  of  those  of  a 
very  opposite  nature,  have  been  held  of  the  practical  working  of 
such  an  institution.     One  party  has  maintained  that  its  origin  is 
coeval  with  the  most  ancient  times,  and  that  it  possesses  the  ex- 
cellence of  almost  a  divine  ordinance.      Others  say  it  was  the 
invention  of  Jesuits  to  promote  their  intriguing  views ;  and  treat 
the  whole  afiair  with  the  greatest  obloquy.     Not  being  masons 
ourselves,  we  shall  not,  in  the  observations  we  offer  before  coming 
to  the  work  on  our  table,  do  more  than  give  our  opinion  of  the 
working  of  this  institution,  in  a  practical  view,  at  home  and  abroad. 
And  we  venture  to  predict  that  that  opinion  will  meet  with  the 
acquiescence  of  every  one,  who  is  neither  a  red-hot  mason,  nor 
indiscriminate  libeller  of  the  order. 

In  the  regular  workings  of  Masonry,  let  us  just  note,  its  charac- 
ter ;  for,  as  regards  its  pretensions,  we  at  present  have  nothing  to 
say,  these  being,  as  we  think,  worthy  of  blame,  as  well  as  of  some 
praise.  Well  then,  what  is  Masonry  in  England  and  Scotland  ? 
As  to  the  rank,  talent,  and  character  of  very  many  of  the  brethren, 
it  is  highly  respectable ;  and  annually  the  lodges  do  much  good, 
by  the  charities  they  practise  in  behalf  of  the  destitute  and  be- 
reaved. But  is  a  Mason  Lodge  with  us  not  rather  considered  as  a 
"  place  for  passing  an  hour  or  two  in  a  sort  of  decent  conviviality, 
thdn  any  thing  else  ?  Is  not  the  occupation  of  the  brethren,  under 
the  pretext  of  being  rational,  rather  frivolities  worthy  of  young  or 
little-minded  men,  than  such  as  gravity  or  wisdom  can  take  pleasure 
in?  And  are  not  the  meetings  much  more  apt  to  lead  the  young  into 
companionships,  any  thing  but  conducive  to  regular  habits  and 
good  hours,  than  to  cherish  the  standard  virtues  professed  to  be 
sought  after?  It  is  all  very  well  to  talk  of  brotherly  love,  of 
equality,  and  other  general  topics  of  inoperative  benevolence.  A 
garret  pamphleteer  may  enjoy  the  brief  authority,  as  senior  war- 
den, of  conducting,  with  affectionate  solemnity,  the  young  noble- 
man who  pants  in  the  days  of  his  giddiness  for  the  honour  of 
mastership,  and  who  praises  in  return  the  trusty  brother  who  has 
guarded  him  in  his  perilous  journeys  round  the  room.     But  where 


63Q  lUuBtrutumt  of  Social  Depravity^ 

n^e  tl^Q  daily  fruits  of  all  this  ?  Why^  pothing^  as  r^pe([^  th^ 
yqung  (who  are  the  Qn}y  persons  th^tt  take  an  Interest  m  this 
country  in  such  child*s-play,  unless  a  few  gray-headed  ibob  some- 
times join  them),  but  what  will  always  oeeur  when  they  meet  in 
mimbers.  We  declare,  in  so  &?  as  the  lestimovy  ana  Brarftico 
•f  our  friends  as  masons  go,  that  not  one  of  them,  after  tho 
enthusiasm  of  youth  was  ovei,  ever  spoke  of  their  lodge-meeitiiigiB 
in  terms  diflerent  from  what  we  have  now  used,  un^ras  such  wm 
had  fiiUen  into  dissipated  habits,  ot  were  fond  io  hear  tliem-^ 
selves  spout.  Who  is  tliere  who  ever  witnessed  a  maaonio 
parade,  but  unless  he  were  a  stripling  it  to  be  taken  witK 
such  shows,  was  not  ashamect  of  the  g^wn-up  men  that  wer9 
the  object  of  intention  ?  Fc»  ourselves,  we  can  say,  that  the 
thought  ever  occurred  on  such  occasions, ''  What  must  they  think 
of  themselves  when  they  awake  in  the  morning  V*  We  cave  Boft, 
in  the  view  we  are  taking  of  the  professed  doctvines  of  Maaonty,^ 
but  we  unhesitatingly  assert,  that  in  thia  country  it  doea  nocb 
more  harm  than  good  ;  nor  did  wie  d^ier*  know  a  virtuoiis  £idhisv, 
among  the  working  classes,  that  approved  of  a  son  beooming  one 
of  the  mysterious  order^ 

But  it  will  be  said,  that  Masonry  is  not  such  a  £nf>elitj  on  the 
continent  as  it  is  in  Britain.  Irelaind  we  need  not  toueh,  for  it  ie 
to  be  presumed  that  no  temperate  n^ui  ean  advocate  the  instikationy 
as  it  has  there  worked.  We  admH  what  ie  declared  of  the  coati-. 
nent.  German  Masonry,  for  instance,  is  a  very  serious  concern^ 
and  is  implicated  with  other  objects  than  are  ever  thought  of  in 
this  country.  There,  as  weU  as  in  France,  and  Italy,  the  Lodges 
have  been  the  haunts  of  projeclora  and  fanafics,  m  scienoor 
religion,  and  poHtics  ;  where  they  have  availed  theinaelves  of  the 
secrecy  and  the  freedom  of  speech  maintained  in  such  meetings,  t» 
broach  their  doctrines,  contriving  to  tag  their  pecuUas  nostnims  te 
the  i^ummery  of  Masonry.  It  is  fri^^us,  la  all  that  we  see  or 
hear  of  its.  forms  ;  yet  it  admits  of  eveiy  fashioning  that  Gallic 
refinement  or  German  study  can  bestow.  So  that,  instead  of  tfaa 
homely,  free,  good-natured  and  convivial  thing  it  is  in  Britain,  i% 
has  in  those  cojuntries  beoomie  the  occasion  and  opportunity  of  the 
most  serious  discussions  in  morals,  reUgion,  aad  poUtics,  mpia-^ 
tajned  in  a  manner  we  have  no  adiequate  notion  of  in  this  country^, 
because  we  are  unacquainted  with  the  vestiaints  wbidi  ia  tiiose 
countries  have  been  imposed  on  free  oonveraationw  Were  there 
occasion  or  room  for  the  account,  we  could  show  that  the  Order  of 
Illuminati,  had  its  rise  among  £ree-masons**-an  association  which 
planned  a  diabolical  conspirieu^y  against  every  religious  and  pplkical 
^tablishment  in  Europe.  But  every  qne  ia  theksast  acq^aintad^ 
^ith  German  or  French  history  during  the  last  fift}^  Tears,  must 
remember  hpw  Masonry  in  these  countries  has  beee  tfce  *^  ^**- 
tgaxned  to  the  most  dangerous  purposes. 


IUu$traiumi  of  SociaiDeprmdiy.  Ml 

Leaving  tba  pifactical  firoits  of  this  tyslem,  if  it  msf  1)«  aa 
honoured^  let  us  juit  glanee  at  one  point  in  its  theory^  well 
known  to  evefy  person,  against  which  we  apprehend  weighty  ob- 
jections may  be  brought.  Whoever  is  initiated  into  the  rites  and 
ceremonies  of  the  order,  or,  in  other  words,  whoever  becomes  a 
member  of  a  mason -lodge,  is  most  strictly  and  solemnly  sworn  not 
to  betray  the  secrets  of  free-masonry  :  and  he  who  pays  no  respect 
to  those  ties  is  considered  by  the  brethren  neither  to  fear  God  nor 
regard  man^  Nay,  they  consider  the  conduct  disingenuous  of  the 
uninitiated  that  would  try  to  find  out  what  is  so  carefully  add 
solemnly  hidden.  We  do  not  at  present  mark  the  security  thai 
is  thus  obtained  Sor  keeping  their  mysteries  secret :  and  which  no 
doubt  has  been  their  great  hiding  place,  viz.  that  shoukl  a  member 
violate  his  obligations,  it  can  most  powerfully  be  urged  by  the 
faithful,  that  his  information  is  unworthy  of  credit.  For  it  is 
rather  to  be  supposed  that  he  will  dupe  his  auditors  by  false  mat* 
ter,  than  trample  upon  an  engagement  guarded  by  the  most  awful 
aanctions,  particularly  since  it  does  not  appear  that  a  man  can  hava 
any  very  tempting  cause  fot  such  a  violation.  But  the  point  wei 
refer  to  requires  no  reaaoning.  We  say  it  is  a  frightful  thing  for 
any  man  to  take  upon  himself  such  weighty  obligations  without 
serious  preparation  and  commensurate  occasion ;  and  that  the 
society  or  members  who  encourage  a  thoughtless  young  man  so  to 
bind  himself,  incurs  an  awful  responsibility.  Who  are  those  in 
Britain  that  generally  oflfer  themselves  to  be  initiated  ?  They  aar e* 
the  young  and  the  thoughtless ;  they  proceed,  as  all  in  this  eountry 
most  know,  to  take  part  in  the  mysieiiies,  and  to  engage  dbe«Melve» 
most  solemnly,  with  all  the  levity  and  rashness  suited  to  a  sporting*, 
field,  and  too  oft  they  return  in  no  better  pMght,  or,  at  least,  never 
impressed  more  deeply  than  before  with  any  one  moral  or  religio^i», 
feding.  There  is  infatuation  and  wiskedaess  in  all  these  proceed-, 
ings.  An  oath  is  not  to  be  tak^i  on  light  occasions,  and  perticch 
larly  an  oath  uttered  amid  such  imposing  rites  as  direct  the  foelingar 
and  the  soul  to  the  august  and  awfol  arttribafes  of  celesttial  life. 

The  little  work  before  us  has  suggested  an  occasion  for  thesfe^ 
remarks ;  and  if  it  detail  truths,  a  thing  we  have  no  reason  16 
doubt^  we  have  less  cause  than  ever  to  treat  Uglily  tha  tendem^y 
of  Masonry.  We  cannot  go  the  length  to  which  ''the  author  iiro- 
eeeds,  of  maintaining  that  every  menkber  of  the  order  is,  avt  and 
part,,  guilty  of  the  murder  that  has^  clearly  been  made  oat  aiS'  eom- 
mktea  by  a  conspiracy  in  America,  in  the  nama,  and  in  the  elia#* 
tactter  of'^masonry.  It  i»  true*,,  we  believe^  that  the"  whole  frater*' 
nity  are  fond  of  using  the  terms  and  sentiment,  that  "  free^masoary 
is  uie  same  over  the  whole  world :"  and  that  the  lodge  whose  mensH 
bers  murdered  one  of  their  number  for  divulging  their  secrets,  haa 
not  been  expelled  by  the  higher  lodges  of  America ;  whilst  the 
iree-masons  of  this  country  still  keep  in  union  with  die  establisb* 
men!  oS  tha  institulion'  thara«    But  sHili,  the  statements  in  this 


532  IlluitrativM  of  Social  Ihprisyii^, 

work,  if  correct/  present  us  wiHi  a  slid  pictore  of  masonic  umiAi' 
mity  in  crime,  and  which  is  more  than  abi^  to  outweigli  much  of 
the  good  done  by  all  their  charities.  Even  the  nmrd<7  of  a  fellow* 
creature  does  not  seem  so  frightful  and  bad,  as  the  readiness  mani- 
fested in  the  case  under  review,  of  free-masons  to  commit  any 
atrocity  in  support  or  for  the  protection  of  their  secret  society. 

We  cannot  follow  the  narrative  given  by  the  author,  seemingly 
from  accurate  information  and  authentic  documents.  But  the 
heads  of  the  story  contained  in  this  volume,  and  which  is  to  be 
followed  by  another,  amount  to  this — that  William  Morgan  was 
miderstood  to  be  about  to  publish  and  divulge  the  secrets  of  ma- 
sonry, he  himself  being  a  member,  and  considerably  advanced  in  a 
knowledge  of  the  order ;  that  he  was  abducted  and  murdered  by 
the  enraged  brethren  of  the  western  part  of  New  York,  to  which  he 
belonged ;  and  that  the  union,  the  rank,  and  infiumice  of  the  mem- 
bers that  had  a  hand  in  the  atrocity  were  such,  that  the  ends  of 
justice  have  been  defeated,  and  the  majesty  of  the  laws  outraged, 
without  the  perpetrators  having  been  punished.  l*he  crimes  alluded 
to  were  committed  in  the  year  1826,  and  have  been  the  occasion  of 
the  greatest  surprise,  indignation,  and  ferment  amongst  the  inha- 
bitants of  that  country.  Many  American  masons  have  tamed 
their  backs  upon  flki  institution  that  could  breed  and  harbour  such 
criminals,  and  countenance  such  depravity ;  but  many  have  also, 
both  by  deed  and  word,  expressed  their  approbation  of  the  foul 
conspiracy  and  murder,  many  of  these  being  men  of  consideration 
in  the  community ;  whilst  the  uninitiated  have  been  driven  to  an 
excitement  alarming  to  the  tranquillity  of  the  country,  loud  and 
long  kept  up.  The  number  of  criminal  trials  to  which  the  finil 
dealing  with  William  Morgan  gave  rise,  may  be  said  to  be  unpre- 
cedented; and  yet,  from  the  death  of  certain  individuals,  the 
absconding  of  others,  and  the  wonderful  closeness  and  unanimity 
of  the  masons,  no  one  has  been  brought  to  condign  punishment  for 
the  murder,  though  several  have  been  convicted  of  the  conspiracy 
as  to  the  abduction.  In  the  mean  time,  the  work  purporting  to  dis- 
close the  secrets,  and  to  be  an  entire  revelation  of  the  first  three 
degrees  of  free-masonry  appeared,  accompanied  with  a  notice  that 
the  illustration  qf  the  higher  degrees  would  be  forthcoming. 

The  present  work  professes  not  to  treat  of  jthe  secrets,  nor  io 
expose  the  principles  of  free-masonry,  but  to  show  the  social 
depravity  engendered  by  the  institution^  as  illustrated  in  the  ab- 
duction and  murder  of  William  Morgan.  In  a  future  paper  we 
presume  that  the  author  will  enter  farther  into  the  subject.  In  the 
meanwhile,  he  declares  that  the  oaths  he  quotes  are  taken  by 
masons,  by  which  they  voluntarily  outlaw  themselves,  as  he  thinks, 
and  as  we  think,  from  the  civil  union. 

*•  We  have  been  led  into  these  remarks,  from  having  read  the  oath 
taken  by  all  Free- Masons  at  their  admission  to  the  m5)9onic  body,  which 
oath  not  only  forbids  the  making  known  any  of  the  secrets  of  Freet> 


lUuMtrattoM  of  Social  Dopromiy,  538 

If  asonr7,  but  binds  the  person  t»king  it,  to  do  as  he  mil  be  kiilruoted 
by  the  body^  no  nuUter  what  that  imtruction  may  be.  We  care  not 
what  the  Masons  themselves  may  say  in  denial  of  this  charge;  if  they 
say  it  is  not  proved  here,  we  will  prove  it  in  pur  future  paper  on  Free- 
Masonry;  and  we  will  not  be  surprised,  that  every  Mason  denies  its 
truth.  But  it  is  not  to  them  that  we  address  ourselves ;  they  are  not 
capable  of  reasoning  upon  the  subject,  as  they  have  surrendered  their 
liberty  of  free  debate,  when  they  became  Masons,  and  are  bound  by  their 
oath  to  withhold  acknowledgment  of  the  truth  of  our  statement.  In 
proof  of  which,  we  give  one  of  the  Oaths  taken  by  all  Free- Masons : — 

'•  *  I  hereby  solemnly  vow  and  swear,  in  the  presence  of  Almighty  God, 
and  this  Right  Worshipful  Assembly,  that  I  will  hail  and  conceal,  and 
never  reveal  the  secrets  or  sccresy  of  Masons  or  Masonry,  that  shall  be 
revealed  unto  me,  unless  to  a  true  and  1  wful  brother  after  an  examina- 
tion, or  in  a  just  and  worshipful  lodge  of  brothers  and  fellows  well  met. 
2d,  I  furthermore  promise  and  vow,  that  I  will  not  write  them,  print 
them,  mark  them,  carve  them,  or  engrave  them,  or  cause  them  to  be 
written,  printed,  marked,  carved,  or  engraved  on  wood  or  stone,  so  as 
the  visible  character  or  impression  of  a  letter  may  appear,  whereby  it 
may  be  unlawfully  obtained.  All  this  under  no  less  penalty,  than  to 
have  my  throat  cut,  my  tongue  taken  from  the  roof  of  my  mouth,  my 
heart  plucked  from  under  my  left  breast,  then  to  be  buried  in  the  san4 
of  the  sea,  the  length  of  a  cable-rope  from  shore,  where  the  tide  ebbs 
and  flows  twice  in  twenty-four  hours,  my  body  to  be  burned  to  ashes,' 
my  ashes  to  be  scattered  upon  the  face  of  the  earth,  so  that  there  shall 
be  no  resemblance  of  me  among  Masons.  So  help  me  God.' " — pp  1 — 3. 

Several  other  oaths  are  set  down,  and  declared  to  be  those 
talLen  by  higher  degrees  iu  masonry.  The  following  is  said  by  the 
author  to  be  part  of  a  master  mason's  oath. 

**  *  Furthermore^  do  I  promise  and  swear,  that  a  Master  Mason^s 
secrets  given  to  me  in  charge  as  such,  and  I  knowing  them  to  be  such^ 
shall  remain  as  secure  and  inviolable  in  my  breast  as  in  his  own^  when 
communicated  to  me,  murder  and  treason  excepted  ;  and  they  left  to  my 
own  election.  Furthermore,  do  J  promise  and  swear,  that  I  will  go 
on  a  Master  Mason*s  errand,  whenever  required,  even  should  I  have  to 
go  barefoot,  and  bareheaded,  if  within  the  length  of  my  cable-tow. 
Furthermore,  do  I  promise  and  swear,  that  I  will  be  aiding  and  assisting 
all  poor  indigent  Master  Masons,  their  wives  and  orphans,  wheresoevet 
dispersed  round  the  globe,  as  far  as  in  my.  power,  without  injuring 
myself  or  family  materially.  Furthermore,  do  I  promise  and  swear,  that 
if  any  part  of  this  my  solemn  oath  or  obligation  be  omitted  at  this  time, 
that  I  will  hold  myself  amenable  thereto,  whenever  informed.  To  all 
which  I  do  most  solemnly  and  sincerely  promise  and  swear,  with  a  fixed 
and  steady  purpose  of  mind  in  me,  to  keep  and  perform  the  same,  bind- 
ing myself  under  no  less  a  penalty  than  to  have  my  body  severed  in  two' 
in  the  midst,  and  divided  to  the  north  and  south,  my  bowels  burned  to 
ashes  in  the  centre,  and  the  ashes  scattered  before  the  four  winds  of 
heaven,  that  there  might  not  the  least  track  or  trace  of  remembrance 
remain  among  men  or  Masons  of  so  vile  and  perjured  a  wretch  as  I 
should  be,  were  I  ever  to  prove  wilfully  guilty  of  violating  any  part  of 
this  my  solemn  oath  or  obligation  of  a  Master  Mason.  So  help  me  God^ 
iand  keep  me  steadfast  in  the  due  performance  of  the  same.' " — pp.  6^  7< 


Mwrdet  and  tToasea  ar»  excepted  ia  Uia  above  o«ih,  but  we  sro 
tiild  by  the  autW  that  the  foUwing  is  part  of  tliat  ^rtiicb  li  takoa 
by  tbe  royal  arch  masonau 

^  ^  FNirthennore,  do  I  promise  and  swear,  tttat  I  will  aid  and  assist  a 
companion  Royal  Arch  Mason,  when  engaged  in  any  difficulty,  and  espouse 
his  cause,  so  far  as  to  extricate  him  from  the  same,  if  in  my  power,  whether 
he  be  right  or  wrong;.  Also,  that  I  will  promote  a  companion  Royal  Arch 
Mason's  political  preferment  in  preference  to  another  of  equal  qualifications. 
Furthermore,  do  I  promise  and  swear,  that  a  'companion  Royal  Arch 
Mason's  secrets,  giren  me  in  charge  as  sach,  and  I  knowing  them  to  he 
such,  shall  remain  as  secure  and  mviolable  in  my  breast  as  in  his  own, 
HTxanER  AND  TRKASOW  N»T  EXCKPTED.  .Furthermore,  do  I  promise  and 
swear,  that  I  will  be  aiding  and  assisting  all  poor  and  indigent  Royal  Arch 
Masons,  their  widows  and  orphans,  whereyer  dispersed  around  the  globe, 
so  far  as  in  my  power,  without  material  injury  to  myself  or  family.  AH 
which  I  most  solemnly  and  sincerely  promise  and  swear,,  with  a  firm  and 
steadfast  resolution  to  perform  the  same,  without  any  equivocation,  mental 
reservation,  or  self-evasion  of  mind  in  me  whatever ;  binding  myself  nnder 
no  less  penahy  than  that  of  having  my  skull  smote  off,  and  my  brains  ex-* 
posed  to  the  scorching  rays  of  the  sun,  shonld  I  ever  knowingly,  or  wil* 
lingly,  violate  or  transgress  any  part  of  this  my  solemn  oath  or  oUtgatiott, 
of  a  -Royal  Arch  Mason.  So  help  me  Grod,  and  keep  me  steadftist  in  the 
performance  of  the  same."* — pp.  9,  10; 

As  to  the  American  wort  which  has  published  the  disclosures^ 
we  can  say  nothiag^  never  having  seen  it.  But  there  is  something 
in  the  remarks  that  we  now  quote  from  the  volume  before  U8>  as 
worthy  of  credit. 

"  ft  forms  no  part  of  the  task  we  have  at  present  assumed,  to  discuss 
thedsdms  which  these  revelations  have  to  entire  au^enticity.  Upon  this  point 
t&tt  p«Mic  wili  be  eaaUfd  to  draw  a  tolevably  carveol  coiieliniiMiy  from  the 
unparaUeled  exertions  made  hy  the  Iratemi^,  in?  lihe  first  instance^  to  aup^ 
pcoM»  asad  whan  that  end  kad  ^dled»*  to  (fiaoedit  kliem«  The  distant  Ma^ 
aonic  ^seBcia^ns,.  moreover^  wcoe  taught  to  believe  there  was  danger  to 
W  apfirelended  from  these  disdoaares^  by  tbe  arrival  oi  confidentiai  me»>* 
aengera  from  the  offieera  of  the  Giand  Lodge  of  New  York,  with  an  addi-* 
tional'  ehack^word,  to  guard  the  lodges  from  the  iniruaion  of  **  Morgaa 
Maaona/  aa  the  readers;  of  his  book  weve.  tailed.  Thir  cfaeeL-woid  is  fnb* 
Ijahedr  among  other  predeas  secrets,  in  '*  AUynV  RituaL'  If  these  dr* 
emnfltaaaea*  da  not  fix  the  character  of  the  vevelations^ia  qpwstien,  periia|» 
ai  stiU  stranger  mfieiaKt  may  be  drawn  from  the  fact,  thai  Morgan, 
tshether  dead)  oc  Eving;  wast  evei^wherc,  ky  the  onitad  wifee  «f  Masonry, 
danounced  aa  a  ruuvasv  T«4iVQfito  the  katitatibn^  He  oaald  not  hare 
becB  a  iuLaiT0B  if  his  nevelafeioas  vi-«jne  JteHoKS^  baS  only  an  impeater  opoa 
(he  pubHc;  as  the  wosld  believed  the  aotfaoc  of  *-  iachin  and  Buaa'  to  haM 
baenJ'-** pp.  61,62. 

The  author  goes  into  a  circumstantial  account  of  all  connected 
with  WilHam  Morgan'ls  abduction,  tracing  the  cruelties  practised 
upon  him^  as  disclosed  in  the  course  of  future  investigations  and 
criminal  trials,  down  to  a  point  where  the  reader  feefo  the  neitt 
atept  wiH  be  that  of  murder,  .and  which  there  is  aa  doubt  tlie  poor 
Tietim  encountered^  although  the  particulars  of  tfaia  last  afmiti 


are  not  known.  In  proof  of  th»  piibGc  ioniignatioii,  foosed  by  the 
series  yid  tissue  of  crimes  practised  upon  Morgan,  Judge  ThroopV 
address  to  ana  OQwictjod  a^  bi^vix^  bad  a  haiMl  in^  the  abtlucfion, 
maj  be  qu<rted. 

"  *  You  have  been  convicted/  9aid  the  jiidge,  •  of  a  daring,  wicked,  and^ 
preaumptuoua  crime — such  au  one  as  we  did  hope  would  not,  in  our  day, 
have  jioUuted  this  land.  You  have  robbed  the  state  of  a  citizen^  a  citizen  of 
bis  liberty,  a  wife  of  a  husband,  and  a  family  of  helpless  children  of  the 
endearments  and  protecting  care  of  a  parent.  And  whether  tjie  unfor- 
tunate victim  of  your  rage  has  been  immolated,  or  is  in  the  land  of  the 
living,  we  are  ignorant,  and  even  you  do  not  pretend  to  know.  It  ia 
admitted  in  this  case,  and  stands  proved,  that  Morgan  was,  by  a  hypo- 
critical pretence  of  friendship  and  charity,  and  that  too  in  the  imposing 
ahape  of  pecuniary  relief  to  a  distressed  and  poverty-bound  prisoner, 
beguiled  to  entrust  himself  with  one  of  your  number,  who  seized  him,  as 
^oon  aa  a  confederate  arrived  to  his  aid,  almost  at  his  prison-door,  and  m 
the  night  time  hurried  him  into  a  carriage,  and  forcibly  transported  him 
out  of  the  state.  But  great  as  are  the  individual  wrongs  which  you 
have  inflicted  on  these  helpless  and  wretched  human  being's,  they  are  not 
the  heaviest  part  of  your  crime.  You  have  disturbed  the  public  peace— 
you- have  dared  to  raise  your  parricidal  arms  against  the  laws  and  con- 
stitution of  your  grovemment — you  have  assumed  a  power  which  f» 
iacompatible  with  a  due  subordination  to  the  laws  and  public  authority 
of  your  state.  He  was  a  citizen,  under  the  protection  of  our  laws-;  you 
were  citizens,  and  owed  obedience  to  them.  What  hardihood  and  wick- 
edness then  prompted  you  to.  steel  your  hearts  agarnst*  the  claims  of 
humanity,^  a,nd  to  dare  set  at  defiance  those  lawa  to  which  y^u  awed! 
submission,  and  which  cannot  suffer  a  citizen's  liberty  to  be  restrained 
with  impunity,  without  violating  its  dutiea  o£  proteckioii^  ascosed  to 
every  individual  undei  the  social  compact? 

^  '  Our  laws  will  resent  such  a^btaoka  aa  yei»  ba^e  siade  upon  tb^ir 
severeignty.  Your  eonduel  baa  crea^  in  the;  people  of  this  section  o£ 
tbe  emtntry  a  strong  feeling  of  virtuous  indignation*,  The  court  rejoicea 
t0i  Wklnew  iV^t»  be  made  sure  that  a,citl^n's  person  cannot  be  invaded 
b^  lawless  ^ifif^nce,  wijLhout  its.  bmng  felt  by  every  individual  in,  the. 
community.  It  is  a  bley^sed  spirit ;  and  we  do  hope  that  it  will  not  sub.* 
side— rthat  it  will  be  accompauied  by  a  ceaseless  vigilance,,  and  untiring, 
activity,  until  every  actor  io  this  profligate  conspiracy  is  hunted  from  hiar 
hijling-place,  and  brought  before  the  tribunals  of  the  countiy,  to  reeeiw 
tj|u»  punishment  merited  by  his  crime.  We  think  that  we  see  n»  tii»- 
public  sensation,  the  spirit  whiQb  l^ought  us  into  exktenes  aa  a  nation, 
and  a  pledge  that  our  rights  and  liberties  ase  dsstiaed  to  endNire.  Bus 
this  is  not  all;  youp  off^ue  was  not  the  result  of  passion  suddenly  ex.-* 
oited^  nor  the  deed  of  one  individual.  It  wiaa  pReconcenied,  detiberatsdl 
upon,  and  carried  into  effeoi»  by  the  dictates;  of  the  secret  counQils»  sad 
aonolave  of  many  a(^U>rs»  U  takes  its  deepest  hues  of  g^lt  from  a  coa- 
Bfrnfj-^ti  crime  most  dreaded*  froip.  the  depravity  of  heart  it  evinces, 
^be  power  for  unlawful  purees  which  it  combines,,  and  from,  its  ability 
to  defy  the  power  of  the  law,  and  its  ultimate  danger  to  the  public  peace. 
Hence  it  is,  that  the  crime  is  considered  Hill,  when  the  wicked  purpose 
is  proved  to  have  been  formed;  and  the  subesqusnt  sanying^ints  efl^ct 


586  .  IU99irtUiom$  of  Social  Dtprwity. 

th^  object  of  the  eoiispiney,  does  not,  m  the.  ejFe  of  the  law,  elevate  the 
4egree  of  the  erime/*' — pp.  82 — 84. 

The  interest  excited  by  William  Morgan's  case  tfarongbout  the 
northern  states  of  America^  may  be  judged  of  from  the  third  pro- 
clamation of  Governor  Clinton  respecting  it. 

"  *  Whereas,  the  measures  adopted  for  the  discovery  of  William  Mor- 
gan, after  his  unlawful  abduction  from  Canandaigua  in  September  hut, 
have  not  been  attended  with  success ;  and  whereas  many  of  the  good 
citizens  of  this  state  are  under  an  impression,  from  the  lapse  of  time  and 
other  circumstances,  that  he  has  been  murdered : — Now,  therefore,  to 
the  end  that,  if  living,  he  may  be  restored  to  his  family,  and  if  murdered, 
that  the  perpetrators  may  le  brought  to  condign  punishment,  I  have 
thought  fit  to  issue  this  proclamation,  promising  a  reward  of  one  thou- 
sand dollars  for  the  discovery  of  the  offender  or  offenders,  to  be  paid  on 
conviction  and  on  the  certificate  of  the  attorney-general,  or  officer  pro- 
secuting on  the  part  of  the  state,  that  the  person  or  persons  claiming  the 
said  last- mentioned  reward,  is  or  are  justly  entitled 'to  the  same  under 
this  proclamation.  And  I  further  promise  a  free  pardon,  so  far  as  I  am 
authorised  under  the  constitution  of  this  state,  to  any  accomplice  or  co- 
operator  who  shall  make  a  full  discovery  of  the  offender  or  offenders. 
And  I  do  enjoin  it  upon  all  officers  and  ministers  of  justice,  and  all  ofber 
persons,  to  be  vigilant  and  aptive  in  bringing  to  justice  the  perpetraton 
of  a  crime  so  abhorrent  to  humanity,  and  so  derogat«)ry  from  the  ascend- 
ancy of  law  and  good  order. 

^*  *  (L.  S.)  In  witness  whereof  I  have  hereunto  set  my  hand  and  the 
privy  seal,  at  the  city  of  Albany,  this  nineteenth  day  of  March,  A.D. 
1827.  "  •  Db  Witt  Cunton.'" 

It  was  an  unprecedented  case  of  conspiracy,  .were  we  even  to 
embrace  the  whole '  range  of  modem  history ;  and  afibrds  any 
toy  thing  but  a  flattering  picture  of  the  vigilance  of  the  American 
magistracy  of  those  parts,  or  of  the  predominance  of  manly  virtues 
amongst  thie  numerous  free-masons  that  distinguish  American 
society.  Can  any  one  believe  that  a  similar  series  of  dimeB  to 
what  this  volume  unfolds,  could  be  perpetrated  in  Britain  ?  We 
do  not  suppose,  were  we  to  select  from  the  men  of  greatest  violence, 
in  every  grade  of  life,  not  to  speak  of  those  belonging  to  any  one 
order^  that  we  could  find  in  our  country  the  stem  calculatiny  una- 
nimity, and  consummate  steadiness  of  criminal  purpose  and  deed 
that  has  disgraced  America  through  their  free-masons.  We 
cannot,  at  any  rate,  allow  British  free-masons  to  be  implicated  in 
Morgan's  case,  provided  they  suitably  resent  the  insult^  and  throw 
back  the  stain  that  has  been  cast  upon  their  order  in  America. 
But  if  they  do  not  this,  they  must  either  deny  the  accoua^bdbre 
us,  or  become,  by  their  countenance,  accessories  after  the  act  to 
the  atrocities  committed.  They  must,  at  least  declare  to  their 
former  brethren,  "  You  are  no  longer  of  us."  The  author  sums 
up  one  of  his  chapters  thus  : 

**  Such  was  the  melancholy  fate  of  William  Morgaur— a  free  American, 
citizen,  whose  death  is  unavenged.    He  was  stolen  from  the  bosom  of 


IlhMtntifmi  of  Social  Dtptmiiy^  537 

his  family  by  aa  infamous  perversion  df  the  forms  of  Jaw-^he  was 
thrust  into  prison  for  the  gratification  of  private  malignity — he  was 
kidnapped  under  the  guise  of  friendship — transported  lik^  a  malefactor, 
one  hundred  and  fifty  miles,  through  a  populous  country—  and  executed 
in  cold  blood,  by  a  gang  of  assassins,  under  circumstances  of  as  damning 
atrocity  as  ever  stained  the  annals  of  human  delinquency!  Nor  was 
the  crime  perpetrated  by  ignorant  or  hungry  banditti,  or  for  the  lust  of 
power  or  of  gold.  The  circle  of  the  conspirators  embraced,  directly  and 
indirectly,  hundreds  of  intelligent  men,  acting  not  on  the  spur  of  the 
occasion,  from  sudden  impulse  or  anger,  but  after  long  consultations^ 
and  weeks  and  even  months  of  preparation.  Those  immediately  en- 
gs^ed  in  the  conspiracy  were  men  of  information,  and  of  high  standing 
in  their  own  neighbourhoods  and  counties— embracing  civil  officers  of 
almost  every  grade ;  sheriffs,  legislators,  magistrates,  lawyers,  physicians, 
and  even  those  whose  calling  it  was  to  minister  at  the  altar  in  holy 
things.  Along  the  route  of  the  captive,  the  members  of  the  Maiionic 
iraternity  left  their  occupations,  however  busily  or  urgently  engaged, 
and  flew  at  a  moment's  warning  to  aid  in  his  transportation  to  the  spot 
where  his  sufferings  were  ended.  A  clergyman  preceded  him,  more- 
over, heralding  his  approach  from  town  to  town,  and  announcing  his 
captivity  to  the  assembling  brethren,  before  whom  he  was  simultaneously 
to  deliver  a  discourse,  dedicating  a  Masonic  temple  to  the  service  of  €k>d 
and  the  holy  St.  John,  and  enforcing  the  golden  maxims  of '  fkacb, 
.HARMONY,  AND  BROTUBRLT  LOVE  I'  Arrived  at  the  end  of  his  journey, 
the  wretched  victim  was  imprisoned  in  a  fortress,  over  which  the  banner 
of  freedom  was  streaming  in  the  breeze.  In  vain  did  he  plead  for  his 
life ;  and  in  vain  did  he  implore  the  privilege  of  once  more  beholding 
his  wife  and  children  I  And  what  was  the  mighty  offence  of  the 
miserable  man,  that  he  must  thus  be  hurried  to  his  final  account,  without 
being  allowed  a  last  farewell  of  his  wife — without  suffering  a  single  ray 
of  divine  light  to  glance  across  his  path,  or  illumine  the  dark  atmosphere 
of  his  dungeon — but  sent  to  his  dread  abode  .with  all  his  imperfections 
.  on  his  head  ?  Why,  forsooth,  he  was  about  to  expose  the  wonderful 
secrets  of  Free-Masonry  1  -  It  was  feared  he  would  tell  how  *  poor  blind 
candidates'  are  led  about  a  lodge-room  by  a  '  cable  tow,*  and  how  they 
kneel  at  the  altar,  at  one  time  on  one  knee,  and  at  another  time  upon 
the  other!  It  was  feared  he  would  tell  how  they  stumble  over  the 
emblems  of  *  the  rugged  path  of  human  life,'  or  bend  with  humility 
beneath  '  the  living  arch !'  "—pp.  242—244. 

The  last  inquiry  in  this  volume  regards  the  extent  to  which  the 
American  superior  lodges  have  made  themselves  partien  to  the 
crimes  previously  described.  The  argument  here  maintained  is 
strong ;  with  a  portion  of  it  we  close  our  paper. 

**  In  the  month  of  February,  1827,  five  months  after  the  perpetration  of 
the  crime,  the  grand  chapter  rejected  a  proposition,  offering  a  reward  of 
1000  dollars  for  the  discovery  and  apprehension  of  the  authors  of  it : 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  they  appropriated  the  like  sum  of  1000  dollars, 
,  under  the  pretext  of  unspecified  charity,  but  in  fact  to  be  used  for  the 
aid,  comfort,  and  assistance  of  the  criminals.  In  the  month  of  March,  of 
the  same  year,  Howard,  one  of  the  murderers,  by  his  own  confession, 
was  cherished  by  certain  of  the  masons  of  New  York ;  he  was  kept  in  con* 


^Mlment  l^om  Ae«Adet»  of  jtul^e ;  funds  tret^  nitod  tot  tdilit  luid  hb 
WW  finallj  smuggrled  i^erois  Lotig  Island,  ttid  put  on  bcttktl  one  of  Vbb 
foreign  pnckett  off  Gturesend  or  Con^  tsknd.  In  the  month  of  June, 
«f  Ibe  same  year,  the  sum  of  100  doUiirs  Was  voted  from  the  fund^  of  ib/b 
grand  lodge  to  EH  Bruce  |  lind  the  additional  sum  for  which  he  had 
applied,  was  raised  for  hitn  by  th«  hrethren  out  of  the  kdge.  In  tfa^ 
aulumn  of  theaame  y«ar,  the  sum  of  600  dollars  ^as  appropriated  from 
the  funds  of  die  Jerusalem  Chapter  df  Netr  Vork,  for  thCf  b«n^t  of  '^  the 
western  sufferers/'  as  thd  oonspirators  l^ere  caTkd.  Money  for  the  same 
object,  was  raised  by  one  of  the  encampments  in  New  York.  Other 
hidges  and  chapters  of  the  same  city,  contributed  to  the  same  object;  and 
the  euin  of  500  dollar  was  subsequently  applied  to  iht  same  cfaaritabk 
purposes  by  the  gfrand  lodg^. 

^  It  has  been  said,  however,  in  extenuation  of  most  of  these  apptt>piia<- 
lions  of  mcney  by  the  lodges  and  chapters,  that  when  they  were  made, 
those  who  Toted  mr  them  did  so  under  a  beKef  that  great  oppression  was 
experienced  by  the  accused  at  thd  west-^that  in  fact,  -^irhen  the  appro- 
priations were  made,  it  was  no«  believed  that  toy  very  considerable  crime 
had  been  committeit  ;^and,  in  short,  it  has  been  mitintahied  tliat  those 
voting  the  money  honestly  belief^  the  accused,  to  whodir  it  was  going, 
to  be  innocent  atid  pei«ecuted  m^n.    Such,  we  are  willing  to  admit,  to  4 
certain  extent,  was  the  fact;  but  sfu^sh^  we  have  the  best  reason  for  be- 
lieving, wasy  in  a  very  limited  degree,  the  true  state  of  the  case.  Hoioevet^ 
m  qU  mtimdes,  the  mAsi^r-^ipirits  knew  tt>el/  enMtffk  the  ttue  siaie  ofihe 
ease;  and,  both  in  the  Grand  Lodge  and  Grand  Chapter,  at  the  times 
of  making  the  sppropriations,  many  of  the  Conspirators  Were  themselves 
present,  wearing  the  l&mb'Skin  emblems  of  innocence,  and  taking  part 
in  the  proceedings  1     Making,  however,   all  possible    allowancesr,  will 
it  justify  the  assisting  away  ef  Howard,  and  the  ad^^anchtg  of  money 
to  enable  Burrage  Smith  to  ffy  to  New^rleans,  and  Howahl  to  Eng- 
land*   Nor  can  even  this  excuse  avail  to  any  extent,  fbr  nkore  than  a 
very  short  period*  Gvanf,  fbr  the  sake  of  argument,  that  a  mi^oifity  of  die 
members  of  the  Grand  Lodge  and  Grand  Chapter,  at  the  time  of  making 
those  appropriations,  did  suppose  the  accu^d  were  innocent,  they  nndt 
have  aoon  been  undeceived.  l7po»  what  principle,  then,  are  we  tb  account 
for  their  Bubs<quent  conduct  1  'f  rials  of  the  conspirators  were  occnrring 
«very  few  months^  and  volumes  of  appalling  testimony  lirere  following 
«Bch  other  in  rapid  succession,  placing  tlie  innocence  of  the  accused,  and 
numerous  unknown  accomplices,  entirely  out  of  the  question'"'— frfif  ito 
esample  was  made  of  any  of  these.    In  the  earlier  part  of  the  excite- 
ment, several  members  of  the  order  were  tried  for  the  conspiracy,  and 
convicted  by  their  own  confessions — but  fwne  of  these^  ^oen  to  tUs  dojf^ 
hate  been  expelled  from,  eithef  lodge  or  chapier.     Several  more  have 
been  convicted,  after  warmly  contested  trials,  who,  with  the  former, 
have  served  out  their  respective  term&  of  imprisonmenrt^ftuf  notie  of 
ik^9e  kaoe  bem.  ewpeUed*    Witnesses  hate  stood  mnte,  braving  the  au- 
thority of  the  civil  law;  even  in  the  presence  of  the  highest  of  the  crl- 
mmal  tribunafe-^dut  none  of  these  have  been  etpelied.     Other  wit- 
nesses have  refosed  to  testify,  expressly  upon  the  ground  that  in  doing 
ao,  they  must  ofimianter  themselve^-'-^et/i^  htxve  these  been  eatpeUmL 
Witnasno  have  ttstided  fklsely,  as  their  siibee^nt  examinationa  btvn 


Ct^mm  Fa9ttr'$  Vvpige,  M9 

fully  pronred«-«SMM^  kai99  thesa  been  expeUed,  It  ^»  beA  ^oml  i» 
oourt,  over  and  over  again,  that  the  neasoret  for  the  abdixctioQ  cf  Moiv 
gan  w«re  concerted  in  the  lodges  and  chapters  of  the  west — hui  tAe  war* 
rants  for  s^ch  lodges  and  chapters  have  never  been  reeaUed,  Indeed, 
there  has  never  yet  been  vttered  from  the  walls  of  either  lod§e  or  oA<y^• 
ter,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest^  an  expression  of  real  eenswre^  er  ef 
honest  indignation  against  any  individual^  however  elearly  it  masf 
have  been  mown  thatihe  was  engaged  in  depriving  a  free  eitizen  of  las 
Hberty,  and  putting  him  to  death  in  cold  blood  I  And,  therefore^  the 
Social  Depravitt  of  the  Free-Masons  shines  forth  in  all  its  hloody 
lustre.**— pp.  262—266. 

.AB1^.  X.^^Narmtive  ef  a  Voyage  te  the  Sewtkem  Atlantic  Ocsan^in  the 
•    years  1828, 29,  d(^  performed  m  H.  M.  Sloop^  Chanticleer^  nnder  the 

command  of  the  late  Cqpt.  Henry  Foster,  F.R.S^  ^.    Br  W.  H. 

B.  Webstbr.     2  Tols.     London :  Bentley.     1834. 

Captain  Foster  had  served  as  astronomer  with  Sir  Edward  Parry, 
in  the  Polar  regions ;  and  for  the  valuable  experiments  then  made 
by  him,  obtained  the  Copley  medal  of  the  Royal  Society.  It  was 
at  the  suggestion  of  the  council  of  that  learned  body,  that  the  pre- 
sent scientific  voyage  was  undertaken,  and  the  care  of  it  entrusted 
lo  Captain  Foster.  Tlie  principal  object  contemplated,  was  to 
ascertain  the  true  figure  of  the  earth,  by  a  series  of  pendulum 
experiments,  at  various  places  in  the  northern  and  southern  hemis- 

Sheres.  As  the  author  states,  this  method  of  solving  a  problem 
epends  on  the  force  of  gravity  at  difierent -parts  of  the  earth's  sur- 
face ;  in  producing  a  greater  or  less  number  of  vibrations  of  the 
pendulum  in  a  certain  space  of  time ;  which  is  found  to  vary,  ac- 
cording to  the  distance  of  the  place  of  observation  from  the  earth's 
centre.  Another  object  was,  to  measure  accurately  the  meridian 
distances  by  means  of  chronometers,  between  the  vtirious  places 
visited  by  the  Chanticleer.  Several  other  inquiries,  relating  to 
meteorology,  the  currents  of  the  ocean,  magnetism,  &c.^  were 
combined  with  the  foregoing  objects.  In  a  lengthened  appendix, 
many  of  the  results  of  Captain  Foster's  observations  are  giveii> 
extracted  from  the  reports  of  the  men  of  science  appointed  by  thje 
admiralty  to  consider  these  observations,  which  we  do  not  purpose 
to  enter  upon,  confining  ourselves  to  the  narrative  of  the  authcm, 
who,  as  the  title-page  of  his  woric  informs  the  reader,  was  surgeon 
to  the  Chanticleer. 

Of  this  narrative  there  need  not  be  much  said.  It  is  certainly 
pleasant  light  reading,  such  as  any  man  who  has  the  use  of  his 
pen  might  write,  were  he  to  visit  the  same  places  and  see  the  same 
things  that  the  author  did.  It  is  in  truth  a  gossiping  book,  spun 
outbyteOingnsverymanythingswhichwe  have  heard  scores  of  times 
befbre,  and  plainly  showing  that  the  chief  consideration  was,  how 
two  volumes  were  to  be  filled.  The  matter,  the  printing,  the  whole 
appearance  of  the  work,  prove  that  it  has  come  &om  a  book  nxuio- 
foctory.  As  we  have  already  stated,  however,  the  author  writes 
pleasantly — we  may  add,  tastefully ;  and  as  he  has  something  t8 


&40  Cfipt0m  Fa0ter's  V(^9$^^ 

MfcT  of  every  thing  be. Bees,  lieiog  clearly  at  the  6ain0  tiine  a  most 
indefatigable  journalist,  it.  is  easy  to  cull  .abundance  of  interesting 
descriptions  and  narratives  from  his  pages^  which  ve  proceed  to 
do ;  for  we,  at  lea^t,  never  tire  of  reading  accounts  of  far  distant 
elimes,  people,  and  things.  Voyages  and  travels,  in  our  earliest 
years >  vied  for  supremacy  in  pur  liking  with  novels  and  romances; 
but  now  they  hold  an  undisputed  reign.  So  that,  were  we  to-mor- 
row to  meet  with  another  narrative  of  the  voyage  here  described, 
by  some  other  one  of  the  Chanticleer *s  company,  we  would  seize 
upon  it  and  greedily  run  over  its  pages,  pirovided  they  were  written 
in  an  easy  and  clear  style. 

\  It  is  proper,  before  proceeding  with  the  narrative,  to  give  a  round 
statement  of  the  magnitude  of  some  of  Captain  Foster's  <4»6rva- 
tions  regarding  points  that  still  occupy  the  j^ttentioa  of  scientific 
men,  as  presented  in  the  appendix.  The  number  of  places  at 
which  he  swung  the  pendulums  amounted  tofourteeu^  extending 
from  London  in  the  northern  hemisphere  to  South  Shetland  in  iht 
southern  hemisphere.  At  all  these  places  each  of  the  brass  in  van* 
able  pendulums  (Nos.  10  and  11)  was  swung  ;  at  six  places  the  iron 
convertible  pendulum  was  swung  on  both  knife-edges,  and  at  eight 
places  the  copper  convertible  pendulum  was  «wung  on  both  knife- 
edges.  The  total  number  of  experiments  made  with  these  pendu- 
lums was  1017  set^ ;  and  as  each  of  the  various  sets  consisted  on 
an  average  of  nearly  twenty  coincidences,  the  total,  number  of  coin- 
cidences taken  at  the  fourteen  stations  was  about  20,000,  and 
occupying  about  2,710  hours.  Hence  it  may  be  inferred,  that  the 
character  of  the  observations  taken  in  this  voyage  of  scientific  re- 
search are  highly  important  and  valuable,  and  that,  with  further  expe- 
riments, may  lead  to  a  solution  of  what  has  hitherto  been  problema- 
tical. Every  thing  was  done  to  render  the  ship  fit  to  perform  the 
extraordinary  service  on  which  she  was  to  be  employed.  The 
ordinary  equipment  Was  departed  from  in  the  internal  arrangements 
of  the  vessel,  and  as  regarded  the  scientific  department,  notiiing 
was  wanting  that  the  skill  of  man  has  provided.  The  Chantideo^s 
'burden  was  two  hundred  and  thirty-seven  tons  ;  the  comjdement  of 
men  fifty-seven,  including  fifteen  officers  and  six  marines. 

Early  in  May,  1828,  Captain  Foster  sailed  firom  England.  On 
the  Morning  of  the  29th  the  sloop  made  the  island  of  St.  Antonio, 
one  of  the  Cape  Verds,  and  one  of  the  places  to  be  stopped  at  for  the 
purpose  of  including  it  in  the  chain  of  meridian  distances,  and  thereby 
getting  its  correct  longitude.  The  part  of  the  island  at  which  they 
landed  was  uninhabited,  excepting  by  one  negro,  who  expressed 
anxiety  to  know  the  object  of  their  visit.  *  They  let  him  under- 
stand that  fish  and  vegetables  would  •  be  acceptable,  and  the  nest 
minute  he  provided  himself  with  a  cane,  armed  at  one  end  with  a 
nail,  and  plunged  into  the  sea.  Here  he  continued  floating  and 
swimming  about,  supporting  himself  in  the  water  with  one  hand, 
while  with  the  other  he  used  his  weapon  among  the  finny  tribe, 
employing  each  hand  alternately  in  this  manner.    By  such 


Capimh  Foittr's  Voyuge,  f54l 

'lie,  iti  fshe  space  of  two  or  three  hours,  which  were  occupied  by  the 
observations,  caught  six  fiiic  cavalloes,  weighing  about  nineteeit 
pounds,  besides  several  snialler  fish.  His  cave  was  small,  ami  ill 
Calculated  to  afford  shelter  in  any  other  than  a  tropical  climate, 
appearing  like  the  residence  of  some  wild  animal,  rather  than  that 
'9?  a  man,  A  few  leaves  answered  the  purpose  of  a  bed  for  this  un- 
ceremonious fisherman,  and  some  broken  calabashes  were  his  only 
titensils.  ^'  Man  wants  but  little  here  below,  nor  wants  that  little 
|ong.'^  They  did  not  learn  the  reason  for  this  hermit's  conduct. 
He  only  occasionally  visited  the  people  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
idia&d. 

As  the  Chanticleer  approached  the  coast  of  Rio  Janeiro,  a 
strange  sail  of  a  suspicious  character  bore  down  upon  them ;  and 
liithough  the  tight  little  sloop  carried  only  two  guns,  not  being  in« 
tended  for  fighting,  the  rakish^looking  schooner  again  changed  her 
course.  Our  countrymen  afterwards  learned  that  the  strange  craft; 
answered  to  the  description  of  a  well-known  pirate  that  had  attack*- 
ed  some  6f  our  vessels  on  that  coast.  On  one  occasion  her  captain 
boarded  a  ship,  and  having  bound  the  master,  threatened  to  blow 
out  his  brains  if  he  did  not  deliver  up  all  his  money,  at  the  same 
time  that  his  men  were  plundering  the  vessel.  The  master  begged 
iiard  that  his  watch  might  be  spared,  as  it  was  his  mother's  gift. 
^^  Fool,"  said  the  ruffian,  *^  I  thought  you  were  old. enough  to  have 
forgotten  your  mother.  What  will  your  mother's  gi&  avaib  you  if 
you  lose  your  life  T'  Although  be  is  said  to  have  spoken  English^ 
4rho  would  not  rather  live  as  the  hermit  negro  did,  than  be  such  a 
wild. sea  robber?   .  " 

In'  tlie  author's  account  of  Rio  Janeiro,  he  states,  that  a  stranger 
^r.  much' struck  at  first  by  the  number  ^ild  condition  of  the  slaves. 
They,  in  the  literal  extent  of  the  phrase,  are  as  beasts  of  burden  to 
jthe  people  of  Rio,  and  are  to  be  seen  litiked  together,  drawing 
44urts  and  sledges  like  the  brutes  that  pevish.  Yet  our  author  de- 
dares,  that  their  uncohc^n  and  hilarity  are  remarkable,  although 
it  is  not  rare  to  see  them  entirely  naked,  exhibiting  shocking  proofis 
of  ill-treatment,  on  the  back,  fSEMoe,  and  neck.  Inanoth^partof  his 
work,'  he  menttoas  having  seen  a  lady  and  her  female  slave  at  needle- 
work together,  when,  from  some  unseen  cause,  the  former  lifted  her 
4eK3issQr9  aud  drove  the  points  of  the  bkd^s  into  the  poor  girl's  head> 
thepeby  producing  a  shocking  aild  dangerous  wound.  And  yet,  the 
4ay  has  not  yet  departed  when  men  may  be  found  in  England,  wbp 
would  take  the  onooncem  and  the  hilarity  of  the  slaves  to  be  a 
«alisfectory  evidence  that  they  .were  happy.  At  Rio,  two-thirds  of 
the  population  are  imbondag^^  ^d?  therefore,  it  is  no  wonder  thai; 
an  armed  force  accompanies  them.  Would  it  be  strange  were  the 
St.  Domingo  tragedy  on  some  future  day  to  be  repeated  in  the 
Capital  of  ^brazil  ? 

rhe  tiiechanical  arts  do  not  seem  to  flourish  in  Monte  Video. 

"  These  primitiTe  vehicl«B  baffle  all  description,  and  belong  to  ages, 
which  have  long  siocegene  by ;  but  nevertheless  the  country  people  re- 
VOL.  Iff.    (1834.)  NO.  IV.  ■  Q  Q 


542  (k^ak^  Foiter'i  Va^ligjg, 

tain  them  with  all  the  regard  that  theur  forefathen  had  before  Uiem*  ttid 
%et  all  impro^emeut  at  defiance.  The  floor  or  bottom  of  the  cart  is  formed 
ofponilerooa,  misshapen  pieces  of  timber,;  the  carriage  pole  is  also  of 
equally  huge  and  unwieldy  dimensions.  The  sides  of  tiie  cart  are  formed 
of  rough  stakes,  lashed  to  the  flooring  by  thongs  of  hide ;  and  the  wheels 
are  remarkable  for  two  good  qualities,  viz.  large  dimensions  and  strength, 
being  about  eight  feet  in  height.  To  this  vehicle  are  attached  four,  and 
sometimes  six  fine  bullocks  in  pairs,  not  yoked,  but  fastened  by  a  heavy 
transverse  epar  resting  on  the  back  of  their  necks,  and  bearing  their  heads 
by  its  enormous  weight  to  the  ground.  The  harness  is  formed  of  hide,  and 
thb  material  is  also  sometimes  applied  to  covering  the  cart.  Those  carts 
which  are  intended  for  expeditious  travelling,  are  furnished  with  moles 
instead  of  oxen,  mounted  by  a  grotesque-looking  rider.  An  equipage  of 
this  description,  attended  by  the  country  people*  in  their  strange  habili- 
ments, presents  a  scene  which  is  calculated  to  excite  pity  at  the  state  of 
ignorance  which  it  displays.  Mules  are  used  for  light  draught,  and  cany- 
ing  packages,  and  horses  also,  for  the  people  make  no  scruple  of  fastening 
a  load  to  their  tails.  Such  a  thing  seems  almost  incredible,  but  my  owa 
observation  warrants  my  stating  the  fact." — vol.  i.  pp.  78 — 80. 

Of  the  various  uses  to  which  the  hides  of  bullocks  are  applied  in 
Monte  Video^  that  of  making  them  instruments  of  punishment  is 
not  the  least  novel.  They  sew  their  prisoners,  it  is  related  of  thera, 
in  a  wet  hide,  leaving  out  the  head  and  neck  only ;  and,  in  this 
condition,  lay  them  on  the  ground,  in  the  sun,  to  dry.  The 
powerful  sun  soon  contracts  the  material — the  increase  of  pressure 
causes  the  most  excruciating  pains  ;  but  if  night  arrives  before  the 
victim  dies,  the  hide  relaxes  with  the  moisture  of  the  air,  to  pro- 
long his  suffering  till  a  second  day,  which  is  generally  his  last. 

The  people  of  Monte  Video  are  great  riders ;  tney  do  almost 
every  thing  on  horseback.  The  gaucho  or  peasant,  for  instance, 
seems  to  be  nobody  without  his  horse.  If  any  thing  is  wanted 
from  the  most  trifling  distance,  he  mounts.  He  sows  his  grain  on 
horseback ;  beggars  have  been  known  to  follow  their  calling  in  the 
same  state.  Another  singular  purpose,  to  whioh  some  kinds  of 
animals  have  been  turned  in  those  parts,  is  that  of  fiiel.  The 
author  heard  of  sheep  having  been  sold  to  heat  a  brick-kiln. 

He  gives  some  amusing  and  interesting  accounts  of  the  Foegan 
people,  as  the  natives  of  Tierra  del  Fuego  are  called ;  with  whom, 
whilst  at  Cape  Horn,  he  had  some  intercourse.  They  are  an  in- 
offensive race,  but  destitute  of  the  comforts  which  moat  other 
uncivilized  tribes  possess.  They  have  not  even  habitations  cal- 
culated to  protect  them  from  the  inclemency  of  the  weather  at  afl 
to  be  compared  with  the  African  negro's  clay-built  hut.  A  few 
green  boughs  of  trees  is  alf  that  the  Fuegaif  makes  use  of  is  the 
construction  of  his  dwelling.     - 

*'  This  miserable  habitation  boasts  not  the  meanest  or  most  comiiioa 
utensil,  and  the  bare  ground  forms  its  floor.  Here  they  sit,  with  occa- 
sionally a  seal-skin  covering  thrown  over  their  shoulders^  and  sometimes 
an  apron  of  some  animal'^s  skun  tied  round  their  middle ;  but  neither  of 
these  appear  by  any  means  to  be  indispensable  articles  of  dress,  and  many 


i 


Ci^mfi  Fv8ttr^0  Voyage.  343 

vse  b  a  «tate  of  Dudity  s  all  saffering  alike  from  the  effects  of  tmoke^  on 
their  eyes.  The  dog,  the  faithful  companion  of  man  in  ev^y  clime,  liv^ 
on  terms  of  the  most  intimate  friendship  with  them,  sharing  alike  tl^eir 
bed  and  hoard.  The  Fuegian  dog  is  an  animal  of  a  good  size,  and.  of  a 
better  appearance  than  mighb  be  expected  from  the  nature  of  his  food- 
The  animal  bears  a  considerable  resemblance  to  a  fox  in  his  general  appear- 
ance ;  he  is  very  ferocious,  and  npt  unlike  an  Esquimaux  dog. 

"  In  one  of  my  visits  to  their  wigwairs.  wiUi  the  view  of  instracting 
tkem  bow  to  be  useful  to  themselves  and  to  eech  other,  a  red  pocket- 
handkerchief  attracted  their  attention.  Tbis  I  presented  to  the  youngest 
female  in  the  company,  whidi  consisted  of  five  persons.  The  ^rl,  to  my 
great  surprize,  deliberately  tore  it  into  ribands,  and  began  to  ornament  her 
faair  with  it;  she  .also  tied  some  pieces  round  her  wrist,  having  previously 
offered  me  some  dried  fish  in  return  for  my  present.  We  had  given  them 
fisb-hookf,  lines,  knives,  needles  and  thread,  scissors,  &c.,  and  I  endea- 
Toored  to  instruct  them  how  to  use  the  latter  articles,  so  essential  to  the 
, economy  and  manufacture  of  dress  among .  ourselves.  The  Fuegians 
are  decidedly  a  tractable  and  docile  people,  fully  capable  of  receiving  in- 
atmction :  an(i  1  took  no  smalls  pains  in  teaching  one  of  the  women  the 
^art  of  using  a  needle  and  thread  to  the  best  of  my  humble  abilities  in 
thai  line,  I  thought  -I  should  have  succeeded  by  the  attention  which  was 
paid  to  me  by  my  pupil ;  for,  although  my  performance  was  none  of  the 
best,  it  was  still  sufficient  to  ^  teach  the  young  idea.'  But,  alas,  it  was  all 
^to  no  purpose.  I  might  have  spared  my  trouble ;  for  the  woman  on  whom 
my  pains  had  been  bestowed,  deliberately  made  a  hole  with  the  needle  and 
then  drew  the  thread  out  of  it,  and  proceeded  quietly  to  insert  it  into  the 
bole  the  needle  had  made.  This  was  the  more  provoking,  because,  in  spite 
of  all  my  instruction,  she  still  persisted  in  doing  it." — vol.  i.  pp.  177 — 179. 

When  at  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope^  the  author  partook  of  the 
kindness  of  the  Dutch  fermers^  and  warmly  acknowledges  their 
hospitality.  He  says,  that  though  inns  or  taverns  be  scarce  on 
the  roads^  they  amply  compensate  for  the  deficiency.  In  the  house 
of  the  Dutch  farmer^  every  traveller^  be  he  who  he  may,  finds  a 
welcome;  and  is  the  most  favourite  guest  at  the  table.  Let  him  dis- 
card all  ceremony,  and  take  his  seat  without  reference  to  any  one,-— 
let  him  help  himself  to  what  he  most  likes, — let  him  eat  heartily, 
and  drink  freely ;  and  let  him  smoke  his  pipe,  and  abuse  the  slaves 
in  their  turn ;  and,  in  the  estimation  of  the  former,  he  is  the  rijght 
sort  of  a  companion.  The  most  genuine,  but  at  the  same  time 
the  most  unpolished  kindness,  marks  the  character  of  the  Dutch- 
mBsx  at  the  Cape.  The  fiarmer  lives  in.  a  lonely  sequestered  v-ale, 
rich  in  flocks  and  herds,  and  abundantlv  blessed  with  the  means 
of  good  living.  He  sits  at  the  head  of  his  table  with  his  hat  cOn, 
his  jMpe  generally  stuck  in  it,  by  wot  of  ornament.  No  one  cim 
stay  too  long  at  his  house,  nor  can  he^ever  wear  out  his  blunt  hos- 
pitality. 

**  When  you  talk  of  leaving,  the  boor  is  distressed,  and  impaediately 
asks  with  the  utmost  simplicity, '  Aii't  I  nice  ? — An't  wife  nice  ? — An't 
slaves  good  ?' — If  business  be  advanced  as  the  excuse  to  go,  he  urges  you 
to  stay  with  *  Never  mind  the  business  now,  do  it  another  time>*    If  you 

qq2- 


544  Captain  Foster  s  Voyage. 

Btill  persist,  he  is  sorry ;  concern  and  regret  are  expressed  by  the  whale 
family;  and  his  slaves  are  drawn  up  to  witness  your  departure.  He  ex- 
pects no  other  acknowledgment  for  his  attention  than  a  pinch  of  snuff  to 
each  of  the  slaves,  who,  when  they  get  it,  immedis^tely  commence  rul|- 
bing  their  teeth  with  it. 

•*  The  Dutch  at  the  Cape  appear  to  agree  with  the  Spanish  proverb 
that  *  haste  comes  from  the  devil,*  for  they  are  most  dilatory  persons  in 
transacting  business.  If  a  Dutchman  calls  on  a  person  there,  and  you 
ask  him  about  the  health  of  his  wife,  give  him  some  refreshment  and 
plenty  of  conversation,  the  probability  is  that  he  will  go  a;way  without 
transacting  the  business  he  came  upon.  He  departs  highly  satisfied  with 
you,  and  calls  you  *•  a  nice  man,'  and  even  '  a  Christian  man/ 

"  Th(i  composure  of  these  people  under  accidents  and  annoyances  ia 
very  remarkable ;  they  are  certainly  the  most  resigned  and  patient  class  of 
beings  under  the  sun.  If  their  waggon  should  stick  fast  in  a  kloof,  ss 
the  morass  is  called  in  the  colony,  or  in  the  sand,  the  Dutchman  betrays 
no  impatience ;  he  quietly  takes  off  his  oxen,  and  lets  it  remain  with 
the  utmost  composure  for  as  many  days  as  may  elapse  until  another  wag*- 

fon  or  a  team  of  oxen  comes  to  his  assistance,  and  extricates  him  from 
is  difficulty.     The  Dutch  women  are  generally  lively  and  affable,  and 
own  as  good-natured  faces  as  ever  were  moulded," — vol.  i.  pp.  261,  262- 

The  Hottentots,  the  rightful  owners  of  the  soil  by  primogeni- 
ture, are  a  small  race  of  people,  not  of  the  handsomest  featiunes, 
but  excellent  herdsmen  and  guides  over  the  deserts.  Their  vision- 
ary powers  the  author  asserts  are  extraordinary ;  their  taste  fbr 
music  is  good,  but  still  they  are  not  far  removed  from  the 
lowest  state  of  uneivilzed  man.  And  here  we  are  glad  to  find 
such  a  testimony  as  the  following  in  behalf  of  a  class  of  phflan- 
ihropists,  that  is  much  belied  by  vulgar  or  darkened  minds,  but 

-who  as  a  body  are  the  most  chivalrously  adventurous  and  disen- 

terested  of  any  the  world  ever  knew: — 

:    "  By  the  exertions  of  the  despised  missionaries  new  fields  of  discovery 

.  have  been  opened  to  the  philosopher.     They  have  penetrated  into  regions 

.jwhich  other  travellers  never  reached,  and  have  explored  parts  before 
unknown*  They  have  presented  man  under  cicutnstancea  the  most  pecu- 
liar and  interesting  in  which  he  can  be  contemplated ;  they  have  added 
new  facts  to  his  natural  history  and  new  features  to  his  physical  character; 

'  they  have  added  ifresh  languages  to  the  list  of  those  already  known ;  they 
have  opened  new  plaqes  of  refuge  for  our  fleets  and  new  channels 
for  our  commerce ;  and  they  have  multiplied  the  friends  of  tiieir  country. 
"  Apart  from  Christianity,  the  labours  of  these  men  must  be  interestmg 
to  the  philosopher,  the  politician,  and  the  philologist ;  and  to  hold  such  men 
up  to  scorn  is  no  less  a  violation  of  good  taste  than  of  prop^  feeling  and 
principle.     By  them  the  kraal  of  the  Hottentpt  hf»  been  supplanfeed  by 

-  the  well-built  village ;  and  the  missionaries  at  Theophilus  (an  inland  es- 
tablishment) have  instructed  the  navtives  in  the  Christian  faith,  and  have 
pretty  well  succeeded  in  making  a  useful  class  of  labourers  and  citizens. 

"  They  have  collected  the  dispersed  wanderers,  have  procured  land  for 
thetn^  and  have  taught  them  to  cultivate  it.  Surely  there  is  a  cc^- 
quest  over  the  human  'inind  that  conciliates  all  it  subdues,  fmd  improves 
idl  that  it  conciliates. 


Ct^lam  Fost^^s  Voyages,  545 

'  *'  A  Freiieh  ohip'  waa  wrecked  while  we  were  at  the  Cape  on  the  coast 
of  Caffiraria.  Five  only  of  her  crew  reached  the  shore,  and  they  were 
moreoyef  plundwedand  ill-treated  hy  the  savages ;  in  fact  they  were  made 
alaves.  A  niissionary  in  the  interior  hearing  of  the  event,  immediately 
faadlene.d  te  their  succoxir ;  he  succeeded  in  liherating  them  from  the  na- 
tives, and  took  them  under  his  protection ;  he  gave  them  every  assistance 
in  his  power,  and  passed  them  across  the  desert  from  one  missionary's 
house  to  another  in  safety,  till  at  length  they  reached  Cape  Town.  And 
this  was  a  journey  of  a  thousand  miles  across  a  barren  desert  country,  in 
the  midst  of  rude  and  lawless  tribes ;  but  these  tribes  paid  more  respect 
to  the  voice  of  the  missionary  than  they  probably  would  to  the  swords 
Here  was  a  triumph ! 

*'  To  succour  the  distressed,  to  relieve  the  afflicted,  and  to  turn  the  un- 
ruly wills  and  affections  of  sinful  men  to  'the  wisdom  of  the  just,'  is  the. 
missionaries'  grateful  task.  Their  houses  in  this  colony  are  as  beacons  in 
the  desert  and  watch-towers  for  the  shipwrecked  mariner,  the  asylums  of 
the  distressed  and  the  abodes  of  peace.  These  holy  men  are  tiie  first  to 
extend  and  the  last  to  withdraw  the  boon  of  charity  and  the  right-hand  of 
fellowship."— vol.  i.  pp.  286,  289. 

At  St.  Helena  the  author  of  course  has  a  good  deal  to  say  of 
the  departed  Great.  Strangers  onlanding  always  first  inquire,  ^^  How 
liar  is  it  to  Napoleon's  Grave  ?"  Of  the  weeping  willows  that  are' 
.there  growing  every  one  has  heard,  about  which,  of  course,  it  is 
impossible  to  add  anything  new.  The  remains  of  the  warrior  he 
says  are  secure  enough.  His  coiSn  is  doubly  cased,  and  fixed  by 
iron  fastenings  to  the  brick  work  of  the  vault  which  contains  it. 
There  is  nothing  new  in  what  follows. 

*'  Loogwood,  once  the  celebrated  residence  of  the  Emperor,  was  in  a 
very  dilapidated  condition  at  the  time  of  the  Chanticleer's  visit  to  St. 
Helena,  and  afforded  in  itself  a  good  lesson  of  the  mutability  of  all  human* 
affairs.     The  rooms  which  he  occupied,  which  were  once  the  state'  apart-* 
ifients  of  the  fallen  Emperor,  W^re  then  filled  by  coNvherds:  and  the  whole' 
suite  of  them  were  converted  into  barns  and  stables  !  Longwood,  once  n^ 
celebrated;  bears  no  vestige  of  its  former  splendour,  and  has  sunk  into 
<3omplete  neglect.     On  the"  walls  may  be  seen  ntrmerous  hieroglyphics,  the 
silntimental  effusions  of  its  quondam  visiters.     Whether  they  are  intended 
to  do  honour  to  their  authors,  or  to  laud*  the  memory  of  its  former  occu^ 
ptmt,  I  know  not ;  bot  sportive  vanity  may  possibly  derive  some  gratificktion 
in  associating  its  name  with  his,  by  scrawling  a  humble  tribute  Of  admir- 
ation on  a  wall.    The  new  house  at  Longwood  is  a  respectable  but  useless 
structure,  and  this  is  even  hastening  to  decay.     But  the  vale  of  Longwood 
affords  some  fishing  and  shooting  to  amateur  sportsmen,  and  it  boasts, 
besides,  some  show  In  agriculture.  — vol.  i.  pp.  361,  362. 

We  frncy  that  were  even  the  coast  round  St.  Helena  calculated 
fcr  sea-bathing>  the  gentry  spoken  of  in  the  next  extract  would 
be  rather  rough  customers  to  mingle  with : — 

'*  The  sea  in  ^e  vicinity  of  St.  Helena  is  celebrated  as  being  infested 
with  sharks.  The  whole  family  of  sharks  are  found  here;  the  blue  shark, 
the  dog  shark,  the  hammer-headed  shark,  the  cooper-headed  shark,  and 
the  mackerel  shark,  all  herd  together,  hungry  for  prey.     They  are  awfully 


A4*  CapimM  FoMter't  Voyage. 

Toneious,  and  may  be  justly  considered  as  the  wolf  or  tiger  of  die 
deep. 

*'  Tbe  stomach  of  this  fish  commences  not  far  from  the  mouth,  and  eEtend* 
nearly  throughout  his  whole  length ;  it  is  in  fact  an  immense  bag,  and  by 
its  loose  integuments  admits  crif  immense  distension.  Tbe  reader  will 
probably  consider  this  as  a  necessary  prelude  to  his  being  informed  that 
an  instance  of  the  Tonicity  of  this  fish  has  been  known  here  in  the  fact  of 
an  artiUeryman.  entire,  aud  with  his  clothes  on,  being  fonnd  in  the  belly 
of  a  large  shark.  Frequent  instances  of  their  attacks  are  known ;  only  % 
few  days  before  we  arrived,  a  Newfoundland  dog,  that  had  jumped  over- 
board to  reach  the  shore,  was  bitten  fairly  into  two  parts  by  a  shark, 
which  having  gulped  down  one  half  of  the  poor  animal,  in  a  few  moments- 
Came  and  seized  the  other.  A  fisherman's  boat  was  once  obliged  to  take 
refuge  alongside  the  Chanticleer  to  escape  from  the  repeated  attacks  of  a 
huge  shark,  which  neither  the  blows  they  gave  it  with  a  spar,  nor  any- 
thing they  did,  could  intimidate.  The  fact  was,  that  there  were  some  fish 
in  the  boAt,  which  it  was  supposed  had  enticed  him,  as  they  were  succes- 
sively hauled  out  of  the  water  by  their  lines. — vol.  i.  pp.  376,  377. 

The  next  place  which  the  Chanticleer  touched  at  was  Ascension, 
an  island  about  twenty  miles  in  circumference.  Its  situation  with 
respect  to  the  African  coast  renders  it  a  most  desirable  place  fur 
the  ships  on  that  station  to  refit  at,  instead  of  Sierra  Leone.  No 
one, .  says  the  author,  that  reflects  on  the  dreadfal  mortality  of 
the  African  clime,  can  do  otherwise  than  sincerely  wish  that  this  pur- 
pose for  Ascension  may  be  fully  verified.  Whilst  the  Chanticleer 
was  at  St.  Helena,  the  Hecla  arrived  from  the  Coast  of  Africa, 
having  lost  her  Captain,  and  so  many  of  her  officers  and  crew,  that 
she  was  almost  unmanned ;  she  was  literally  a  floating  sepulchre, 
from  the  effects  of  the  clime  she  had  left.  But  unless  as  a  port  to 
refit  in,  Ascension  is  described  as  a  most  dreary  and  uninviting  place, 
one  of  the  most  abject  dependencies  on  the  bounty  and  resources  of 
Great  Britain.  It  is,  however,  a  singularly  healthy  spot,  which  is 
enough  to  confer  a  character  of  rare  excellence  in  those  distant  parts 
as  regards  the  estimation  of  the  British.  It  is  in  the  heart  of  the 
south  east  trade  wind,  in  the  midst  of  the  ocean,  with  the  driest  soil 
in  the  world,  and  the  total  exclusive  of  anything  like  swamp  or 
marsh,  whilst  the  absence  of  all  vegetation  n'ees  it  from  any  taint 
or  impurity.  The  average  fall  of  rain  throughout  the  year,  although 
the  seasons  are  extremely  variable,  is  very  limited,  which  adds  greatly 
to  the  natural  disadvantages  of  the  island  ;  still,  according  to  the 
author's  statement  it  has  its  beauties,  and  blessings,  as  the  following 
warm  and  poetic  efiiision  describes. : — 

"  The  weather  at  Ascension  may  be  considered  as  too  fine ;  it  is  far 
too  hot  for  the  enjoyment  of  any  exercise  during  the  day,  which  is  passed 
by  many  there  in  listless  idleness.  The  day-break,  as  is  always  the  case 
in  equatorial  regions,  is  short,  the  sun  bursts  forth  suddenly  in  unclouded 
splendour;  his  heat  becomes  oppressive  in  the  early  part  of  the  morning, 
when  there  is  generally  but  little  wind  to  counteract  his  ra}rs ;  his  force 
throughout  the  day  keeps  the  thermometer  from  84.  to  90  deg.  in  the 


fciierU  Voyage.  Uf- 

abade;  and  tbe  walk  over  the  heated  and  rugged  sur&caQfthe  island, 
where  not  a  solitary  flower  blooms  to  waft  *  its  sweetness  o'er  the  desert 
air,'  and  few  or  no  traces  of  the  most  diminutive  plants  can  be  discerned ; 
where  not  a  rill  of  water  is  to  be  seen,  and  where  no  shady  groves  invite 
the  wandering  step :  all  this  is  far  from  enticing.  But  let  us  give  As- 
cension its  due.  Although  the  heat  at  times  comes  with  puffs  as  hot 
as  the  sirocco,  it  is  tempered  by  a  delightful  sea-breeze.  Towards  the 
evening,  when  the  sun's  heat  is  endurable,  a  person  may  ramble  out,  and 
catch  a  view  of  his  beauties  as  he  departs — one  of  my  most  delightful 
occupations  while  the  Chanticleer  was  at  Ascension.  It  is  impossible  to 
describe  fully  all  the  beauties  of  the  setting  sun ;  and  to  come  at  all  near 
it  would. require  greater  powers  of  imagery  than  mine. 

*'  A  bank  of  clouds  generally  increases  the  effect,  their  tints  and  huea 
varying  as  the  sun  descends  beyond  them,  while  they  frequently  resemble 
distant  mountains  lit  up  with  his  ruby  beams.  If  the  horizon  is  clear, 
he  sets  in  all  his  splendour;  and,  as  he  dips  beneath  the  distant  horizon,, 
the  whole  western  skies  glow  with  the  radiance  of  his  golden  beams.- 
Suddenly,  he  disappears;  twilight  quickly  fades  away  as  he  sinks,  and 
darkness  hastens  on  apace.  But  night  comes  with  peculiar  charms : 
where  the  day  has  no  beauties  to  display  in  the  land,  the  darkness  veils 
its  nakedness :  all  is  serenity,  save  the  murmur  of  the  distant  waves,  or 
the  twittering  shriek  of  some  wandering  sea-fowl.  Not  a  cloud  is  seen 
to  stain  the  purity  of  the  firmament  above,  which,  as  a  glassy  sea  of  azure, 
is  studded  with  its  glorious  host  of  clustering  stars,  shining  with  peculiar' 
lustre.  The  night  at  Ascension  is  the  most  delightful  time  of  the  whole 
twenty-four  hours.'  It  is  in  the  still  serene  hour  of  night  at  Ascension,- 
where  neither  dew  nor  chilly  vapoiu*  falls  to  check  the  full  enjoyment  of 
it,  that  groups  of  its  inhabitants  are  seated  in  social  converse  beneath 
the  canopy  oi  heaven,  or  dwelling  on  the  thought  of  friends  f.r  away;- 
of  England,  home  and  love,  whose  magic  spell  still  holds  the  captive- 
heart,  although  on  a  distant  foreign  strand.  Each  is  eloquent  in  his 
cause,  while  some  relate  heroic  tales  of  honours  dearly  won,  or  ill- re- 
quited service." — vol.  ii.  pp.  4 — 6. 

Fernando  Noronha,  which  consists  of  three  and  distinct  prin- 
cipal islands,  one  of  which  takes  the  distinguishing  name  assigned 
to  the  whole,  the  others  being  considered  mere  appendages,  was  the 
place  next  resorted  to  by  Captain  Foster.  Our  author's  enthu- 
siasm finds  occasion  here  again  for  utterance,  which  with  other, 
symptonas  and  evidence  impresses  us  strongly  with  the  idea,  that . 
he  is  an  amiable,  kind,  yea  even  a  soft  hearted  man,  though  any 
thing  but  a  genius.  He  must,  without  doubt,  be  a  drawing-room 
fevourite,  and  known  by  the  name  of  the  good  Mr.  Webster. 

"  On  arriving  at  Fernando  Noronha,  after  tarrying  so  long  at  Ascension* 
we  were  enchanted  by  the  beautiful  sceuery  it  presented.  The  shore  is 
scooped  out  by  divers  inlets,  and  embossed  by  green  promontories,  which 
are  connected  by  circling  branches,  where  the  rippling  waves  chase  each 
other  over  the  silvery  sands,  and  bathe  the  flowrets  of  the  skirting  woods. 
A  fresh,  luxuriant  verdure  crowns  the  summits  of  the  hills,  blending  its 
soft  hue  with  the  general  contour  of  the  is>land.  A  richness  and  variety  of 
vegetation  is  seen  everywhere,  excepting  on  a  colossal  pyramid  of  naked 
rode,  which,  rising  from  the  bosom' of  a  grov^  stands  erect  in  barren  rug* 


iiS^  Capiuiu  Fmter't  Fbyn^.  ' 

redn^sB,  towering  majestieally  oTer  the  smiling- and  fniMil  seeMi^cficranirf^ 
l(  18  a  gigantic  block,  the  summit  being  eight  hundred  #det  ab^e  ^^MtnA 
of  the  sea.  It  is  an  excellent  mark  for  seamen ;  and  when  trsrerslBg  the 
wood^  dedes  of  the  island,  may  be  seen  through  the  breaka^oip  <alio»iliife 
sammits  of  the  trees,  presenting  a  monument  of  gratidenr  aad  s^blittiftjr 
on  which  the  eye  might  rest  without  satiety. 

"  The  scenery  of  Fernando  Noronha  throughout  is  all  fertility  and  beauty. 
There  are  no  romantic  hills  aiid  dales,  but  everything  is  on  a  modemtv 
scale  and  pleasing  to  the  eye.  The  vegetation  is  that  of  a  tbidlly  wofided 
grove  rather  than  that  of  the  dense  forest,  for  it  admits  of  a  waUc  even 
through  its  most  shaded  parts.  There  is  an  inland  lake  in  the  island,  and 
one  or  two  trifling  brooks,  but  no  permanent  streams  of  any  importance* 
In  the  wet  seasons  the  island  is  one  continued  swamp  and  bog^  wli3e  'in 
t3ie  summer  it  is  dry  and  arid,  and  oci^onally  altogetiier  deficient  of 
water.  The  soil  is  a  fine  rich  loam,  of  a  considerable  depth,  and  has  a  red*' 
dish  tinge.  There  is  upland  pasture  for  sheep  and  rich  plains  for  ctritiva* 
tion,  besides  little  fairy  vales,  blooming  in  afi  the  beauty  of  verdure.  Thfe 
sandy  beaches  in  the  tranquil  bays  are  sweetly  picturesque,  especially  aft 
evening^s  sober  hours ;  the  sand  is  as  smooth  as  a  well-roUed  path,  and 
the  gentle  ripple  of  the  waves  scarcely  disturbs  the  tranquility  which 
feigns  around." — vol.  ii.  pp.  15 — 17. 

The  distinguishing  feature  in  the  vegetation  is  tlie  ahundance.of 
«Umbing  plants  which  block  up  the  woods,,  an  J  forQi.B.  thicket,  in 
^aany  parts,  of  impenetrable  brush* wood..  These  parasites  i^epay 
the  aid  they,  borrow  by  conferring  a  teinpoiiary  elegaace,  .fii^t  eik- 
dttiiibering  the  trees  and  finally  destroying  them.  *^  Wh^  a  Iwaiir 
tifiil  simile/'  says  the  gentle  anthor^  ^*  deesithiff  9S09A  to  ninft, 
when  he  blindly  yiel£  himself  to  the  dazzling'  but  dtegeroos 
pleasures  of  life,  wlueh  although  they  aS>rd  a  temporary  enjoym^t, 
please  but  to  lead  to  premature  age,  aind  fitaally  .bring  him  to  am  an- 
timely  end!"  Such  is  in  the  author's  most  vigorous  and  ch&- 
lacteristic  vein,  by  which  it  may  be.  learned  that  he.  is  a  ^e, 
amiable,  and  simple  writer,  pealing  in  any  thing  hot  what  w^shpnl^ 
suppose  would  be  the  observations  of  an  original,  poiie«r^«  sn^ 
speculative  man,  who  had  new  and  strange  materials  to  work  upoo. 
The  inhabitants  of  Fernando  Noronha,  though  deseendimts^  of  the 
Portuguese  of  the  fifteenth  century,  are  strangers  to  improvements, 
one  art  alone  appearing  to  be  VeU  understood  by  th^m^u^d  tbrt'Ui 
the  rearing  of  capons,  which  strut  about  c^en  with  a  large  bipod  di 
chickens  under  their  care,  hatched  by  them. 

Maranham,  in  South  America,  was  next  repaired  to  by  iStm 
Chanticleer,  being  the  St.  Louis  de  Maranham  of  the  French,  and 
the  St.  Louis,  by  which  name  we  generally  call  it.  On  the  eustoms 
of  the  people,  their  whims  and  oddities,  the  author  is  entertaining 
and  liberal.  There  is  much  formality  and  finery  amongst  them  in 
manners  and  dress.  To  be  styled  "  Your  Worship,"  in  ordinary 
conversation^  is  an  insignificant  title,  and  any  person  of  decmt  re- 
putation receives  the  salutation  of  "  Your  Excellency  or  **  Your 
Highness." 


iiea  of  theirtsoAfbn  r  there  wa»  a  U»tal  Abtence-of  «be  Iktli»  oemfaM 
apfll  ciM^enieneeff  ^f'lif&.  At  all  partiev'  and  feaits^  or  move  otj^eeiafiy 
fvivatei^iiinMs*  tke  desseift  aloileis  c<Mi0idefed  a»  being  uH^r^the  ladf'« 
l^anicular  ^perintendenoe.  -  On  this  account  they  ate  Siua  splendid,  ^e 
lady  displajring  hef  taste  in  the  most  beautifui  manner.  I  rememhev 
seeing  a  desseit  at  a  gentleman's  table-  at  Maranham  saperior  to  anything 
I  have  ever  heard  or  read  of.  There  is  no  education  among  the  jieopld ; 
a  total  want  of  police,  a  flagtamt  disregard  of  justice,  Manutham  being  the 
place  of  all  others  where  the  foulest  murders  pass  unnoticed ;  and  yet  there 
is  great  integrity  among  tiie  commevcial  ckms,  and  perhaps  better  qua- 
lities among  them  than  a  superficial  aequaintanee  can  discern."— vol.  ii. 
pp.41,  42. 

Oar  author  visited  a  convent  in  Maranham^  with  all  the  antici- 
patory ideas  of  a  novice.  He  found  the  Lady  Superior  a  most  be- 
nign and  cheerful  looking  personage/ without  that  moroseness  which 
might  be  expected  of  one  of  her  class.  But  of  the  inmates  generalljTf 
let  him  speaK  at  length — 

*•*  Being  desirous  of  seeing-  as  much  of  the  establishment  as  was  per- 
mitted, we  were  conducted  by  our  female  monk  to  the  inner  room*  is 
which  were  several  inmates  of  the  convent.  I  had  pictured  to  myself  « 
great  deal,  and  expected  a  treat  in  contemplating  the  beautiful  features 
and  fairy  forms  of  nuns,  .whose  lovely  and  beauteous  persona  have*  been 
exalted  ii?to  those  of  angels  by  many  a  lovesick  swain ;  hut,^al8»l  I  had  no 
sooner  entered  the  room  than-  all  my  poetie  visions  vanished  in  an  ini^(anl& 
The-firstspecimenof  anun  that- my  eyes'  met  was -no  Madonna^  wbfibM 
placid  and  lovely  countenance  would  inspire  one  with  homage  and  respect 
for  her  callings  nor  yet  a  pecfect  Venus,  attired  in  the  habit  of  one ;  but  a 
great  fat,  unwieldy  female,  on  the  advaaee  of  forty,  a  womanr  of  a  gnMi 
habit  and  still  grosser  manners,  one  on  whom  retirement  had  produced  no 
beneficial  effect  in  the  shape  of  refinemeht;  humility,  or  modesty  of  de- 
portment. She  \ras  lounging  and  twinging  in  a  hammock,  and  seemed 
not  to  heed  bur  entrance,  although  her  position  might  have  been  inl<^ 
proved  on  the  score  of  decency.  What  was  still  worse,  she  squinted*,  antf 
her  large  blue  eyes  were  wandering  after  each  other  at  a  respectable  dis- 
tance about  the  room ;  while,  to  complete  the  picture,  she  appeared  to  be 
labouring  under  a  tempoi;ary  paralysis  of  the  muscles  of  the.  face,  by 
which  it  was  distorted  so  as  by  no  means  to  contribute  to  her*  beauty. 
Many  of  her  companions  were  sickly-looking  creatures,  with  pale  and 
wnn  cheeks,  and  lustre-flacking  eyes;  others,  however,. were  more  gay 
and  lively;  and  the  sounds  of^a  distant  lute  and  voices,,  likethosie  of 
persons  dancing»  raised  my  hopes  that  I  had  as  yet  only  se^a  the  dark  side 
of  the  picture,  and  that  all  I  had  expected  might  yet  be  realized  within 
the  convent  But  vain  is  the  hope  of  man — I  saw  no  beauties-*-!  could 
ineet  with  no  Venuses  as  we- were  saluted  by  the  frolicsome  damaeb  ;'no 
overpowering  charms,  no  Heloise,  and  nothing  nlore  than  a  group  of  oii^* 
dinary  faces,  some  young  and  others  old.  But  I  had  seen  enough  to  con- 
vince me  that  mirth  and  gaiety  are  not  banished  from  a  convent;  nor  is 
all  silent  sorrow  within  the  precincts  of  walls  that  are  guarded  by  bolta 
and  bars. 


'«'Tlie  ooDTent  cootaised  allogetlier  abcmt  one  hundred  and  tweoty 
persons,  of  whom  the  young  were  there  for  the  purpose  of  beiag  edu- 
cated, and  the  old  had  resorted  to  it  as  an  asylum  for  retirenieiit  aiid  sup- 
port. Married  ladies  are  admitted  into  it  in  the  absence  of  their  lords, 
and  sometimes  placed  there  for  security ;  but  the  lestraints  are  not  very 
great  nor  are  the  barriers  impassable,  for  here,  as  elsewhere,  *  love  laughs 
at  locksmiths.'  I  observed  a  great  number  of  black  slaves  as  attendants, 
and  was  pleased  to  find  that  their  outward  condition  appeared  better  than 
in  most  other  places.  As  I  left  the  place,  I  could  Qot  help  thinking  that 
it  appears  a  mockery  of  common  sense  to  suppose  that  religion  can  only 
be  immured  within  the  walls  of  a  convent,  or  that  virtue  can  only  grow 
up  in  the  shades  of  retirement.  To  withdraw  from  the  world  is  a  volun- 
tary confession  of  weakness,  a  want  of  courage  to  withstand  its  allure- 
ments, and  at  once  to  resign  the  conflict  at  the  expense  of  liberty.  At 
best  I  thought  it  but  a  squeamish  and  sentimental  love  of  the  abstract 
principle  of  virtue.  The  establishment  I  had  seen  supported  itself,  and  is 
therefore  open  to  no  objection  from  the  economists.  Needle- work  is  taken 
in  there,  and  artificial  flowers,  Jace,  and  preserves,  are  made  by  the 
nuns.'' — vol.  ii.  pp.  46 — 49. 

The  church  and  the  clergy  at  Maranham  have  fallen  into  great 
disrepute.  The  author^  one  evening,  saw  an  afterpiece  at  the 
theatre,  that  met  with  gre^t  applause,  called  the  '*  Horrors  of  the 
Inquisition."  But  the  dowhfal  of  priestly  power  has  not  induced 
any  thing  like  true  r.eligion.  The  slave-trade  flourishes  here  in  all 
its  horrid  vigour.  We  like  to  hear  the  author  bearing  testimony  to 
the  frantic  cheer  and  the  shout  of  triumph  that  burst  from  the  hold 
of  a  slaver,  when,  after  an  obstinate  resistance^  she  is  captured  by  a 
British  cruiser.  But  here  is  a  particular  circumstance  connected 
with  slavery  in  Maranham,  that  cannot  be  without  its  evil  fruits. 

**  In  every  house  which  I  visited  in  Maranham  (and  I  had  an  ex- 
tensive acquaintance),  I  was  shocked  at  the  indecent  exposure  of  their 
persons ;  the  little  pot-bellied  urchins  were  running  about  naked,  and  the 
shameless  nudity  of  the  adults  mingling  intimately  with  the  sons  and 
daughters  of  .the  household,  must  inevitably  impair  that  delicacy  of  sen- 
timent which  is  the  chief  ornament  of  the  female  sex.  But  the  general 
tendency  of  slavery  in  the  negro  is  to  harden  the  heart,  to  extinguish  all 
sense  of  justice,  and  to  encourage  the  most  unbounded  licentiousness," — 
vol.  ii.  pp.  57, 58. 

The  slave-trade,  saya  the  writer,  though  abolished  by  treaty, 
is  continued  by  stratagem,  and  it  is  argued  in  the  Brazils, 
that  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  import  a  fresh  cargo  of  physical 
strength,  to  counteract  and  keep  down  the  incorporated  mass,  that 
might  be  disposed  to  rise  and  act  a  dangerous  part ;  for  of  the  po- 
pulation ofMaranham,  estimated  at  seventeen  thousand,  the  greater 
proportion  consists  of  African  slaves  ;  then,  what  ia  condition  of  fear 
must  the  free  be  in !  and  must  not  every  addition  to  the  number  of 
the  enslaved  aggravate  the  danger  ? 

The  city  of  Para  which  stands  on  the  right  bank  of  the  rivec 
Amarson^  as  described  by  the  author^  does  not  aflbrd  much  worthy 


Cti^im  FHt€r*9  V^^^  Hit 

m 

of  iiotice.  Its  poblic  institutionfl  fer  the  aclvMieement  of  educaticm 
are  lamentably  iew«  It  does  not  boast  one  bookseller's  shop.  The 
females  especially  are  extremely  ignorant,  those  of  the  most  re- 
spectable rank  being  often  unable  to  read.  We  are  carried  on  by 
the  author  to  the  island  of  Trinidad  and  the  town  of  Port  Spain, 
and  are  pleased  to  find  him  returning  whenever  occasion  offers  to 
denounce  slavery,  even  under  its  most  favourable  forms. 

*'  I  was  repeatedly  requested  to  notice  the  happy  condition  of  the  slaves, 
and  was  repeatedly  asked,  where  is  their  wretchedness  ?  But  I  saw  no  such 
happy  state  realized ;  on  the  contrary,  the  temper  in  which  the  services  of 
the  slaves  were  commanded  by  the  masters,  fully  convinced  me  that  hap- 
piness was  not  their  lot.  '  Why,  our  slaves  issue  their  invitations  on  em- 
bossed cards,'  we  were  repeatedly  told  with  exultation.  '  It  is  thus  that 
they  give  notice  of  their  balls  and  parties  ;  what  better  proof  could  you 
have  even  of  their  refinement  in  happiness  ? '  But  this  is  a  fallacious  argu- 
ment, and  one  that  may  be  turned  against  those  who  offer  it.  For  my 
part,  I  look  on  it  in  its  real  light,  that  those  slaves  are  the  more  capable 
of  receiving  civilization ;  that  they  are  not  so  destitute  of  a  sense  of  pro- 
priety as  supposed  by  some,  and  are  desirous  of  imitating  the  superior 
forms  of  civilized  life,  which  they  see  practised  by  Europeans ;  in  fact, 
that  they  thus  evince  a  natural  sense  of  manners  and  customs,  to  which 
their  own  are  so  far  inferior,  and  a  desire  to  follow  them.  Such  a  mode  of 
proceeding  I  augur  well  from,  and  instead  of  accepting  it  as  a  reason  that 
their  slavery  should  be  perpetuated,  in  my  opinion  it  bespeaks  them  to  be 
more  worthy  of  their  liberty.  Such  arguments  betray  the  weakness  of  the 
cause  equally  as  much  as  those  which  adduce  the  revelry  of  cyprians  and 
libertines  as  the  proofe  of  happiness.  But  what  else'csm  we  expect  from 
slave-holders  against  emancipation,  whose  judgments  are  biassed  by  self- 
interest,  and  debased  bv  the  ill-effects  of  habitual  cruelty  }** — vol.  ii.  pp. 
100, 101. 

The  colony  of  Port  Spain  is  greatly  indebted,  according  to  our 
author's  information,  to  the  late  Sir  Ralph  Woodford,  for  its  present 
improved  condition.  But  he  was,  as  governor,  sometimes  arbitrary 
and  abrupt. 

"  It  is  said  of  him  that  he  once  gave  an  instance  of  this  which  has  never 
been  forgotten,  and  I  am  nut  suprised  at  it,  for  it  broke  through  a  very 
ridiculous  custom.  It  was  the  general  practice  for  the  ladies  after  child- 
bed to  be  churched  in  their  maiden  names.  On  one  of  these  occaaons, 
whether  acddently  or  purposely  I  do  not  know,  Sir  Ralph  was  present* 
The  clergyman  in  the  usual  course  of  the  service,  said,  *  Miss  Mary  Ann 
Colton  begs  to  return  thanks  for  her  safe  deliverance  in  childbirth.' 
'  What's  that  ? '  said  Sir  Ralph,  rising  before  the  whole  congregation.  The 
clergyman  repeated  the  sentence.  '  Pooh,  Pooh ! '  said  the  govemoc,  '  let 
us  have  no  more  of  that  nonsense.*  The  hint  was  taken,  and  the  custom 
of  churching  the  ladies  as  misses  in  their  maiden  names  was  dropped  for 
fheir  more  homely  ones  as  matrons ;  but  I  am  not  certain  whether  the 
officiating  clergyman  was  not  the  greatest  loser  by  the  change,  for  to  en- 
sure the  delightful  soonds  of  the  maiden  name  being  pronounced  in  the 
ears  of  the  congregation  a  douceur  of  a  doubloon  was  the  usual  reward." — 
vol.  ii.  p.  106k 


5S9  C^mk  PM€r'9  V^fmg^. 

.  Porto  Bdio^  a&olfaw  pLmsB  at  vhidk  the  ChM^tideer  miiaXUf,  eof|* 
aitts  of  a  few  miserable^Iodiing  huta.  The  harbour  i«  quiet  and  rursL 
The  boughs,  bcndkig.  beneath  their  foliage,  overhang  the  very  rocks 
COEL  the  shore  of  the  harboor,  .affi)rdiDg  a  shade  which  is  taken  ad- 
vantageof  by  groups  of  pelicans.  N.ot  a  vessel,  not  even  a  coasting 
adiooner,  nor  a  solitary  boat  was  to  be  seen.  So  mean  and  insig- 
nificant is  now  the  once  femoue  and  celebrated  Porto  Bellol  The 
desolation  that  reigns  amongst  the  once  respectable  buildings  is  de- 
scribed as  most  complete.  The  noble  flights  of  stairs  found  in  some 
of  the  ruins  were  propped  up  with  stakes^  the  spacious  rooms  were 
unsafe  to  tread,  the  wadls  were  moss-grown,  and  the  large  bell  of  the 
oastle  lay  rusting  in  neglect.  The  churches  were  hastening  to  ruin, 
and  the  streets  were  the  resort  of  frogs  and  toads.  There  is  still  a 
governor  in  this  desolate  place.  He  was  il},  and  visited  by  the  au- 
thor, who  never^  in  all  his  practice^  found  more  abject  poverty  and 
wretchedness  than  in  this  functionary's  abode  and  person.  So  nnftch 
for  the  republic  of  Columbia  I  There  ia  an  aflfecting  moral  to  be. 
deduced  from  the  following  statement. 

*  **  Filthy  and  indolent  as  the  people  of  Porto  Bello  are  in  their  habits. 
fcnd  notwithstanding  all  the  poverty  and  distress  we  have' mentioned,  tiie 
xiemains  of  departed  wealth  may  be  seen  among  them,  for  in  the  dress  of 
the  poorest  there  is  a  mixture  of  rags  and  tinsel.  Flounced  gowns  and 
gold  chains  are  associated  with  the  meanest  habiliments,  and,  with  the  as-' 
slstance  of  a  superb  tortoise-shell  comb^  only  'served  to  render  them  more 
conspicuous. 

'*  In  thdr  miserable  dwellings,  here  and  there  may  be  seen  a  silver  cap 
or  a  rich  china  goblet,  and  the  former  generally  so  dirty  as  to  lead  any 
one,  mot.  knowing  the  contrary,  to  suppose  that  it  was  pewter.  It  is  not, 
however,  likely  that  they  shoidd  pay  more  attention  to  this  part  of  their 
household  furniture,  and  it  must  not  therefore  be  supposed  as  exempt  froar 
their  antipathy  to  cleanliness.     -  .... 

"  I  beUevs  the  Spaniards  of  this  part  of  the  world  hold  us  in  deiisioin 
for  taking  the  pains  we  do  to  keep  our  silver  artidee  clean  by  waafaiag. 
and  rubbing,  asserting  that  they 'would  not  think  of  wasting  thens  insoeh 
a  mann^.  It  may  be  good  economy,  but  it  is  at  the  expense;  ofall  dei^acy 
and  comfort,  sjnd  I  strongly  suspect  that  such  reasoning  is  a  mere  clofi^ 
for  their  idleness."—- vol.  ii,  pp.  133 — 135.  

,  These)  poor  but  vain  people  have  balls^  The  authof -wna  ^^_^ 
at  one  of  them,  end  fiMmd  that  he  had  underrated  them  wilh 
spect  to-  their  dresses,  and  periMtps  in  point  of  cleanlinesai  *  Heftuid 
himself  surrounded  by  white  flounced  gaments,  i^te  satin  shoes, 
and  silk  stockings^  as  also  a  varietV  of  trinkets.  The  Mttle  liiob^ 
they  possess  is,  according  to  the  author,  derived  from  toitl^Gaticltt^r 

«<  This  anploymentoommenoesion.the  ooa^tin  Jannary>and«icoiitmift-- 
ad  through  February,  March,!  and  April,  from  which,  they  obtain- gpsaia 
quantities  of  tortoiseHBhdl.  JSach  turtle  yidds  two  or  thgftt^j^ownds^ 
shell,  which  is  sold  at  eight  doUars  per  pound.  A  canoe,  with  onljp  two 
or  three  men  in  it,  is  considered  to  have  made  a  good  season's  work«  if 
they  bring  home  eighteen  or  twenty  turtles,  from  which  they  rnhae  mAj 


C(q)tain  fo8ter*i  Foyajfe,  ^53 

<3fr  seventy  pounds  sterling.  Herein,  then,  lies  their  riohes.  the  source 
of  all  their  wealth,  for  they  have,  nothing  else  to  dispose  of  exceptr 
ing  some  old  silver  relic  saved  from  the  wreck  of  former  grandeur. 
B»t  their  necessities' are-  amply  supplied  hynalwe.  *  The  calabash  lis 
iDvaiiably  their  bow),  and  ^  smaller  parts  of  4t  are  very  in^emonaly 
fashioned  into,  spoons  and  drinking  cups;.. the  sea^fsa-' server  thetn 
for  a  sieve ;  the  cloth-like  leaf  of  the  palm  makes  a  good  Mw"^  for 
liquid^,  as  well  as  a  good  net  in. which  to  boil  their  vegetables ;  the.pOfQoa- 
nnt  is  their  substitute  for  milk  and  butter,  and  the  strong  prickly  stem  of 
a  tree  serves  to  grate  this  principal  article  of  their  food;  and  the  woo4s 
supply  strong  fibrous  creepers  wherewith  to  form  the  cables  for  their 
canoes.  And  because  all  this  is  found  them,  and  the  productions  of  th« 
ground  are  spontaneous  and  require  no  labour,  they  miist  needs  pass 
their  time  in  gambling  and  cock-fighting — the  two  chief  amusemento  of 
Porto  Bello !  O,  man,  thou  art  indeed  fallen !  But  they  all  seemed  very 
happy;  and  I  doubt  whether  an  amelioration  of  their  present  condition 
would  tend  to  improve  their  happiness.  This  commodity  appears  somi^- 
times  to  be  formed  of  very  simple  ingredients ;  at  others  it  is  a  complicated 
system  of  refinement,  eluding  our  grasp  in  proportion  as  the  number  of  its 
component  parts  are  more  or  less  numerous.  What  a  magnificent  proof 
have  we  here  of  the  wise  and  beneficent  intentions  of  Providence !  How 
little  completes  the  ineasure  of  happiness  to  some ;  to  others  how  hopeless 
to  attempt  such  an  undertaking!  Some  can  reap  all  they  require  in.ii 
scanty  field  ;  others  cannot  find  sufficient  in  any  one,  be  it  ever  so  exten- 
sive— ever  so  full  of  gifts — something  more  is  always  wanted/'  — vgl.  li. 
pp..  139,  140. 

Yet  Porto-Bello  in  former  times  was  the  spot,  as  Robertsoli 
says,  where  the  wealth  of  America  was  exchang^  for  the  mantrfac- 
.  tures  of  Europe.  It  was  once  the  treasury  of  the  old  and  new 
world,  and,  in  the  words  of  the  author;  bars  of  silver  and  ingots  of 
gold  were  piled  in  the 'streets^  without  fear  or  anxiety  for  their 
safety*  The  most  pleasant  circumstance  related  by  him  of  the 
pkoe  now>  is^  that  the  difiiiaion  of  education  is  so  oonsiderable  thttt 
the  children  of  all  the  negroes  can  read  and  generally  irrite.  The 
object  which  Captain  Foster  had  particnlarlv  in  view/  in  visiting- 
Porto  Bdlo^  waSy  if  possible,  to  measure  the  difiference  of  longitude 
across  the  isthmus  of  Darien,  by  means  of  rockets.  We  do  nOt 
follow  the  author  in  his  account  of  what  was  done  in  this  particular 
enterprise,  which  was  on  a  magnificent  scale,  and  calculated,  if 
once  correctly  concluded,  to  enable  any  one  hereafter  to  connect 
the  two  oceans,  by  knowing  exactly  the  meridian  distance  between 
two  points  on  either  shore.  We  hasten  on  merely  to  notice  one  or 
two  circumstances  narrated,  and  then- must  close  the  t^ork.  They 
are  of  a  melancholy  nature. 

Captain  Foster,  in  order  to  forward  the  operations,  determined  on 
crossing  the  isthmus,  as  some  previous  exertions  had  failed  in  the 
att^npts  made  by  the  firing  of  rockets :  lor  they  had  not  been  seen 
by  the  Chantideer  at  the  station  she  had  chosen  for  watcKing 


554  Caftum  t^i^*s  Voyage. 

them.  By  {dacing  parties  at  di6feifent  points^  he  hoped  to  aoeom* 
plish  hi9  purpose.  He  was  cheeriiil  and  gay ;  but  gave  the  author 
his  keys,  with  some  other  instructions,  saying,  "  It  is  right  to 
make  preparations  like  these."  The  observations  went  on  prosper- 
ously; Captain  Foster  returned  across  the  isthmus  again,  and  was 
descending  the  river  Chagres  to  gain  his  vessel,  which  was  ordered 
to  be  under  sail. 

"  The  party  embarked  about  nine  in  the  morning,  and  jnToceeded  doim 
the  river;  their  thoughts  and  conversation,  as  they  passed  theditferent 
reaches,  enjoying  the  scenery  around  them,  being  turned  principally  on  the 
speedy  termination  of  their  voyage,  and  on  returning  soon  to  those  friends 
they  had  left  at  home.  Such  was  the  pleasing  occupation  of  their  minds 
•  as  ^e  canoe  glided  down  the  river.  Captain  Forster  having,  besides,  the 
additional  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  he  had  secured  the  object  of  hk 
visit. 

*'*'  About  five  in  the  afternoon,  the  canoe  having  just  passed  a  rapid. 
Captain  Foster  suddenly  rose  up  from  the  party,  saying  he  would  go  and 
see  what  the  man  at>aft  was  about.  They  were  reclining  beneath  the 
awning  of  the  canoe,  in  conversation,  as  Captain  Foster  crept  out  at  the 
after  part  of  it.  Being  outside  of  it,  with  his  feet  resting  on  the  gunwale, 
be  incautiously  seated  himself  on  the  awning,  which  had  no  sooner  re- 
ceived his  weight  than  it  gave  way,  and  he  was  precipitated  into  the  river. 
The  noise  of  his  fall  was  heard »  and  Mr.  Fox  and  his  coxswain,  Peter 
Veitch,  instantly  plunged  after  him.  But  their  noble  efforts  were  of  no 
avaii.  The  current  swept  the  canoe  rapidly  away  from  the  spot  where  the 
accident  had  occurred,  and  before  she  could  be  turned  round  to  regain  it. 
Captain  Foster  was  seen  sinking  with  uplifted  hands,  to  rise  no  mo:e! 
Thus  perished  our  unfortunate  commander." — vol.  i.  pp.  190,  191. 

'  "  Having  paid  the  last  duties  to  her  late  commander,  the  Chanticleer 
sailed  from  Chagres  on  the  llth  of  Februa.ry  for  Porto  Bello,  for  the 
'  purpose  of  getting  observations  for  the  chronometers.  From  this  plaee 
she  finally  sailed  on  the  I3th  following,  and  after  getting  the  sunc 
vations  off  the  east  end  of  Jamaica,  Cuba,  Crooked  Island,  Bennuda* 
St.  Michaels,  arrived  at  Falmouth  on  the  17th  of  May,  1681,  and 
paid  off  at  Sheemess  on  the  9th  of  June  folloi^Uig. 

"  A  voyage  of  more  than  three  years  was  thus  eoiSapleted  with  no  oUter 
loss  than  that  just  related  After  having  traversed  the  most  botalenwe 
seas,  and  sojourned  in  every  clime  from  the  eqiiator  to  the  pole,  some  the 
most  deleterious  on  the  face  of  the  globe,  without  losing  a. man  by  tHf- 
ness,  it  behoves  me  to  reflect  with  grateful  feelings  on  the  event,  tnd  to 
record  my  gratitude  to  a  Divine  Providence  for  to  many  and  gmit 
tnercies." — vol.  ii.  p  208. 

As  we  have  before  stated,  the  results  of  the  Chanticleer's  voy«ge 
has  been  given  in  the  appendix,  taken  from  the  rejports  of  sdeotific 
men  upon  Captain  Foster's  observations.  But  of  this  part  we  only 
repeat,  that  these  observations  have  enlarged  the  data,  and  ao 
doubt,  will  finally  be  considerable  helps  to  the  estabUshmeat  of 
most  important  scientific  facts.  Still  the  author  of  the  narrative  we 
have  been  extracting  abunduntly^  had  no  hand  in  the  matter  of  the 


Tynfey  HaU.  ta» 

appendix,  and,  thereforei  we  view  his  work  s^rately.  And  here 
we  must  speat  more  strongly  and  sweepingly  than  at  the  first 
glance  of  these  volumes  seemed  necessary.  We  must  declare,  that 
though  the  work  be  written  in  a  pleasant  style,  and  with  an 
amiable  spirit,  we  never  met  with  a  more  striking  specimen  of  fill- 
ing up  by  thread- bare  accounts,  and  spinning  out  of  slender  aiMl 
limited  ideas,  facts,  or  topics.  It  is  curious  how  very  differently 
men  of  different  powers  will  handle  the  same  things.  Nay,  it  is 
wonderful  that  over  such  a  field  as  that  traversed  by  the  autnor,  no 
new  thing  could  be  seen  or  found  by  him.  We  are  su!^e  that  our 
extracts  are  among  the  best  parts  of  the  work,  and  who  can  detect 
in  them  anything  more  novel  or  valuable  than  what  the  most 
ordinary  observer  among  travellers  could  string  together  for  an  un- 
limited time.  At  the  rate  which  these  volumes  exhibit,  the  marvd 
is,  not  how  the  writer  managed  to  fill  them,  but  that  he  did  not 
trouble  the  printer  and  binder  with  thrice  as  many.  Truly  the 
amiable  surgeon  is  the  lightest  baUasted  voyager  we  have  ever  met. 


Art.  XI. — Tylftey  HuU.    By  Thomas  Hood.    3  vols.    London:  A.  H. 

Boily  and  Co.,  1834. 

What  does  it  take  to  make  a  good  novel  ?  We  pretend  not  to 
answer  the  question ;  if  we  could,  it  would  require  much  more  time 
and  space  than  we  can  affi)rdi  But  were  it  put  thus — *^  When  do 
you  call  a  novel  good?"  the  shortest  and  best  r^y  would  be — 
^^  When  from  the  first  page  to  the  last  our  interest  is  not  only  kept 
up,  but  even  increasing,  till  its  intensity  is  such,  that  we  feel  our- 
selves identified  with  the  characters,  and  so  absorbed  in  the  story, 
that  its  denouement  finds  us  weeping  or  exulting  with  them.''  To 
accomplish  all  this,  great  artifice  is  required,  though  there  are  many 
whos^  talent  at  story-tolling  is  so  simple,  yet  excursive,  that  art  and 
labour  are  invisible;  and  though  romantic  and  marvellous  ind^ 
dents  be  introduced,  this  is  done  with  such  judgment,  that  the  ex- 
cited imagination  naturally  accepts  of  them  as  probable,  descriptive, 
and  helping  forward  with  the  progress  of  the  plot.  How  very  feif 
do  we  meet  with  in  society  who,can  even  engage  our  interest  for  a 
short  space,  when  they  take  upon  themselves  to  rivet  an  audience 
with  some  affecting  or  laughable  anecdote!  Some  greatly  fisul  by 
beginning  at  a  wrong  point;  probably  by  advertising  the  listeners 
that  they  are  to  hear  the  strangest,  the  saddest,  or  the  funniest 
thing  that  ever  happened.  Others,  after  a  good  beginning,  want 
strength  to  carry  on,  or  reach  higher,  and  drop  away  like  a  knotless 
thread.  And.  yet  no  one  can  well  say  where  the  failure  commenced, 
or  what  it  consists  in.  Others  are  notable  at  short  sayings  and, 
i>rilliant  hits,  that  cannot  so  join  them  as  to  exhibit  a  continuous 
ethrt  df  any  merit. 

It  is  weU  known  that  the  author  whose  novel  is  now  before  us, 
18  endowed  with  a  rare  talent.    His  short  and  sp^kling  pieces 


hmre  made  die  world  langhj  whikt  many  of  them  caorried  a  motal 
oliteader  or  noble  point.  ln:ev,ei;y  chapter^  nay,  every  page  of 
Tylnev  HaU^  sometning  of  the  same  order  is  to  be  found.  The 
work  ib-that  respect  contains  as  many  good  things  as  might  flaTOor 
ii'80Ore^f  iHoyds*  There  are  ether  baautii^a  and  pearls  scattered 
IhioiMfheiit  the  whole.  Thete  are  noble  sentiments^  there  are 
•tle^ttd  paseagesy  m  so  fer  as  regards  writing ;  there  are£:eqaent^ 
the  mos€  tou<£uig  and  virtaous  lessons  ?  taught  by  a  ludicroas  indr 
dient  or  reckless  s])eaker.  ^  In  some  parts  we  have  fek  the  hon^e^ 
timH»tof%  sentinient  that  was  -borne  by  what  seemed  an  nnconr 
•ciotts  pun.  Yet,  in  our  estimation,  Tylney  Hall  is  a  poor  novel. 
ailA  least  one  thing  is'  certain,  that  we  have  been  fatigued,  and 
nefver-  beguiled  during  our  perusal  of  it.  At  any  one  part  of  the 
Aree-velnmes  it  cost  no  effi»rt  or  reluctance  to  lay  the.  tale  aside; 
whidh;  according  to  our  theory,  destroys  the  character  of  the  work 
at  ^n'ce  a^  a  /novel.  If  suck  an  eflbrt  engage  not  the  deep  interest 
nf  the  reader,  what  is  it  'good  for?  Nothing  else  can  .make  a 
fiction  passable  or  valuable.  The  moment  we  yawn  over  it,  or  are 
careless  about  it,  the  employmJBnt  to  us  is  worse  than  wasting  time 
by  doin^  lib  gbod^-  it  is  positivfdy^e^il  cMidiiot'^.  ftr^e  are  A&nhr 
deadening  the  sensibilities  and  conning  what  has  lost  to  us  au 
dramatic  truth,  only  presenting  a  field  of  palpable  falsehoods.  We 
hold  that  fiction  is  only  useiul  in  so  far  as  it  engages  the  mind  by 
seeming  a  representation  of  the  truth. 

*  T^oV,  Tylney  HUl  hks  never  once  viHtiQusly  tl||i3  deceived  us» 
We  venture  to  sky  it  is  not  calculated  to  begutleany  boe.  There  may 
file  minds,  fashioiied  like  that  of  Mr.  Hood,  capable  of  onlyaeeing  ob- 
jects i^  an  untisual  'attitude  or  light.  We  have  kndwn  perinns  that 
oilly  detected  something  most  ludicrous  wfaeh  we  saw  nothing  but 
K^at  was  lachrifnose.  But  we  venture  to  predict,  that  the  nuyooifa^ 
df  mankind  do  not  look  as  the  author  does;  otherwise^ 'hpwitf& 
tjliat  the  tales  and  iwtnanoes  that  have  been  hitherto  most  popilary 
96^  6f  such  a  diAffent  construction  to'  this  ?       ' 

'^  We  profess  our  incapacity  to  tell  all  that  ig  nedesniry  in  flie 
composition  of  a  good  novel;  but  still' it  is  not 'difficult  to  poiBtoot 
mucn  that  is  faulty  ih  TyMe'y  Hall.  For  instance,  Mr.  Hood 
seems  unequal  to  the  management  of  ah  ititricate  or  extended  pkok 
All  his  most  effective  passages  and  ideas  are  isdated;  we  never 
feel  that  they  hang  together,  or  help  one  another  forward.  The^ 
rkle,  but  are  dead  before  we  see  the  next  fla^h.  Agahi^  faia 
uliar  talent  at  punning  upon  words,  associatingideas  or  events 
dicrously,  and  playing  continually  at  the  work  of  the  Comic  Ammal^ 
ihars  the  fancy  of  the  reader,  cools  him  as  fast  as  he  warms;  it  may 
be,  throws  him  into  a  laugh  where  it  is  necessary  that  sbnle  other 
sympathy  should  le  uppermost,  thus  destroying  the  whcde  iBitsicA 
of  the  tale,  or  the  power  of  the  moral  principally  contemplated.  A 
;few  specimens  may  here  be  given ;  #e  need  not  trardi  fiur  ftr  thifem. 
The  nrist  is  the  d^cription  of  a  eountry  ito.  .    '  .  : 


Tylney  Hall  557 

*'  Over  a  side-door,  leading  to  a  diminutive  yard,  appeared  a  notifici* 
tion  of  good  entertainment  for  man  and  horse,  with  a  hint  of  a  neat  p^st- 
chaise,  whose  post  was  almost  a  sinecure :  for  though  Jonas  kept  a  pair 
of  horses' for.  hire,  they  were  seldom  let  out,  except  to  grass.  By  way  of 
sign,  three  Chinese  pigs,  with  long  ears,  would  have  puzzled  a  zoologist, 
but  for  the  superscription  of  **  the  Rabbits ;"  while  a  writing  underneath 
informed  the  reader  that  there  was  an  ordinary  >  every  day  at  *one, 
although  historically  such  a  circumstance  was  extraordinary;"  and  an 
addendum  expressed,  that  this  establishment  was  kept  by — for  it  did  not 
keep — one  Jonas  Hanway,  late  coachman  to  Sir  Theodore  Bowles. 
Honest  Jonas  had  lived  so  steadily  and  soberly  all  his  life,  that  he  could 
afford  to  keep  up  the  trade  of  making  others  unsteady  and  unsober; 
However,  in  obedience  to  his  natural  bent,  he  took  the  most  retired  public 
house  he  could  find ;  and  instead  of  *  a  fine  stroke  of  busines  in  a  de- 
sirable low  hard-drinking  neighbourhood/ according  to  adyertisement^ 
was  the  proprietor  of  the  sniig  genteel  concern  of  the  Rabbits,  doing  no 
butts  a  week." — vol.  i.  pp.  2,  3. 

**  Mrs.  Hanway,  on  the  contrary,  as  an  Irishman  would  say,  seemed 
bom  a  landlady,  and  the  very  worst  of  her  faults,  when  tried  at  the  bar, 
Apipeared  of  advantage  to  her  character.  Technically  speaking,  her 
temper  was  a  little  pricked^  but  its  tartness  proved  of  essential  service  to 
t  mistress  who  had  commonly  to  control  a  termagant  cook  and  an  ob* 
streporous  pot-boy.  Besides,  the  temper  of  her  husband,  which  was  really 
drawn  a  little  too  mild,  acted  admirably  as  a  counterpoise,  or,  as  he  used 
to  express  it  himself,  they  made  excellent  *  half  and  half.'  "•«— vol.  i.  p.  5. 

Here  is  part  of  a  dialogue^  and  part  of  a  description  of  a  scene 
between  an  angry  mistress  and  an  insolent  maid-servant.  There 
has  been,  but  a  few  minutes  before^  a  death  in  the  house.  "Can  I 
believe  my  ears^"  said  the  mistress  to  her  domestic.  "  Can  I  be-r 
Ueve  my  own  senses !  To  dare  to  rejoice  over  a  fellow-creature^s 
departure^  and  the  corpse  in  the  very  house.  I  wonder,  hussey^ 
your  own  latter  end  did  not  fly  in  your  face ! "  After  a  deal  more 
in  the  same .  style^  we  have  a  most  Hood-like  play  of  wit.  The 
maid  lets  fall  some  well-filled  dishes^  which  roused  the  landlady, 
for  she  was  not  a  woman  to  bear  with  wanton  breakage.  "  In  fact 
the  Tartar,  as  of  old,  began  to  rise  on  the  ruin  of  China." 

Improbability  and  extravagance  characterise  the  incidents  and 
descriptions  throughout.  The  truth  is,  the  whole  appears  a  carica- 
ture, instead  of  a  happy  picture  of  life.  This  is  the  feult  and  the 
talent  prominent  in  the  novel.  Take  the  following  as  an  example : 
wk  might  quote  passages  in  abundance  more  to  our  purpose,  but  this 
one  suits  on  account  of  its  brevity.  The  speakers  have  been  alarmed 
at  the  sight  of  a  black  servant,  whom  they  supposed  was  the  devil. 
Their  screams  bring  their  master  and  others  to  the  scene  of  fear. 

**  *  I'll  take  my  gospel  oath  on  it/  asseverated  the  laundress,  '  on  my 
own  bended  knees — with  two  hums  and  a  tail — and  as  soot-^black  as  the 
chimbley  back.  One  thing  I'm  sure  on/  she  added  sobbing,  '  he's  none  o* 
my  raising.  God  forgive  me  for  sayin  so,  but  I  don't  know  my  prayers 
well  enough  to  say  'em  back'ards.  As  for  sin  and  wickedness^  except 
lookin  in  on  a  cousin  or  so  on  Sundays,  instead  of  gomg  to  church,  or  may 

VOL.  HI.  NO.  ir.    (1834.)  r  r 


556  Tfh^  Halt, 

be  the  vatty  of  a  pint  of  etvoBg  ale,  or  being  a  little  ekaritable  wkb  tlie 
tora  linea,  or  on  a  chance  time  Icnd&Bg  the  master's  shifts  to  be  dutied  cmk 

by  Ihe  footman—' 

^  *  Or  obliging  a  poor  man's  pig  with  a  little  skiia  milk/  whimpered 
JVggy*  *  or  a  lone  widow's  hen  with  a  sitting  o'  eggsr— <thft  Lord  be  new 
us  if  we've  to  go  to  the  pit  for  such  as  that ! ' 

^  '  I'm  Mure  I  don't  know  why  he  should  come  to  Am/  blubbered  the 
laundress^  '  any  more  nor  the  cook  and  butler.'  " — ^rol.  i.  pp.  110,  lU- 

How  very  likely  and  descriptive  is  all  this! 

There  never  was. »  Scotchwoman  who  talked  In  anywise  Trem- 
bling Mr.  Hood*s  Tibbie.  The  passaee  below  is  meant  to  illua- 
trate  how  much  she  is  scandalized  by  the  wastefulness  of  «a 
Es^lish  baronet's  hovusehold,  and  thus  sbe  is  ina4»  tp  espresa 

h^self. 

"  *  And  for  ray  part,'  answered  Tibbie,  *  Til  no  neglwst  oay  thing  to 
baud  the  gear  thegither.  As  for  the  In-whupper,  I'm  thinking  I'll  m^Jk 
him  ui.  gleg's  -9.  gled  to  sup  crowdy  i  wi'  a  tsuste  o*^  a  sowen  cog  at  an  ovra 
time  I  Buti,  O  mem ;  would  it  not  be  a  Providential  thingt  and  I'm  mra 
it's  my  daily  peteetion  til  the  Throne  of  Grace,  that  H^  wa4  send  dowu 
they  hydrophoby  amang  they  wastfu'  tykes,  and  g«v  ilk  w»a  devgoc 
hk  neebour,  by  way  o'  sunkets  ?  But  the  dowgs  «re  aaething  I  Theresa 
thretty  naiga  for  the  tod-hunting,  for  I  countit  them  oiysd— mair  hi' 
token,  I  never  saw  sao  mony  horses  thegither  but  ance,  when  the  oaw- 
valry  were  jpitting  down  the  meal-mob  at  Dundee.  I'm  t^HW  butcher. 
meat  is  at  tenpence  the  pund — but,  O  mem,  what  maun  be  the  price  o* 
tod's-flesh,  grantin  it  never  cam  intil  an  ashet,  het  or  cauld  ?" — vol.  i  pp. 
195.  196. 

This  leads  us  to  notice,  without  urging  a  single  remoinstrance 
respecting  the  flagrant  breach  of  decency,  to  say  no  more  of  it,  the 
frequency  with  which  certain  sacred  words  and  subjects  are  intro^ 
duced  in  this  febulous  improbable  tale.  There  iB  something  shock- 
ing in  the  following  alliance  and  play  of  phraseology. 

"  'In  the  name  of  God,  wench,'  said  the  Baronet, .seizing  the  daiiy- 
maid  by  the  arm,  *  what  game's  afoot  to  raise  such  a  view  hallo  ?'  but 
before  she  could  compose  a  sentence,  fear  distributed  it  all  into  pie,  as  a 
printer  would  say,  by  shaking  every  word  and  syllable  from  each  other, 

"  '  In  the  name  oi  the  devil/  cried  Twigg,  carefully  imitating  the 
Baronet's  movements,  by  seising  the  arm  of  the  lanndreas^  '  what's  the 
meaning  of  this  rumpus  }*  " — ^vol.  i.  p.  lOd. 

We  have  not  discovered  anything  like  an  original  character  in 
the  ¥K)val,  unless  Joe  Spiiler  and  the  asthmatic  Mrs. Deborah, 
whose  singularity  alone  belongs  to  the  manner  in  which  she  makes 
havoc  of  the  parts  of  a  sentence,  or  rather  of  all  punctuation.  To  ua 
this  is  very  tiresome,  and  if  original  not  worth  copying.  We  do  not 
intend  saying  much  more  about  Tylney  Hall,  the  idea  of  reading 
through  the  three  volumes  again,  so  as  to  furnish  our  reader  with 
an  outline  of  the  story  would  he  an  infliction  of  real  pain.  As  we 
dislike  unfair,  dealing,  particularlv  with  sensitive  men^  such  as 
authoi's  are,  and  as  we  would  ratner  cull  beauties  then  blemishes. 


our  two  longest  extracts  sliall  te  what  we  think  good;  nor  couid 
^here  be  any  difficulty  in  greatly  increasing  their  number.  The 
iirst  is  part  of  the  preachment  of  a  warm-hearted  old  fox-hunting 
English  baronet,  to  a  youth  who  has  just  beheld  his  father  breathe 
the  last  breath  of  mortal  Ufe. 

"  '  Come  new/  he  said,  *  take  heart  a  little,  and  consider  what  miist  be 
mus(.  Your  poor  father  is  dead  and  gone,  and  now  you  must  look  up  to 
me ;  if  his  run  hasn't  been  as  long  as  some,  he  has,  may  be,  been  saved  a 
deal  of  distress  and  struggling  on  his  last  legs,  and  which  is  better  than 
feeing  him  wearing  out  by  inches,  and  death  having  him  in  view  all  the 
time.  For  my  own  part  it  comforts  me  to  think  I  have  shook  his  last 
hands  and'  closed  his  last  eyes,  and  shaU  be  able  to  see  him  go  to  earth  as 
n  Christian  ought,  in  the  old  family  vatdt,  with  his  own  kith  and  kill.  It 
seems  hard  no  doubt,  to  part  company  with  those  that  are  so  dear  to  us, 
hut  it's  so  with  one  and  alli  whatever  dieir  pedigrees ;  for.  if  death  didn^t 
4raft  off  now  and  then  out  of  aU  our  breeds,  the  worid  wotild  be  over'- 
stocked :  that's  the  (Mrder  of  nature.  Such  being  the  casct  we  should  meet 
our  misfortunes  like  men,  instead  of  taking  on  and  being  noisy  and  bab- 
bling in  our  griefs,  as  if  that  would  head  him  back  again,  and  which  ia 
quite  impossible.  To  be  always  trying  back  with  repinings  after  what  is 
lost  and  gone,  is  nothing  but  running  counter  in  the  sight  of  the  Almighty, 
and  likely  to  bring  punishment  on  our  backs  for  such  a  course.  To  be 
Stfre,  when  my  own  site  diedy  I  gave  tongue  just  aS  yoU  do,  and  saki  I 
could  not  live  over  it ;  and  yet  here  I  am,  rising  fifty-four  if  I'm  a  day, 
and  able  to  ride  up  to  any  hounds  in  the  kingdom.  As  I  said  before,  we 
must  all  die  some  day  or  other,  and  in  consequence  either  We  must  all  lose 
Our  fadiers  or  our  fatibers  must  lose  us,  and  Providence  has  wisely  ordain- 
ed that  they  should  generally  go  first.'  "—Vol.  i.  pp.  65,  66. 

Our  next  extract  is  a  delineation  of  a  iather  and  a  daughter;  the 
ibst  part  and  the  last  two  sentences^  are  extravagant^  but  (Jie  tody 
is  fine,  alth^igh  highly  fisiished^  exhibiting  proo6  that  the  artist  is 
a  great  labourer. 

*'  In  figure  hei  Was  very  thin,  very  tall,  and  very  erect,  so  that  with  his 
forbidding  countenance  at  top,  he  might  be  aptly  compared  to  a  •  take 
notice'  board,  promising  prosecution  and  persecution  according  to  law 
to  all  trespassers  oh  the  wide  domains  of  the  statutes  at  large.  On  the 
Bench,  iadeed,  he  held  himself  fto  sUfBy  upright  in  person,  atid  so 
atannchly  inflexible  in  feeling  that,  as  a  waggish  London  attorney  once 
remariced,  *  he  seemed  actually  to  have  swallowed  the  sword  of  Justioe.' 

"  By  the  side  of  this  portentous  personage  stood  the  fairly4ike  Grace, 
the  sunshine  transmuting  her  auburn  locks  into  gold,  and  glistening  in 
her  gentle  eyes,  deeply  blue  aiid  liquid,  as  violets  bathed  in  dew.  ^ut 
rocks  have  their  flowers,  and  deserts  their  fountains :  and  from  the  hard 
arid  iiature  of  the  parent  sprang  a  beautiful  plant,  so  instinct  with  a 
gushing  sympathy  for  human  sorrow,  as  to  resemble  that  weeping  tree 
which  refreshes  the  parched  inhabitants  of  earth  with  the  moisture  it  had 
collected  from  heaven.  Too  seldom  was  she  allowed  to  intercede  be- 
tween justice  and  its  victims;  but  when  she  did,  she  was  like  the  angel 
in  Sterne,  who  dropped  a  tear  on  the  indictment,  and  blotted  it  out  for 
ever.    As  the  sole  child  of  a  widower,  her  voice  had  a  charm,  like  the 


560  The  Ahgler  in  Ireland, 

music  of  Orpheus,  to  soften  the  rock  and  bend  the  rogg^  oak  of  kcr 
pai^ent's  nature,  who  now  and  then  relented,  like  Pluto,  and  allowed  a 
poor  soul  who  had  fallen  into  his  Tartarus,  to  revisit  the  light  and  air. 
Many  blessings  were  consequently  showered  on  the  beautiful  head  of  Grace 
Rivers ;  and  in  particular,  the  fervent  petition  of  a  grateful  Irishman 
who  had  been  reprieved  through  her  influence,  became  quite  a  popular 
form  of  prayer.  '  Oh  the  darlint  of  the  world.  A  joyful  long  life  to 
her,  and  many  of  'em.  And  plaze  God  to  send  his  Honour  another  lady, 
and  a  dozen  more  only  daughters!'*' — vol.  i.  pp.  152 — 154. 

We  are  sorry  that  Mr.  Hood's  sparkling,  and,  there  is  no  doubt, 
long  cogitated  pages,  should  be  so  uasatis&ctory:  in  short,  such  a 
complete  failure,  as  we  believe  every  impartial  reader  will  declaie 
them  to  be.  He  has  done  much  to  gain  the  world's  fevour  hereto- 
fore, and  in  these  volumes  has  expended,  uselessly  we  think,  a  vast 
deal  of  talent.  He  has  even  laboured  to  insure  that  his  readers 
should  fiillv  perceive  the  excellence  of  his  efibrt,  by  striving,  in  an 
ingenious  introduction,  to  put  them  into  a  proper  train.  But  all 
will  not  do ;  people  will  vulgarly  judge  for  themselves,  and  say, 
Tylney  Hall  is  not  good. 


Art.  XII. — The  Angler  in  Ireland;  or,  an  Englishman's  Bambie 
through  Connaught  and  Munster\  during  the  Summer  of  1833.  2 
vols.     London:  Richard  Bentley,  1834. 

We  have  not  been  sparing  of  our  notices  of  works  on  the  gentle  art, 
in  our  journal  of  late ;  partly  because  angling  is  our  own  &voorite 
pastime,  and  partly  because  its  lovers  are  ever  of  that  reflective 
character  that  they  make  their  sport  the  handle  and  ground-wcik 
of  general  observation  and  discussion.  It  is  on  account  of  this  niore 
important  feature  that  we  enter  upon  a  review  of  the  present  work; 
nor  do  we  intend  paying  particular  attention  at  all  to  its  ^iacatarj 
character.  Indeed,  were  it  not  that,  in  this  number  of  our  periodi- 
cal, we  have  been  engaged  on  Mr.  Inglis'  Journey  through  many 
parts  of  the  same  country  to  which  the  volumes  before  us  refer,  it 
is  morejbhan  probable  that  they  never  would  have  been  perused 
by  us.  But  we  were  curious  to  see  how  two  writers  might  treat 
subjects  that  must  often  be  alike  or  the  same,  especially  as  they 
have  written  at  pretty  nearly  the  same  date  of  time,  and  whefein 
one  may  be  a  check  upon  the  other;  for  two  men  to  one  subject 
presents  just  as  valuable  a  scene  and  topic  of  contemplation,  as  two 
subjects  to  one  man.  We  must  say,  however,  that  Mr.  Inglis' 
work,  of  which  we  spoke  highly,  is  seen  to  still  greater  advantage 
than  we  at  first  viewed  it,  when  compared  with  the  angler's^  now 
about  to  be  reviewed.  For  the  former  was  the  result  of  dose  and 
anxious  inquiry;  and  although  Ireland  be  such  a  problem,  that  no 
sojourner  or  stranger  can,  in  a  limited  period,  fathom  and  compass 
all  its  genius  and  eiratic  character,  yet  the  impartiality  of  the  an* 


Th*  Angler  in  Ireiand.  3€l 

ihor  of  the  Journey^  his  diligence,  his  former  habits^  actd  the  matter 
he  has  set  down,  mrnish  incontestible  evidence  that  he  has  gone  a 
considerable  way  towards  the  root  of  the  matters  that  distract  that 
unhappy  country.  But  the  Angler  is  as  superficial,  light,  and 
skimming  as  the  average  of  tourists ;  nor  do  we  see  that  his  work 
can  be  of  fEurther  use  or  interest  than  as  a  pleasant  guide-book  to 
certain  quarters  and  scenes,  and  in  some  though  not  in  any  consi- 
derable degree  as  a  treatise  on  fly-fishing.  We  like  him,  however, 
because  he  is,  if  not  a  skilful  hand  at  the  rod,  an  enthusiastic 
disciple,  and  therefore  of  the  right  sort  of  fellows.  We  now  oom- 
Qience  with  him  in  the  city  of  Dublin,  in  May,  1833,  which  he 
leaves  without  dwelling  upon  its  oft  described  appearances  and  cha- 
racter, or  striving  to  dip  deeper,  the  great  object  of  his  visit  to  Ire- 
land, as  he  says,  being  to  explore  its  western  coast,  particularly 
Cunnemarra,  and  the.county  of  Kerry,  both  of  which  he  wished  to 
examine  thoroughly  and  leisurely.  Circumstances,  however,  in- 
duced him  to  proceed  first  to  Clonmel,  which  is  about  eighty  miles 
distant  from  Dublin. 

In  the  early  part  of  the  author's  progress,  he  remarks,  that  the 
Irish  peasantry  look  like  a  race  of  ready-made  soldiers.  He  did 
not  tinnk  them  so  broad-shouldered  as  the  English,  neither  have 
they  the  usual  stoop  of  our  agricultural  labourers.  But  they  are 
taller  in  person,  particularly  well  made  in  their  lower  limbs,  and 
hold  themselves  up  remarkably  well.  That '  they  have  not  the 
English  labourer's  stoop  may  be  accounted  for,  we  presume,  from 
one  or  both  of  two  causes,  the  want  of  work  or  a  disinclination  to 
work.  For  the  Angler  says,  that  the  men  will  not  mend  their  cars 
or  their  harness,  or  aily  thing  that  belongs  to  them,  till  absolutely 
compeDed.  The  roof  and  walls  of  their  cabins  are  sufiered  to  go 
to  ruin,  until  their  state  forces  them  to  patch  their  fabrics.  We 
may  add,  that  it  has  been  sometimes  averred,  an  Irishman  will 
work  better  for  others  than  for  himself.  The  auUior  continues,  and 
maintains  that  Ireland  is  indeed  a  country  of  expedients:  that  the 
people  seem  never  to  think  of  putting  proper  things  to  their  proper 
uses,  at  proper  times ;  but  then,  when  there  is  a  necessity  for  it, 
their  ingenuity  in  discovering  an  expedient,  and  remedying  an  evil 
from  a  most  unlikely  quarter,  is  incomparable.  All  this  reads  very 
well,  the  theory  having  been  suggested  by  the  Irishman's  practice 
of  making  an  old -hat  or  petticoat,  or  it  may  be  straw,  do  the  duty 
of  glass.  Perhaps  the  number  of  stirring  children,  the  small  oapa- 
<nty  of  the  cabins,  and  the  scarcity  of  money,  mav  each  and  all  have 
a  share  in  causing  so  many  windows  to  exhibit  aeformity.  "  With 
all  their  privations  and  sufierings,  however,"  he  asks,  "  where  shall 
we  find  so  light-hearted,  good-humoured,  and  kindly  a  race  as  the 
sons  of  green  Erin,  except  only  where  agitating  demagogues  and 
priests  have  infused  the  poison  of  party  politics  and  religious  ani- 
mosity into  their  too  &uale  minds,  and  too  open  hearts."  Such  is 
a  fair  specimen  of  the  author's  pith.     Our  readers  can  judge  of  his 


5^  T%i  Awgier  mlr^iand. 

QrigunJity^  and  probably  may  be  eoayinced  with  us,  that  the  cUtf 
be»(efit  to  be  derived  from  such  pcnntless  statements^  is  a  oonvic- 
%ioil  thait  he  will^  though  willing,  be  unable  to  mislead  any  one  on 
any  points  With  this  guide  to  the  Angler's  discernment^  we  go 
lorw^id  with  him  on  his  torn*,  just  observing^  that  so  early,  as  well 
a6  frequently  afterwards^  he  had  occasion  to  hear  the  Coercion  Bill 
afaiioit  universally  spoken  of  as  a  most  salutary  measure. 

The  diief  trade  oiClonmel  is  in  com,  we  ate  here  informed^  the 
miUs  and  many  other  public  worhs  there,  as  also  in  the  counties  of 
-Waterfoid  and  Ti|q>erary,  being  almost  entirety  in  the  hands  of 
QuAfcers,  who  are  a  wealthy  body  in  those  parts ;  a  proof  that 
money  may  be  acquired  by  industrv  and  integrity  even  m  Ireland. 
When  shaved  at  Limerick,  the  Angler  could  not  be  excused,  if  he  had 
neglected  to  say  something  of  the  celebmted  hooks  of  O^Sfaaugh- 
neasy.  But  he  is  not  such  a  soul-less  patron  of  the  '*  gentle 
«t." 

^  After  laying  in  a  considerable  stock  of  ^dhing  implementis  and  lore  at 
this  shop,  I  paid  a  visit  to  a  person  of  the  name  of  Glover,  who  now  em< 
ploys  the  identical  O'Shaughnessy  mentioned  by  Sir  H.  Davy ;  he  is  son 
4»  the  old  man  above-mentioned,  who  has  been  dead  fourteen  or  fifteen 
years.  I  had  a  long  converssftton  with  him,  which  was  interesting,  ians- 
stroch  as  he  may  be  considered  a  sort  of  piscatory  olassieal  chameter ;  but 
I  was  grieved  to  find  that,  with  his  father's  skill  in  his  business,  he  has 
also  inherited  the  paternal  fondness  for  whisky.  He  is,  in  £ftct,  the  best, 
or  rather  the  worst,  living  example  of  a  confirmed  dram-drinker  liiat  I 
ever  saw.  Mind  and  memory  seem  almost  entirely  gone  ;  although  there 
are,  at  times,  gleams  of  better  things,  which  Lint  how  far  he  has  fallen 
below  the  character  he  ought  to  have  maintained :  indeed,  as  Mrs.  Glover 
said,  '  if  hi  had  had  only  common  prudence,  he  might  have  kept  his  car- 
riage!' He  mixes  the  colours,  Sec,  extremely  \vell,  and  his  hooks  may 
be  depended  on  for  strength ;  but  he  does  not,  in  general,  now  tie  sb 
neatly  as  be  used.  However,  I  frequently  in  my  tour  fonnd  his  salmon 
flies  much  the  most  killing. 

*'  The  Limeriok  flies  are  almost  always  very  gaudy,  and  have  s3k 
bodies ;  whereas  tiiose  tied  in  Dublin  are  usually  of  mohair  or  far,  aa4 
laudi  more  sober  in  their  colours*  though  still  infinitely  more  showy  tbsa 
the  Scotch  salmon  flies/'— *voL  i,»  pp.  3^,  d6. 

We  find  the  author)  in  the  true  spirit  of  his  art,  more  than  <mce 
frankly  testifying  that  a  large  share  of  the  defigfats  experienced  ih 
his  piscatory  ^xctirsions  in  the  sister  kingdom,  arose  from  the  in- 
sight obtained  of  die  people  among  whom  he  enjoyed  himself,  in  aM 
their  unsophisticated  nature.  Ho  declares^  that  he  met  not  only 
with  the  utmost  kindness^  but  that  the  atrength  of  the  counliy^ 
people's  intelligence  and  goodness  of  heart  was  singular  $  wUlst  as 
companions  they  ooukl  not  be  surpassed.  We  must  blame  him, 
however,  for  the  frequent  use  of  a  very  Hgly  word  which  he  aj^ies 
to  the  Emerald  lale.  For  instance^  he  says,  in  passing  throogh 
Clare  to  Caxrofin,  the  country  is  pBrticularly  ugiff.  Thia  is  not 
like  a  brother  of  thexod  and  line ;  it  is  not  hke  a  ooivecit  Eoj^k 


Th£  AngUt  tp  Ireland.  56a 

schdsr.  But  let  that  pass.  In  travelUng  this  part  of  the  country^ 
his  companions  were  very  kind  in  pointing  out  the  various  objects 
of  interest  on  the  route.  Thus — "Pray,  whose  house  is  that  to  oi» 
left  ?"  "  Oh,  that  is  Mr.  Synge's,  whose  servant  was  murdered, 
and  himself  so  often  shot  at,  two  or  three  years  ago,^*  ^^  Oh!  and 
pray,  whose  is  that,  a  mile  or  two  further?"  *'  Why,  that  is  Mr. 
Blood's,  who  was  so  dreadfully  murdered  about  the  same  time.** 
"Oh!  thank  you!"  rejoined  our  simple  Angler;  no  doubt  com-, 
pletely  silenced.  And  we  should  like  to  know  what  Englishman'a 
ear  would  not  have  been  tingled  at  such  information.  The  short 
dialogue  conveys  a  frightful  sermon. 

"  I  soon,  indeed,  discovered  that  I  was  in  the  ceqtre  of  the  distafbed 
diatnct.  Witliin  a  mile  on  oiie  side  was  the  houa^  f)f  Mr.  Btood*  wb9  was 
BO  barbarously  murdered,  chiefly  through  the  msans  of  bi9  own  aisrvsa^  # 
about  the  same  distance  on  the  other  side  lived  tiie  identii*al  Terry  Aits^ 
who  has  given  these  midnight  legislators  the  name  by  which  they  were 
usually  distinguished.  He  was  a  quiet,  inoffensive  man ;  and  the  reason 
why  he  has  supplied  a  lawless  set  of  marauders  so  opposite  to  himsetf  with 
their  distinctive  appellation  is,  that  they  used,  more  out  of  fun  than  malice, 
when  executing  any  of  their  outrages,  to  cry  out,  '  Well  done,  Terry ! 
weU  done,  Terry  Alts  !'" — vol.  i.  pp.  65,  66. 

At  Galway,  our  angler  encounters  some  severe  trials  of  patience 
and  temper,  all  belonging  to  his  disappointments  as  a  sportsmiMU 
which  he  describes  at  length.  It  is  a  good  method  for  filling  a 
volume,  but  by  no  means  so  happy  as  respects  the  fame  of  the  wri* 
ter,  either  as  a  man  of  the  pen,  or  the  roa  and  line.  Here  we  must 
aho  take  an  opportunity  of  telling  him  that  he  injures  much  tho 
progress  of  his  details  by  the  constant  and  unnecessary  introduction 
of  the  pronoun  /.  Almost  every  other  paragraph  commences  with 
this  lank  character,  and  so  unceaskigly  does  the  mouth  gape  upon 
it,  in  reading,  that  for  days  to  come  we  shall  keep  mute  whenever 
forewarned  that  it  is  in  our  way,  introducing  in  its  place  some  other 
sign.  At  Galway,  he  says, — *^  I  found  four  or  five  anglers  on  the 
wall  before  me,  and  was  forced  to  imitate  their  example,  by  per- 
sisting to  flog  the  few  feet  of  water  I  had  secured  to  myself,  m  the 
hope  that  some  fresh-run  fish  might  be  induced  to  look  at  the  well-* 
dressed  deceipts  /  kept  playing  in  the  stream  as  engagingly  as  t 
could,  /rose  one  fish ;"  and  so  on  from  the  beginning  of  the  first 
volume  to  the  end  of  the  second.  Not  that  we  think  the  author  a 
vain  man ;  quite  the  reverse  ;  he  is  as  modest,  simple^  sensible  and 
shallow  as  we  ever  met  on  fresh  water ;  but  it  is  a  manner  with  him 
always  to  be  /-ing,  to  prove  his  fidelity  and  accuracy  of  testimony^ 
not  at  an  called  for  either  on  the  principles  of  truth  or  of  the  lan- 
guage he  speaks. 

Our  angler  is  shockingly  annoyed  by  a  nnmerous'supper  party 
who  met  in  an  apartment  only  divided  firom  his  by  a  thin  partition. 
He  was  fet^ed,  and  had  gone  early  to  bed,  to  have  a  long  and 
delightful  sleep.    He  was  just  dropping  into  the  arms  of  Morpheus. 


564  Tke  Angler  in  Ireland^ 

"  And  now  the  artillery  of  corks»  and  toasts,  and  fun,  and  wit,  pealed 
louder  and  louder.  I  question  not  that  the  whole  process  of  a  drunken 
Buj^r-party  may  be  very  edifying  to  those  concerned  therein :  but,  some- 
how or  other,  to  an  indifferent  observer,  who  is  perfectly  sober,  it  does  net 
appear  to  be  altogether  the  noblest  employment  of  ratkmal  bebiga.  Neittier 
does  the  wit  elicited  on  these  occasions  seem  to  such  inToluntary  listorar 
entirely  to  deserve  the  excessive  admiration  with  which  it  is  reoeiYed. 
Moreover,  when  this  same  sober  listener  has  been  up  at  three  o'clock  that 
morning,  and  been  kept  feverishly  awake  for  several  successive  hours  by 
this  '  wit,'  his  imagination  may  very  possibly  suggest  many  places  where 
he  could  wish  his  entertainers  very  comfortably  quartered ;  and  none  of 
t^ose  places  within  a  hundred  miles  of  the  spot  they  have  chosen  for  their 
carousals/'-r-vol.  i.  pp.  77,  78. 

The  harmony  of  the  party  at  length  nearly  issued  in  a  duel,  at 
which  the  anther  most  praiseworthily  levels  a  few  reproving  sar- 
casms^ but  after  all  it  was  made  up. 

"  And  of  course  the  conclusion  of  peace  could  not  be  ratified  withoat 
further  libations,  mixed  with  the  most  extravagant  expressions  of  good- 
will and  good  wishes,  which  soanded  strangely  at  variance  with  whiufc  those 
same  lips  had  so  lately  vented !  This  brought  the  evening  on  to  nea^  six 
o'clock  in  the  morning ;  when  fortunately  some  of  the  party  were  oUiged 
to  start  by  coach,  l^ey  accordingly  separated :  and  I  soon  after,  for  the 
first  time,  sank  into  a  quiet  doze,  with  the  conviction,  f  Well,  now  I  see  I 
have  at  last  really  got  into  Ireland  !*" — vol.  i.  pp.  79, 80. 

We  could  venture  an  unequal  wager  that  the  author  is  a  slender^ 
white-faced,  gentle  young  man,  of  exemplary  piety  and  hannleaa- 
ness,  excepting  in  the  one  department  of  hookmg  and  tonoe&tiiig 
fresh  water  fish.  Yet  these  are  all  seemly  qualities  for  an  aaglerj 
and  descriptive  of  the  character.  The  only  other  class  of  line  and 
rod  sportsmen,  are  of  Eat  North's  stamp — ^ruddy-faced,  brawny 
fellows,  who  drink  hard,  laugh  loud,  do  whatever  they  are  aboat 
with  all  their  mighty  wade  up  to  the  armpits  for  hours  together  in 
lake  or  stream,  if  occasion  call,  in  their  fevourite pastime;  ia  eadi 
and  every  thing  testifying  the  reckless  freedom  and  splendour  of 
triumphant  genius ;  glorious  even  in  their  waywardness,  more  illus* 
trious  still  in  the  discharge  of  public  and  private  duties.  Still  we 
like  our  author  well,  and  not  the  less,  certainly,  because  he  reveres 
the  Sabbath.     We  are  dissenters. 

"  The  morning  after  the  scene  I  have  described,  being  the  Sabbath,  1  at- 
tended divine  service  at  the  cathedral,  which  is  the  only  place  of  Protestant 
worship  in  this  populous  city :  but  seemingly  it  affords  ample  vei^  and 
room  enough  for  all  the  inhabitants  of  that  faith.  It  is  a  large  building, 
kept  in  extremely  bad  rejpair,  both  internally  and  externally  :  and  the  very 
small  congregation  therem  assembled  appeared  as  nothing  in  the  middle  of 
its  spacious  but  gloomy  aisles.  I  thought  the  singing  good,  but  was  not 
fortunate  in  the  minister  whose  turn  it  was  to  preach. 

*«  Oi  walking  through  the  streets  afterwards,  I  was'much  grieved  to 
see  here»  as  elsewhere  throughout  the  south  and  west  of  Ireland,  how 
completely  Sunday  is  made  a  day  of  merchandise :  the  streets  w«ie  fiill  of 


T%e  Angier  w  IreUuul.  S  66 

eountry •'people  offering  their  yegetablee*  eggs,  &c.  for  sale.  Ai  for  tie 
public-houses,  one  need  not  unfortimately  go  to  Iieland  to  witpees  that 
profanation  of  the  Sabbath.'* — ^vol.  i,  pp.  80,  81. 

Our  readers  now  may  estimate  pretty  justly  the  capacity,  the 
opinions,  and  tastes  of  our  angler,  and  therefore  we  proceed  at  a 
more  rapid  rate  with  his  tour.  But  ere  going  far,  let  us  have  a 
slight  touch'  of  his  enthusiasm  in  the  gentle  art,  which  is  time  to  the 
life.  It  had  just  been  announced  to  him,  as  he  reached  the  banks 
of  the  Costello  river^  which,  is  at  no  great  distance  from  Galway, 
that  it  was  stocked  with  an  abundance  of  white  and  sea-trout. 

*' '  Bravo !'  thought  I,  as  I  screwed  in  my  first  joint  the  more  rapidly 
*  And  of  what  size  are  these  white  trout?' 

"  *  Och  !  maybe  four  pound,  and  five  pound,  and  six  pound  ;  and  some 
may  be  as  much  as  seven  pound.*  *  '    .    . 

**  *  Bravo,  again !'  and  I  screwed  away  faster  and  tighter,  and  ran  my  line 
like  lightning  through  the  rings.     *  And  now  for  flies — will  these  do  ?' 

*•  •  Dch  !  sure  then  your  honour's  got  a  power  of  fine  flies  !  Them  'U  aU 
do.  But  I'm  thinking  if  your  honour  had  only  got  a  grouse  hackle  and  a 
jay.  Ah  !  them  two's  as  pretty  a  pair  as  could  be  fished  with  in  .this 
water.  And  what  an  illigant  rod  your  honour  has  got!  Is  it  irom 
England  she  is  ?  Och,  sure  then  she's  a  fine  rod,  God  bless  her  !* — an. ex- 
pression which  I  have  on  many  other  occasions  heard  most  whimsically 
used.'  *'-r-voL  i.  p.  85. 

On  visiting  the  Caves  of  Cong,  the  well-known  resort  of  *^  the 
white  trout"  of  Irish  legend,  which  has  been  veritably  described  by 
Crofion  Croker,  the  author  could  receive  no  satisfactory  acocuift 
from  the  country  people,  whether  such  a  fish  does  in  reality  exist 
there  or  not :  and  he  remarks  bs  follows : —  ^ 

'*  Indeed,  the  great  difficulty  of  obtaining  any  accurate  information  in 
Ireland,  upon  subjects  of  much  greater  importance  than  this;  must  have 
been  experienced  by  every  traveller.  Where  the  Milesian  has  the  slightest 
reason  to  imagine  it  may  be  for  his  interest  to  withheld  the  information 
sought,  his  ingenuity  in  warding  off  every  inquiry  is  incomparable..  But 
even  where  no  such  suspicion  can  possibly  exist,  and  where  the  subject  is 
completely  within  his  observation  and  knowledge,  it  is  too  frequently  next 
to  impossible  to  gain  precise  and  accurate  information  upon  it,  unless  by  a 
tedious  process  of  cross-qaestioning  and  a  comparison  of  the  testimony,  of 
several  informants.  A  ready;  intelligent-sounding,  and  apparently  satis- 
factory answer,  you  will  most  probably  receive:  but,  if  you  depend  upon  it 
and  act  upon  it,  you  will  nine  times  out  of  ten  find  it  erroneous.  Thifi  I 
can  only  attribute  to  a  general  want  of  accuracy  and  clearness  of  perception 
in  th^  Irish  character.  Indeed,  poor  Pat  seems  not  only  not  to  possess  the 
organ  of  accuracy,  (by  whatever  name  Dr.  Spnrzheim  distinguishes  it,) 
but  to  have  no  wish  of  acquiring  it,  no  regard  for  it  either  in  himself  or 
others ;  a  disposition  which.  I  fear,  must  tend  equally  to  prevent  an  indi- 
vidual from  succeeding  in  this  work-a-day  world,  as  well  as  a  people  firoin 
rising  to  the  political  importance  and  national  greatness  that  they  ought  to 
enjoy."— voLi.  pp.  106, 107. 

We  are  told  in  these  volumes,  that  thdre  are  few  objects  that  more 
f(»rcibly  strike  a  stranger  in  the  interior  of  Ireland^  than  the  ancient 

VOL.  III.   (1834.)   NO.  IV.  s  8 


i«f  '  Kt  Angler  in  IreMd. 

l^rlld  fkcei  wlHob  4i^<xft«aTciet  inthinih^Jliififa^ 
iSuded  spota,  wit(»Mit  the  leedt  tenl&iiis  5}!^  a&y  xd^fuems  vem$fi(i 
moisinff,  «Ad  imaOy  without.  ^  slig&tiBkt'fe&ce 'to  peto^^ 
gvavea  from  the  iBroadB  of  cattle^  ftc.,  mid  yet  dtattmsBeip'"  " 
cemeteries  are  etill  prefen^  by  the  Catholics  to  man^«ii^^^ 
places  of  sepulture.  We  tliialt  there  is^tiothii^in  this  tm^tirfia^ 
^8t  consistent  with  mimy  sympathies  of  hnmenity. .  llie  tmba^ 
tidns^fire'dffflbreBty  hut  they  are  mocre  simplec^  natural,  mdimteMi^ 
iKhen  of  the  order  he  refers  to,  €han  if  of  that  ckss  cbo&ei^ied  wift 
architectural  antiqcdtiesi  ^  ^U  ^'^  pagea&^j/tnid  aitifim^  -'H^'!^!^ 
^our  that  gold  or  numan  fancy  can  h^tow.  .But  here  is  aoin^twif; 
of  the  author's  creed^  religion,  aiid  politics. -r-*  •/ .  • 

^  On  Sunday  I  attended  dirm6  seMbe  at  the  eathedral  dhutcli  ai'TaaiBi 
His  siindl»  «ttl  dtvoid  of  any  estarool  pretenrioo,  'eatGet>t  a '.fide  ol4  S4t4a 
ambai  the  entrance,  of  the  usual  red  oaiid-afoiie.  But  ii^teraalfy  ttla  Jti|0| 
l^pin  arery  neat,  chaste  manner;  aod  ^t  possesses  a  good  oi^f$B%;<Tbs 
Aicbbtahop  was  present,  a  fine-looking  old  maq ;  who,  froin  faas/exo^Afiot 
character,  ^^  " 

and  tern] 

obuntry  but  Ireland,  where  the  poison  of  party     ,  .  •  tt      • 

*'  "  We  had  a  yery  long  sermon  of  fifty -four  mihtitefi ;  as  Aistia^'&t^ 

Kre:  and  alaa  f  also,  'as  usual,  veiy  evangelical.  "Irhe^ssuie  ^Utfj^jttiM 
:ewi8e /ead  the  service,  which  is  seldom  the  casc^^ ih'Itelajddr?  ani3,*% 
'doing  so;  totriM]^  omitted  the prayeh  fbrth<^  LottTLieMbBitllt-fM^til&iai^ 
Kkment,  andf  f or  the  Qtfeenraiid  also  WuM  Mf^^'hlsMi$ia^i^» 
•'^^Hitifl^br  giacieuif <    '   •  *  "       •-  1'  -  ■  v<:  b.V-  li^Jixi  i^. 

c.'.*««Tbese«iaieiftloKs;  I  am  aonry  taaay^  IrhMXbiBtl^mxkkBBaaaA  airoai^Hs 
ramftltealcleigycliieiaad}  Imr  lliin  tii  iniiinslwi  Hw  ai}iiil>i|<i|liBM<|» 
of  the  Church,  of  which  he  was  a  public  minister,  ip>ti^pr^iegf|^  ^iW>#ll 
ae4(Hi«.wasil4fto««^mjMs./rsp/ert.  |  ...,;  :,,..  ,^-  '.^jv.a.--iO 
^..  '^  Aa^  i^oat  9x#»^.  though  laest.  homUg  inmher  ^^the  Cl 
f)ngla]^^,  findsincerely  conyiDced.not  wI£ho^  lyucVeaunmafigyu  ti 
are  usually  called  the  orthodox  opinions,  in  qppositloi^  to'  Evai^ 
t^alvinistic  tenets,  are  the  rea^  doctrines  of  that  chuxcl|^  as  ^^  as  £ 
consonant  to  Holy  Scripture,  i^has  giv6n  me  great  pain  to  reittark«]lit1l  ^ 
parts  of  Ireland  \ehere  1  have  been,'  that  a  considexable  mi^oiift^''fiF' 
/most  talented  and  most  zealous  young  glereymen  lekn  Very  pefwTptlb^^ 
Svangelicism,  if  not  to  Calvinisik"— ^ol.  1.  pp.  1 18,  II4,  *       '     " 

1  ^ 

J    We  fear  the  young  gentleman  is  neither  a  de^  ^^<,^ 
^beral  politician :  he  is  no  doubt  a  thorough  Cons^drratiTe 
\mA  stat^,    ]H[e  goes  on  to  mentiouj  that' in  hia  ibpiniott  < 
^bJM.  retarded  tlif  spread  of  Protestantism  in  that  countcy^r  ^ 
^^vejtiieea  aatis&ctprv^^ta  a  Calyinist  had'.he'deifiped.^  " 
either  what  the  creed  impugned  amounts  to,  or  ai^^ejsa 
.  |i|iicty-iiine  artieles»    Calviqiism^  in  ^U  its  strength  a^ 
(may  he  founded  on  those  articles^  and  if  the  author  W9al 
;.  deij^ce  ot  thiS|  supposing  as  we  do^  that  he  ia  incapi^hla  o| .  .^,     ^ 

.^stwdi«ftitlKvaul^]ac4fi;ffiMl!^^  W^icaA'apd^AJK4{%^lN^ 
hun  to  able  writers-  abd  ornaments  in  his  own  churon>  vlio^&Kftt 


7n#, 


<iilii>l>»<id  aail*|^y«d;the  mittter  to  be  m  uiM  ati^ted  by  lui,  A% 
to  Ireland^  '<Mviiii8m^  not  sndi  m  Bishop  Tomliiiff  or  tlia  angler, 
soi^y  cbaracterkre  the  creed,i  has  done  more  for  the  Pretestant  rS* 
gion,  if  we  cotmt  the  numbers  of  proiessor^V  tvice  overylEan  tlMf 
ml}i  and  water  Christianity  of  the  Armenian,  fex-hunting,  loose*!, 
living  Churchmen  of  the  Estitblishment :  nay»  what  is  far  betferi 
lirhoever  is  acquainted  with  Ireland,  Scodaod,  and  Englmd,  hnovm 
that  the  professors  of  a  strict,  or,  if  yon  will,  of-  the  Ct^viniatie 
eredd,  are  as  a  body  the  best  livers,  themost  chantabIe]Christiaiui; 
of'imy  in  society.  Yet  we  are  not  what  the  angler  may  denot' 
mmate  Calvinists.  We  dSsItke  such  distinctive  titles  t  it  is  iHfberal; 
St'  is  vulgar,  for  an  elegant  or  tastefiit  angler  to  use  them.  It  is  s 
wonder  he  did  not  throw  6at  some  coBMnon*-^ace  about  SCsCh^dibm 
ttHK  '  The  truth  is,  that  4he  downy  doctors,  or  the/mor^  esaayists 
«f  the  Bnglish  Cfamrch  bBvathreWtt  »  didlness  or  drynass  oiver  «dt 
•^  |>eculiar  doetriikes  of  Christianity,  that  leads  one  to  think  timi 
our  Saviour  was  only  of -value>  as  an  example  fiMr  the  imitatioa  ef 
meek,  wdi-meaning  men.  There  have  been,  however,  very  manyv 
irufy  noble  exceptions  to  this  geneiHal  character  6!  Eiigltsh  churdi-( 
tnen,  and  we  believe  they  ar^  on  the  increase.  We  'mijg^  feltow. 
ouic  Kpglcr  in  his  narrow  uninfbnned  opinion  about  extempore 
pjeadbng.  Peremptory  and  univarsal  rules  on  the  subject  are  ab- 
f^rd.  His  views  are  contrary  to  what  history  eulo^ses^  ^ay,  to 
wbs^ft  healthy^  vigoixias,  and  enlivened. taste  aeniands..'\,l^en  his 
spiemM  at  the  Catholic  Belief  Bill,  apd  the  Catholic  p^-j^ateS^  are 
ao  much  of  a  juece  with  his  silly  angling  feats,  tliat  ki.  Kis  own 
«iedit,  he  should  never  txHVel  .Mycmd  his  calling,  unlees  iit  be  to 
tett  wfaoee  hou^e  is  this,  ai^l  what  cathedral  is  that,  us  he  sauntcn. 
from  stream  to  strean^. 

.  Our  Angler  theorises  most  unsatisfiaieteriljr  <^bo«Et  the  mottves-dT 
salmon  in  taking  the  artifieial  fly^  nod  supposes  that  enrioiBii^ 
orompts  them.  We  ask,  does  curiostty  abo  tempt  them  to  takh 
Bait,  with  which  we  ourselves  have  most  siiccessftilly  taken  goodly 
iellbwa?  But  he  is  superficial  in  every  thing,  and  really  writes  like 
a  boarding-sdiool  miss.  The  most  manly  thing  we  have  observed 
him  to  o&t,  is  a  correction  of  Christopher  North's  idea  of.  a  sal- 
mon*rod  being  top-jointed.  But  oh!  if  he  saw  the  author  of  the 
Isle  of  Palms,  up  to  the  waist  in  the  river  Tweed,  or  by  some 
^dron  pool,  like  a  monarch  of  lUe  fl(>od,  at  times  6dsting  the 
Ifossamer  line  with  such  a  mastery  of  gentleness,  that  it  fi^  a^ 
Softly  na  a  sigh,  or  lending  it  such  a  giant*s  v>ap  aS  to  throw  th^ 
^orceoos  fly  across  a  river's  breadth,  and  within  a  hand's  breads 
of  the  intended  spot;  he  would  not  dare  to  n^easure  line  Cfr  languid 
with  the  Scot. 

'  At  .Galway  our>  Angl^  experienced  anoth^  bad  nighfs  rest ; 
wfaidti,  Wfth  other  annoyances  of  a  similar  descrij^tion,  ai^e  reooAnted 
according  to  the  most  efieminate  iretfulness.  He  had  also  somf 
difSi^ty  19  gettin^^  a  bsoik  post*>biIl  ch^ged.;  and  ftm  4&ia  d|> 


568  The  Angler  m  Irikaid. 

cumstance  the  delicate  gentleman  di*aw8  a  9wei;piig  oMdMreiat 

doctrine.  * 

*'  It  is  not  very  pleasant  to  be  kept  for  above  half  an  hour«  as  I  have 
been,  kicking  yojir  heels  at  the  baiUi^er's  counter,'  with  the  character  of  a 
sufipected  swindler  attached  to  you  ;  and  to  be  subjected  to  the  sort  of  croes- 
czamination  that  takes  place  at  the  Old  Bailey,  before  you  can  get  your 
Own  money.  But,  infinitely  beyond  any  personal  annoyance,  was  I 
grieved  with  this  specimen  of  the  manner  in  which  commerciaL  transac- 
tions are  embarncned  in  this  country.  Nine-tenchs  of  these  transactions 
necessarily  require  more  trust  than  was  at  all  demanded  in  my  case  ;  and 
until  more  (jonfidence  be  shown  between  man  and  n^an,  it  is  impossible  that 
Ireland  should  become  a  great  commercial  nation/' — voL  i.  pp.  278^  279. 

The  introduction  of  a  system' of  poor  laws  into  Ireland,  is  at 
some  length  urged.  We  agree  with  the  author  as  to  the  neoessity 
of  the  measure/ but  see  much  difficulty  as  to  its  modecrf"  applica- 
tion.  Ireland  is  too  much  a  problem  for  any  superficial  kmywledge 
to  fathom.  StiII>  what  we  now  extract  is  in  the  Anger's  iiest 
mai&n^. 

"  The  more  I  reflect,  and  the  better  I  become  infonaed  upon  the  aub- 
jact,  the  more  deeply  am  I  convinced  that  the  speedy  introduction  of  some 
system  of  Poor  Laws  into  Ireland .  is  demanded  by  natural  justice  and 
humanity,  as  well  as  by  national  pcdi^.  I  should  lay  it  down  as  a  fanda- 
mental  axiom,  that,  in  every  country  which  has  reached  the  degree  of 
civilization  we  have,  all  classes,  in  return  for  their  obedience  to  the  laws, 
have  a  right  to  know  that,  hy  law,  *none  who  are  willing  to  labour  ma 
starve,  as  long  as  there  is  a  superfluity  of  food  for  the  whole.  This,  I 
think  all  the  members  of  a  civilized  community  have  a  right  to  expect. 

"  But,  the  more  I  see  of  Ireland,  the  stronger  is  my  conriction  that 
this  system  of  relief  must  not  he  k  parochial  one,  as  in  England ;  but  either 
national,  or  county,  or,  at  least,  baronial.  There  is  not  the  machinery 
requisite  for  its  efficient  administration  in  half  the  parishes  in  Ireland ;  in 
tery  many  of  which  the  personfi  who  should  carry  it  into  effect  would  be 
occasionally  requiring  relief  from  the  parish-rates  themselves,  or  would  at 
least  have  near  relatives  in  that  situation.  Or,  if  all  such  persons  were 
excluded,  the  whole  management  of  the  funds  would  in  many  instances 
fall  into  the  hands  of  one  or  two  individuals—of  an  agent,  for  example. 
Any  one  acquainted  with  Ireland  will  readily  understand  to  what  a  system 
of  fraud,  and  favouritism^  and  jobbing,  either  of  these  alternatives  would 
necessarily  lead. 

"  Again » by  adopting  the  baronial  or  county  plan,  the  greater  evil  which 
attaches  to  the  English  system,  namely  the  law  of  settlement  and  its 
consequent  expenses,  would  at  any  rate  be  greatly  diminished." — ^vol.  i. 
pp.  285—287. 

'  The  author  had  an  interview  with  O'Connell.  We  iAall  string 
together,  out  of  a  lengthened  account  of  the  Agitator^  a  few  s^>a- 
rate  passages.  . 

"  From  the  concordant  testimony  of  all  whom  I  heard  speak  upon 
the  subject,  O'Connel  is  not  only  much  looked  up  to,  but  also  miich 
1)eloved,  in  his  own  immediate  neighbourhood;  but,  in  the  rest  of!" 
country,  and  among  the  educated  classes,  he  is  regarded  itiUHJ'i 


I%i  Angkt  m  Irtkmd.  .  50$ 

%Iii  ib«]k  lie  is  by  at  least  four-fifths  of  his  own  countrymen  in  the  tipper 
and  middle  ranks^  and  by  nearly  all  well-informed  Englishmen  and 
Scotchmen  who  are  unbiassed  by  party.  I  think,  from  the  opportunities 
of  observation  I  have  had,  that  the  upper  ranks  of  Catholics,  and  even  a 
majority  of  the  priests,  have  no  real  love  for  0*Connel,  although  they 
find  it  convenient  and  useful  to  act  with  him  and  to  second  him.  There 
is,  however,  no  doubt  that  the  lower  order  of  Catholics,  almost  to  a  man, 
esteem  him  as  the  guardian  angel  of  their  country  and  their  religion;  as 
identified,  in  fact,  with  Catholic  Ireland. 

**  If,  after  the  Catholic  claims  had  been  fully  conceded,  O'Connel  had 
chosen  to  co-operate  with  the  Government,  and  the  well-disposed  of  all 
parties,  in  allaying  animosities,  and  endeavouring  to  tranquillize  the 
country,  Ireland  would  at  this  tiilie  be  the  most  improving  portion  <^  the 
British  dominions.  It  has  immense  resources  and  capabilities,  which 
only  want  capital  to  develop  them.  At  the  time  I  speak  of,  there  was  a 
•redundancy  of  capital  in  England,  which  would  have  flowed  into  Ireland 
instead  of  into  foreign  lands,  provided  there  had  been  a  rational  prospect 
of  tranquillity  in  that  distracted  island.*'— vol.  ii.  pp.  116 — 118. 

The  name  of  Dan^s  house  is  Derrinane,  though  he  himself  calls 
it  now  Deninane  Abbey. 

"  It  is  an  extensive  pile,  a  most  singular  jumble  of  incongruous  ftddi« 
tions,  part  of  it  weather-shited,  part  of  it  aping  the  castellated*  style.  I 
believe,  though,  that'  its  accbibinodation  within  is  much  superior  to  its 
appearance  without.  There  is  some  attempt  at  gardens  and  grounds 
immediately  around  it,  but  neither  Nature  nor  western  bveases  bave 
favoured  the  Liberator's  improvements.  In  front  is  a  boggy,  meadow ; 
and  be3roDd  that  a  ridge  of  sand,  which  extends  to  the  shore  of  the  little 
bay.  The  situation  is  wild  and  secluded,  and  therefore  strikingly  in  con- 
trast with  the  busy  scenes  in  which  Mr.  O'Connel  is  usually  ocenpied. 

'*  I  rode  round  the  house  as  near  as  I  could  without  intruding,  and  while 
thus  engaged  was  much  surprised  to  see  '  the  great  O'  coming  out  to  meet 
me.  I  must  do  him  the  justice  to  say  that  he  accosted  me*  with  the 
politeness  of  a  gentleman,  and  the  hospitality  of  an  Irishman,  inviting 
me,  in  the  kindest  manner,  as  a  stranger,  to  dine  and.  sleep  at  his  house. 
This  invitation,  however,  I  was  reluctantly  compelled  to  decline,  partly 
iTom  feeling  my  time  to  be  very  limited,  but  chiefly  from  tlie  arrange- 
ments I  had  made  respecting  my  car  and  baggage,  which  were  waiting  for 
me  at  Sneem.  He  repeated  the  invitation  more  than  once,  in  a  manner 
that  both  shewed  he  wished  me  to  accept  it,  and  also  that  he  was  not 
accustomed  to  be  refused :  but  I  obstinately  withstood  aU  his  solicitations, 
much  to  my  after  regret ;  and  thus  lost  an  opportunity  of  seeing  one  of 
the  most  remarkable  men  of  his  time,  under  peculiarly  favoiurable  cireum- 
stances. 

.  "  I  however  gladly  accepted  his  ofler  of  refreshments,  and  accompanied 
blm  into  the  house.  The  drawing  room,  into  which  I  was  shewn,  is  a 
toew  and  spacious  apartment :  the  ^rniture  was  neat,  but  nothing  more. 
There  were  on  the  walls  a  few  moderate  engravings;  some  that  appeared 
to  be  Austrian :  one  of  General  Devereux ;  another  of  Healy  Hutchinson ; 
another  of  the  Princess  Charlotte.  But  the  two  to  which  he  chiefly  di- 
rected my  attention  were  a  pair  of  engravings,  representing  tlie  princi|)al 
Fonnders  of  the  Catholic  Association;  in  the  centre  of  the  one  stands 


570  I^  Anghr  in 

taiiBidf;- in  tfae^eentretif  Uie  other*  hia. only: rind  at  .tfaeie^ftwilaHi^gifMi 

'  The  coHversttticm^  ire  are  next  M^/here  took  a  tiirti  (biriu«it  tM 
difielrent  characters  of  each*  individual  there  ponrtraved.  tfc  Wf-^^ 
traits  xif  himself,  &c.,  dtirinfif  ^vdiich,  he  isefensed  mw  ma<Ai^\%Ifif 
complacency  to  the  part  he  had  pidyed  on  the  WQijd!^s  *£lgf ';  buf 
more  Qfl  a  matter  of  history  than  of  poUtlcs. 

^'  I  thought  it  was  hia  evident  wish  to  mubfi  a^  niyotiyrc^^,  ^f^^K^WRR 
dfi  tbb  Saxoa  st^iuiger ;  and  i&  that  he  certainly,  sacceeded  to  aome  ezibestt|. 
ffindneM  and  attention,  I  trust>  I  shall  alirays  appieGiate,  from  whaterei; 
qiliffter  they  may  oomet  but«  when  received  from  a.tnan  Hke  Mr-C€on« 
Bidlt  wiAMmt  the  aUshteet.  .<d«»m  to-hii./scticif^jiieyinatviiillr -di^^  the 
hMit'loi#elnu)ve  Jkitidiy  tMiv«drdft'bioi:'i^r«b«ra  tlienii.  -  My4aipm«o» 
of  hiA'pimite  phanMnter  wahi;;tboeefiii«  aomewhafe <aii»e<Ht iby^  thiH.  gljmpwi 
of  hia  domeatip- iBBJineaBi  :eo0pobeMte4iM!i<<i^^l^hyA.^.1^ 
ow^  ^yim  me.<tf  him-  by  bift'iainmd4alei.n«ij^^  *  But 

my  opinion  of  hia  puUlc  fiendiict^  0fi«mri^eu  iwmiiiiid^  ei^^ 

l^eiEbre.our  interview ;  or,  if  any  thing,  was  only  eoufionedand  atreDg^hase|i; 
**  O'Gonnell  haa  been  called  ambitiona.  He  dguhlieas.  ia;  m  aeme 
degree,  umiUwua:  but  I  ahonld  aay  that  he.  ia^^inflnilely^  more  ^vMb 
YiuuAy,  aa  la»  aa«I  can  jvig^  ia  tiw  laading,?chainittHBatic  ?e£  ihtaidia*'' 
poaitif^nr  and  aell,  in  aome  ahape  ior.olher#.  h»^g»aifti«Ddl  aadL ausia^v Jt 
■aoepehr  heUefCr  that  what  moatiggaliMiiiridto  on  ohtai^g^lhe  fiartiaiiii 
Keliet- Bill  waatkot  >ti^  reKef  it  wcnkl aibai  kciamd*  -aMAih^^mmkmmAt 
too  ahrawd  not  to  know  waa  one  of  worda  only  for  the  great  maaacnlinft 
Q(«Hitrytf»eii ;  bttttahe  able*  to  aayv  ^ X^iMis;^  iaublmfm^aiiiBayryeeii*. 
vineed  that  oMioh  ihe^ame^metive  •inflaea»ca'hitt'tB*2tta>pi«Bat  anaiynote 
oC 'Repeal/'  Heia infinifcaly  tag >ngaaiena nc^toi  lanaee  ttetrawTflaola 
measure  would  ineviliMy  canse  the  downld  xOMi  /eaiintiaes. .-  Iiial  if 
aigitalioR  at  leaat.  aervea  to  keep  him  jnthapuldic  ya.aad.aaontlii>>  9v]^ich 
Ibng  habita  of  vanity  have  rendered  neceaaary  tolua  happioeaa^  jm  U|^ 
liriae  to  aui^ly  a  popular  theme  f<^the  Rent-oo^^  which  appean:the  frnnpl 
<*ject  of  hia  thanghta.''--voL  ii.  TO.  126— 12d. 

.  There  ie  no  hiskjoi  confident  in  all  tbis,;.iK»r  is:  there  .imdnif 
l^ateiUl  fiaelingy  when  we  reflect  <»i  Dan^e  haapiiality  to  qBr*»Angharkt 
On 'a^eeciiuit  of  tbe-mamiitudie  of  thai  theoMa.  not  thairalnoffif  ^bm 
cnaditiea  her«  thrown.  <»it,  we  Mfcraot  a  little  marift^  wmriolaete 
deeely  comieflAed  witk OH^MoeU'a fUNMu  ,       j.;  .v 

^'The  Repeal  of  the  Union,  if  eflbeted  at  alt  latiafib^  effMfl#t<»^ti» 
Bemocraey ;  and  the  fiMmeaanfe^ afbttr^eataUiithie^a 4egie>iia>idil  itallwa^ 
leg^Wfttareitt  DaUia,  weaiMte  the  aeiante  ^  att teiwnA  fmpeitf  >taMi  IM 
tzaiiafening  more  or  leas  of  it  to  the  Roman  OatjMio  pneathood  n  iMa 
9€(imd  would  be  the  confiacatioa  of  all  estates  beloegitag  to  Ataol^aabj 
accompanied  or  followed  by  the  rertitaptioir  of  all-tiie  ferMted-^Oiiw 

**  It  ia  impossible  not  to  see  that  a  large  portion  of  the  PMeatasf^  of 
IMimd  eonMder  dieinatiltea  tti^atly  treated  by 'the  !llriaib*qei<ii»A»«*^ 
and  rttf  many  of  them  seem- to  look  fonivnid  lo  'time*  of  trttiioll^dMf  lM|. 
peHBeeution.  if  net^iBityfdom;  for  theur  religion,  ^och  aa^woadd^tMd/tti*' 
mefiMTf  of  the  eailieat>  daiyii  of  thie  Church,  i  hop«,  tsf^  HBf^hWIiMti' 
that  they  ^tt^miatalfonitt  tlMCghlemy  antidpa^otti;  tet  ^^^NrWtfMK 


.the  time  thtt  wligiovt  jMryimctii^AaD  jk><  leoger*  mt  one  dai*  d^  bifk 
•gainat  tiieir  brethren,  and  brekuul  «9Bkiflt  tlie  vtst  of  o«r  eomoioD 
country}  I  tru&t  thai  that  glorious  time  will  c^tainly  ariive;  but  it 
cluiinot  be  coqjured  up  by  any  legerdemain  of  legislation ;  it  umti  foU^ir 
tlie  gradual  education  and  enlightenment  of  the  people.''-r-Tol.'ii*.jqp* 
131,  132. 

The  author's  accoant  of  something  like  an  adventure^  leads  to  a 
teiitim^nt  which  we  have  often  heara^  in  reference  to  the  safety  oC 
strangers  travelling  in  the  Greeu  Isle.  He  encounters  a  man  gal- 
loping at^an  alarmed  rate  after  sunset,  and  asks  what  is  the  matter* 

.  •• » The  matter  ?  is  it  the  matter,  your  Honour  ?— Och,  sure  he  had  likA 
t»  have  been  morthepsd*  entirely,  by  <«ome  bad  boys  up  tiie  road  there, 
ii4io'WCre  £gbtitig  together,  aad  had  kilt  him  wilfa  stones' — ^and  he  kmdly 
pBVOiised-ni&  the  same  fiata,  it  I  penisted  in  going  on  my  way. 

'*  I  had,  however,  been  too  long  in  Ireland  to  have  any  soeh  feam  for 
myself,  provided  thiey  knew  that  1- was  a  stnmger :  I  aocwdingly  pvmued 
my  Toad  very  quietly ,<  and  soon*  came  to  the  spot,  where  some  twenty  or 
tldrty  fellows  wett  quarrelling  and  fighting,  more  with  Ivords  'tiian  with 
bkyws.  There  were  three  or  four  mounted  on  horseback;  who  seemed  to 
be*thff  hrost  MspectableDfthe  party  r  and,  wishing  atonoe  to  hmait 
mysdf  with 'this  safegtmrd  that,  in  Ireland,  always- attires  td  ^e  cfaaraMA^ 
of  a  stratiger^^or  whieh*  I  knew  I  hadbut  to  open'my -motatb)/ 1  at  oade 
s*de  ap  taioiier  of  tfajem»:  asKl  goad  hamcmMdly  asked  hkn^ 


^  At  the-fbreign  tonee  of  my  .voiee,  Irish  eurioidty  neatmlked  Irish  pvtg^ 
oioityi  and  they  afl  crowded  nNmd  me,  and  answered, '  it  was.  only  two 
or  iknie  of^m  beys  that  had  had  a  qaarrel  among  themselves ;  but  that 
it  waa  nothiBg  at  ail,  •  at  afl.'  "-*-voK  ii.  pp.  WJ,  168. 

in'tbese  vtdames  we  seldom  find  any  thing  said  of  a  graat  inari> 
that  does' not  run  it  thai  general  strain  of  ealogv/which  coAveya. 
-nothiti^  distinct;  and  only  seeias  fts  if  the  writer,  had  got  it  from 
some  dependant  of  the  person  spoken  of;  who  probably  was  not 
qocatiatwd'far.  more  than  ten  minotas.  It  is  an  easy  way  of  fcrm- 
ing.Q^kBur.  :TanriBtay'  such  as  the  author,  travel  genm^y  wHh 
aaary  camfort  at  their  x»minaad/  snnny  d^ys,  or  pleasant  w^tber 
aK^dmsttnhy'dieni,  whan  licnaare  to  be  visited,  and  an.nnoom-- 
mon  degree  of  complacency- and  compliment  attaches  te  their  spirita' 
aipd  toqgoetfi^wlien  thay  talk  of  4lia  many  fine  thmga  that  were  be- 
hdd.  We  donot  sajythfeit  UieidUowing'chaKaetMr  oB  the  Doka^ 
I>e»eonshire'9  agent,  who  resides  at  liiamore  Caatk,  is  not  Just, 
'  wh^n  *it  informs  ns;  that  he  appears  to  take  eiceeltent  care  of  the 
pfopierty;  btft  what  we  mean  is,  that  there  is  no  dependc^nce  or 
value  in  such  vaj;tie  and  feeble  assertions. 

^  The  reader  must  understand  that  the  agents  aai|dDyed  apon  thaJasfe 
pnqperties  belonging- to  absentee  landloidain  Ireiaad  are-  a  vary  superior 
cJaas  to  the  generality  of  those  who  are  so  called  in  Eagknd,  J^^pam  the 
pefij^jar-  qrenmsrancea  in  which  these  estates  are  placed,  ^ay  necesaanly 
eiemsa  iffostnl  th»  rights, .  fad  epj^ymaphof  th^  m^ijtmtumriotpnh- 
prietDlship*  They  are  usoally  amgistrates/aad  being  often  well  oonaeeted. 


^72  The  Angler  in  IreUnd. 

in  addition  to  the  infinenoe  attached' to  t^em  as  the  efficient  representa- 
tires  of  large  landowners  and  the  administrators  of  extensive  piopertiea, 
possess  great' weight  in  their  respective  neighbourhoods.  The  salaries  are 
also  generally  liberal,  so  that  it  is  no  wonder  these  situatioBB  ahoald  be 
freqaently  filled  by  gentlemen  of  the  highest  respectability. 

'*  Not  to  mention  the  striking  example  of  this  fact,  in  the  very  place  J 
am  n6w  describing,  I  will  only  quote  a  single  instance  from  the  Countj  of 
Wicklow,  where  the  resident  agent  of  a  much  respected  nobleman  ia  a 
person  of  excellent  family,  long  known  in  St.  Stephen's  as  the  representa- 
tive of  one  of  the  first  cities  in  the  empire,  and  universally  regarded  by 
those  who  have  the  pleasure  of  his  acquaintance  as  a  model  of  the  English 
country  gentleman.  Where  such  agents  are  selected,  the  great  evil  of 
absenteeism  is  considerably  counteracted ;  and  those  duties  of  protection, 
indulgence,  example,  which  a  resident  proprietor  ought  to  discharj^ 
towards  his  tenantry,  are  in  a  great'measure  supplied."— vol.  ii.  pp.  2^ 
—226. 

Absenteeism  is,  therefore,  according  to  the  Angler,  not  such  a  bad 
thing  after  all.  Going  to  church  is  a  sacred  duty,  and  that  regu- 
larly too ;  but  are  we  not  led  to  suppose,  that  he  has  either  been  so 
unaccustomed  to  it  previous  to  His  tour  in  Ireland^  as  to  note  it 
amongst  the  extraordinary  events  in  his  experience  tbere,  or  that 
he  is  apt  to  make  a  great  profession,  in  so  far  as  words  go.  He 
seems  never  to  have  spent  a  Sabbath  at  chur<^  whilst  on  his  aagiiag 
excursion,  without  telling  us  of  it.     He  is  still  at  lABmtxt^ 

"  The  next  day  being  the  Sabbath,  I  attended  divine  service  at  the  Ca- 
thedral. The  approach  to  it  is  handsome,  but  the  exterior  has  little  eXcoDt 
its  spire  to  merit  notice.  The  nave  is  spacious,  but  appears  scarc^y 
finished.  At  its  western  end  is  a  very  flattering  and  feeling  inscription,  to 
the  memory  of  the  late  Dean  Scott,  who,  from  all  the  accounts  I  heard  of 
him,  seems  to  have  been  one  of  those  thoroughly  good  and  delightful  mea 
so  Seldom  met  with  in  real  life.  His  reward  is  doubtless  witii  him!  *" — 
vol.  ii.  p.  229. 

Real  life! — where  are  men  met  in,  but  thwe?    But  the  dean  was . 
a  dignitary,  and,  doubtless,  his  reward  is  with  him!     How  does^ 
the  Angler  know?    If  this  is  not  cant,  it  is  as  bad  as  Calvinism^ 
and  not  half  so  nervous  and  instructive  as  those  of  that  creed  ahov. 
themselves  to  be  as  writers.     With  profound  reverence  and  sSence 
let  us  ever  think  on  the  state  of  the  departed.     We. follow  up, Che 
last  extract  by  quoting  the  paragraphs  that  immediately  foUow/  . 

"  The  choir  is  neat,  and  even  elegant;  the  congregation  was numenivSi  ■ 
and  of  the  most  respectable  appearance  and  demeanour ;  the  of^pui  bad 
and  badly  played ;  but  the  service  on  the  whole  well  performed,  althongh 
my  previously  recorded  objections  to  extempore  preaching  were  Miythiiy 
bat  removed  by  this  day's  experience. 

"  The  afternoon  was  again  so  very  rainy  that  I  not  oaly  aav  I  mast 
give  up  all  idea  of  fishing,  but  was  afredd  J  should  be  prevented  seeii^  tbe 
lower  part'of  the  river,  which  had  been  described  to  me  as  e^iemclyfae- 
toresqae*  However^  the  next  morning  appeared  beaiUifiiliy  dbeift  and 
was  suooetded  by  a  remarkably  fine  autumml  day«  of  wfaiQii.:I^adly 


Tfu  Akgitrin  IreUnd.  573 

'wn&eA\nya^,  to'ptLj  a  promifted  visit  to  a  gentleman,  whp  lias  lately 
OHBcted  a  splendid  mansion  on  the  banks  of  the  Blackwater,  about  six  or 
•even  miles  below  I48more,"-*-vol.  ii.  pp'.  229,  230. 

li  W6  understand  these  passages'  correctly,  the  author  meant  to 
have  fished  on  the  afternoon  of  tiie  Sabbath  he  discovered  that 
Deaii  Seott  had  been  rewarded  for  having  been  a  ^^  thoroughly  good 
and  delightfiil  man."  If  so^  we  should  not  wonder  but  that  the 
deceased  may  have  recommended  his  memory  to  the  author,  by 
practising  the  gentle  art,  on  a  Sunday  afternoon  also.  We  can  now 
pretty  nicely  measure  the  Angler's  piety;  he  is  one  of  our  rational 
christians ;  no  wonder  he  dislikes  evangelical  religion,  which  he  so 
often  steps  out  of  his  way  to  smear  with  cold  milk  and  water.  But 
this  is  a  topic  we  seldom  touch,  and,  therefore,  we  once  again  just 
call  the  reader's  attention  to  the  importahce  of  the  information  in 
the  last  quoted  paragraph.  The  afternoon  was  wet — I  was  pre* 
v^ted  seeing  the  lower  part  of  the  river — However,  the  next 
morning  was  beautifully  clear — I  gladly  paid  a  promised  visit  to  a 
gentleman,  who  had  erected  a  splendid  mansion  (of  course.)  Such 
kind  reader,  is  the  sort  of  mighty  information  that  fills  more  than 
half  of  these  volumes. 

Of  the  Waterford  family  our  Angler  is  very  laudatory:— 

^He  seems  to  have  retired  in  disgust  from  the  unsatisfactory  arena  of 
Irish  politioB,  which,  under  the  guiding  band  of  Mr.  O'Connell  and  the 
Priests,  are  believed  to  have  occasioned  his  father's  death.  I  heard  this 
young  nobleman  universally  spoken  of  in  the  highest  and  warmest  terms; 
and  I  therefore  trust  that,  in  better  and  not  far  distant  days,  he  will  re- 
gf^in  that  confidence  and  influence  among  his  neighbours,  to  which  surely 
a  high-minded  gentleman  and.  a  kind-hearted  landlord  is  more  entitled 
than  an  alien  and  mischievous  demagogue." — vol.  ii.  pp.  251, 252. 

We  recommend  the  Angler,  as  well  as  our  readers,  to  look  back 
to  what  we  have  ettracted  from  Mr.  Inglis'  work  regarding  the 
noble  family  represented  by  the  present  marquis,  or  rather  to  resort 
to  the  entire  work  itself.  We  conclude,  after  one  extract  more ; 
every  man  that  travels  in  Ireland,  at  least  every  talkative,  forward 
man,  has  his.  nostrum  for  curing  all  the  evils  peculiar  to  the  coun- 
try. Hear  our  author;  and,  reader,  observe,  all  the  musts,  and 
then  suppose  they  are  as  easily  fulfilled  as  uttered. 

'^  In  forming  any  schemes  for  the  benefit  of  Ireland,  it  is  evident  that 
first  of  all  this  system  of  agitation  must  be  put  down,  or  capital  and  em- 
ploymtfit  will  not  be  introduced  iikto  the  country,  neither  will  the  people 
haire  any  habitual  respect  for  or  recourse  to  the  constitutional  channels  of 
rdief.  Next,  the  authority  of  the  Law  must  be  indisputably  established, 
asd  confidence  in  the  purity  of  its  administration  universally  confirmed. 
«*  -In  connexion  with  these  valuable  objects,  the  peasantry  who  are  willing. 
tfkiabDur  must  be  insured  against  the  possibility  of  destitution  or  starv- 
aljicm.'  Aad  lastly,  but  prindpsiUy ;  befbre  Ireland  can  really  assume  and 
retain  her  proper  rank  as  a  great  nation,  the  religious  knowledge  of  the 
▼ast  majority  oi  the  lower  orders  must  be  enlightened  and  reformed. 
*^  These  are  the  main  points  in  which  Ireland  at  present  most  requires 

FOL,  ni.  (1834.)  NO.  IV.  tt 


^74 


JV^^aMT. 


mpmfemtmtt  and  I  mmU  hoiMliiat  m.dl  oi  iha^ukmatiABifMi^  94^ 
towards  a  better  state  of  tluags  laiYe  been  laade^^^Tol.  it  p|t..28Q*M9^ 

We  have  little  more  to  add.  Oar  opinioQ  of  these  volumes  hm 
beea  Mly  emressed :  and  the  extmote  pretty  oorxecfl]r  speak  frr 
th»  whole,  "nie  Angl^  in  Ireland^  ia  a  almdef -anthMr ;  aK^amiabk, 
but  somewhat  bigotted  man.  We  aife  aaitisfied  that  hia  failings 
Jean  to  virtue's  side ;  but  stiU  he  is  quite  un»|Ml  to  tha  bandbng 
of  great  matters,  or  doing  more  than  tell  ustMtritestthiBg8«  hk 
the  gentle  art  he  is  but  a  meiocre  professor. 


NOTICES. 


Aav.  XUL-^Andenoes  of'CkrisU 
"danify;  (yr.  Uncle  PhUip's  Con- 
versadons  with  the  0/uldren 
about  the  Truth  of  the  Christian 
Religion.  18mo.  pp.  208.  Lon- 
don :  O.  Rich. 

This  is  one  of  a  scries  of  little 
American  works  written  for  the  be- 
nefit of  children ;  and  when  we  say, 
that  on  the  all-important  subject 
treated  in  it,  we  have  found  not 
only  the  simplest  forms  of  language 
used,  the  utmost  regard  to  fucts, 
and  certainly  the  most  artless  ap- 
pearance of  arrangement,  it  is  ad- 
vancing a  great  deal  more  than 
IfeMrallyean  he  done  of  such  books. 
But  we  add,  that  besides  all  these 
qualities,  we,  who  are  not  of  the 
tender  age  aui^osed  to  be  address- 
ed, were  so  interested  by  this  un- 
pretending and  prettily  got  up  vo- 
lume, as  to  be  carried  on  from  one 
chapter  to  another,  not  only  satis- 
fied with  the.  reasoning  but  de- 
lighted by  the  narratives,  which  are 
liot  broken  into  disjointed  portions 
by  the  dialc^ue  form  that  has,  been 
adopted.  A  more  laboured  recom- 
mendation could  not,  therefore, 
better  convey  our  sentiments  of 
the  work,  than  when  we  say,  that 
piBirents  and  children  may  be  equally 
and  simultaneously  benefitted  by  a 
perusal  of  it. 


Aav*  XIV. — Arohmy  and  ArsA- 
nesf.  By  Robih  Hood.  Ifimo.  pp. 
204.  London :  T.  Hurst  1884. 

Wb  are  too  grave  to  hav«  muck 
liking  for  squibs,  quissinga,  and 
puns,  especially  when  sought  afiier 
and  laboured  by  dull^t  study,  aiid 
reduced  into  a  handsomely  printed 
shape,  to  be  read  months  aliber  thi^ 
have  been  manufaetnrad.  Clavar- 
ness  caimot  get  over  these  ciicttBi- 
stances  entirely,  at  least  with  iis»aad 
therefore  the  author  of*  **  Archery 
and  Archness"  must  excoae  usif  va 
confess  our  prepossessiaos  were 
against  him  before  we  had  read  the 
half  of  hb  reft-lettered  pns£soe.  At 
the  same  time,  our  hostile  freliogs 
somewhat  lowered  their  tone  as  wa 
proceeded;  and  to  those  who  have  a 
taste  for  such  matters- as  are  hereto 
be  found,  we  say  that  all  the  pieces. 
and  they  are  very  misoeflamSaills, 
are  good  naturedand  hannleaa)  and 
that  some  of  them  carry  s  moral 
worthy  of  admiration.  Them  are 
many  persons  who.  will  enjoy  (ha 
little  volume,  and  lau^h  hearOpto 
thebargait,  on  its  pehisal;  we 
were  partieukrly 'pleased  wiA  ilia 
prose  articles,  espedaByAb  **liBa- 
son  m  Haviewitig'  (The  Task,  9»y 
W.  Ootrper,  gsq;)?'  an*^ ;'*;Tfca 
CriiSaal  soul  FUiosdpUbal  Oielisa^ 
ary:**       -    - • 


t  •  <i -Ik  t* 


.■i' 


..  t 


.  ^ 


II.1S 


Jfetioftff 


niustraiiorM  afihe  Bibh.  Ptart  VI. 

We  cannot  have  any  thing  new  to 
say  of  these  beautiful  illustrations, 
h^yond  that  which  we  have  before 
expressed,  until  they  fall  back  from 
ihair' former  character,  an  occur- 
x^nce  that  may*  be  considered  as 
most  improbable,  from  the  talent 
employed  upon  them.    The  first  in 
this  number  represents  the  River 
Kishon ;  "  The  river  of   Kishon 
swept    them    away,   that  ancient 
river,"  says  Deborah,  in  her  tri- 
tiinjphant  sotog.     Fart  of   Motfiit 
Carmel  is 'Shown  prominently,  the 
fiK>t  of  which  the  Kishon  reaches. 
T%6  second  illustration  is  of  No* 
Ambn  or  Thebes,  representing  par- 
tieuMrly  the  portico  of  the  Ortet 
Temple  at  Kamak,  and  giving  an 
knpressiif  e  cbmment  on  these  wopds 
of  Ezekiel— ••  No,  tfhall  be  rent 
ftsnnd^,''    The  third  is  the  WU- 
deraess  of  Bngedi;and  the  Convent 
<^  Bimta    Baba,  which  cgntrssts 
tftrilk^gly  with  Hie  test  view,  vfe. 
that  €f  Mount  LebEOion  and  the 
Rmm  of  Saibflc*    For  the  gay  or 
for  the  gmre  nothing<an  be,  in  (Aie 
way  of  mod«m  pietotiial  illuslra- 
lions,  rmte  deitghtCai  than  the  se- 
rl«s  tb  whi«^  the  partbefore  us 
^  beionglk 


.4^ 


patts  are  deMneaMd,  with  tlis 
tory ,  Ac 

IflQeychuvch  is  known  to  all  who 
viiH  the  immediate  viciijity  of  Ox- 
ford to  be  an  interestii^  speciwen 
of  ancient  architpeture.  ThescMth 
porch,  as  here  represented,  is  one 
of  surpassing  massive  beauty»  aod 
seems  as  perfect  as  when  newly 
erected.  But  we  cannot  do  more 
than  recommend  to  the  lovers  of 
the  picturesque,  of  antiquarian  lore, 
S^  architectural  knowledge,  these 
memorials  of  England's  imposing 
Qe»t  of  learning.  Oxford  fur]|]»1i^ 
an  august  subject  for  p^n  and 
pencil. 


k».%.XVl.^Mwuniakof  Oxford, 
Hhim^Ml  md  Dksenftim  Afi- 
dotlfOf  of  the  G&Ueg4s,  HaUt, 

'  Churches,  ^.    No.  20. 

Tm»f  when  completed,  will  be^  a 

rich  and  valuable  work.  ^  The  his- 

.  tpixcal  matter  is  the  fruit  of  much 

.  cesearch,   the  ^pogxaphy  of   the 

,  most  beautiful  order*  and  the  en- 

gravii^s  to  be  prized  for  their  ar- 

cbitecjtiual  precirion.    The  present 

liiuaber  is  devoted  tolffley  Church 

apd  Parish,  in  which  the  church, 

and  several  of  its  most  interesting 


Abt.  XVlh—Huiary  of  England. 
By  HtJKis  and  Smollbtt,  with  a 
Continuation  by  the  Rev.  T.  S* 
HuoBEs,  B.D.  Vol  .X.  Lpn- 
don:  A.  J.  Vfelpy,  M.A.  18W. 

Thb  present  volume  of  this  history 
continues  Queen  Anne's  reign,  by 
Smollett,  from  1703  down,  to  Ae 
fifth  year  of  George  II.,  in  1732. 
The  beauty  of  the  tyipe.  and  the 
clearness,  as  well  as  delicacy,  of  lihe 
illustrations,  which  this  edition  of 
the  standard  History  of  England 

S resents,  are  already  widely  aiid 
eservedly  known.  There  is,  ^n- 
deed,  noting  left  for  us  to  tell  re- 
garding it,  unless  our  notice  may 
bp  supposed  to  meet  the  eye  of 
some  one  who  is  still  a  stranger  to 
the  edition.  To  such  a  one  we 
only  say,  if  he  ever  thinks  of  pur- 
chasing a  copy  of  such  a  history, 
either  for  a  pocket  companion,  or 
for  convenient  fire-side  handling, 
none  other  than  Valpy's  edition  Can 
be  recommended.  The  size,  cheap- 
ness, and  perfect  beauty  of  each 
volume,  unite  to  cstablidi  the  cha- 
racter we  give  of  the  whole. 


fi7C 


JVWIi^ 


Aml  XVllh-^Rmiamt  0/  the  hU^^ 

JameB  Fox  Loagnur^t  with  a  Afe-> 

^  mfiir  of  Ms  Life.     By   Daitiel 

LoMOMiRB,  B.  A.  Loodon:  Simp* 

kio  and  Marshall.     1834. 

Th«»e  Remains  consist  of  poems* 
and  prose  essays^writlen  by  a  youi^ 
scholar  of  Worcester  College,  Ox* 
ford,  and  before  he  was  twentv-two 
years  of  age.  He  was  an  amiable 
and  religious  youth,  giving  great- 
promise  of  future-  eminence,,  but 
death  took  him  early  away.  The 
volume- is  edited  by  a  brother,  who 
has  prefixed  a  life  of  the  lamented- 
scholar,  in  which  fraternal  feelings 
of  affection  and  regret  are  very  pro- 
minent.  Many  of  the  pieces  were 
never  intended  by  the  writer  for 
publication,  others  were  prize  poems, 
and  only  in  the  event  of  success  in 
attaining  their  immediate  object, 
wet«  to  have  seen  the  light;  and 
therefore  the  editor  has  looked  for  a 
favourable  reception  of  the  whole, 
m  a  considerable  measure,  from  the 
partiality  of  the  friends  of  the  de- 
ceased, and  the  circumstances  in 
which  the  pieces  were  composed. 
The  severitv  of  criticism  is  thus  de- 
precated.  At  the  same  time  it  is  but' 
just  to  say  of  them,  without  any  re- 
ference to  the  circumstances  of  th^ 
writer,  that  the  poems  are  very 
sweet  and  beautiful.  They  no  doubt 
at  once  appear  to  be  juvenile  per- 
formances ;  but  this  is  a  recommen- 
dation in  one  sense,  since  therefore 
they  are  the  more  natural.  At  the 
same  time,  they  show  -^hat  better 
things  might  have  been  expected  of 
such  a  genius  had  the  world  been 
blessed  by  possessing  him  during  a 
maturer  age. 

The  Memoir,  however,  whicb  at 
first  glance  may  be  thought  quite 
disproportioned  to  the  amount  of 
the  Remains,  inasmuch  as  it  nearly 
occupies  the  half  of  the  volume, 
coustitutes,  when  taken  in  connexion 
with  those  Remains,  a  highly  inte- 
resliDg  and  inatrUctive  work.    Vf€ 


cannot  better  or  in  so  shorf  a  tptnok 
describe*  die  "Whole  than  Isy  saying 
that  the  deceased  belonged  to  th& 
school  of  Henry  Kirke' White/ in 
many  particulars.  As  an  attractive 
and  truly  valuable  memoir,  in  the 
highest  sense  of  the  words,  we 
heartily  recommend  its  perusal  to 
youths  of  accomplished  and  edu- 
cated minds,  whilst  the  poems  can 
only  properly  be  appreciated  by  a 
knowledge  of  the  author*s  history. - 


clesiastieal  Directory^   &c*  kc. 
pp.  196.  London :  Hux9t^  1834*. 

We  learn  from  the  prefkee  of-  tibh*- 
neat  little  volume,  which  is^mbel-L' 
lished  by  pretty  wood-eut  engnn^ 
infifs  of  some  of  thetnoat  octlebrattfd' 
choiehee  in  Londoo,  ltot'it-wi»^ 
compiled  at  the  sugfyestkte-of  ft* 
reverend  gefitleoAan  wlio  Oecttriotf^' 
ally  yisila'the  m«tropolist  Hw^etvi*-* 
deotly  a  vn>rk  filte<l  to  be«i§«iieik-* 
tial'Berviceto  persons'8nxi<Nii^4iir ' 
an.eaaygaidc  t^fthe- viud<ni»  «iid> 
most  popular  places  of  worshipift^' 
Idftdoa^-^wt  may  add{to  e<r0r]rfAi#e  - 
of  Ohi^Btwn^'aadr  J«^risli.<W(mhip^ 
of  4he  leut'ftdte,  vrfaMi  ie^no^oMtt^ 
matter,    it  f^ire^  the  <shtt«efa«s  *ni* 
chapels  of  the  e8tabliflmekit,triMt«' 
they  are  situated,  who  oflSciates  In 
them,  afldat  whattiiiiea'a^d  in  wtes 
manner.    Nay,  not  only  does  tlie 
autborof  the comprlation  deamfe-* 
the-iumiier^  bmt  theiaaifeaf'&tD^^te 
expected  frooi'theidiffeMat  prsaaii 
ers.    This  is  no  doubt  a  delioMe 
part  of  the  performance  before  us'^  - 
but,  in  so  far  as  we'  have' ted  nt 
opportunity  of  judging,  it  is  dcoae 
with  particular  dtSfSrinrination  and 
discretion.     The  same  method  is* 
followed,  though  not  always 'so-nd- 
nutely,  whh  other  denominatiofia. 
Independents,    Roman    Cathbliea»' 
Presbyterians,  Quakers,'  kt/    The 
volume  is.really ehtertatflinsf^etti' 
caktdarted  to  be  faighlyvMiAiU^  *"  * 


NtlitHA 


8t7 


Art.  XX. — Tke  Omnipresence  0} 
the  Deity.  A  Poem.  By  Robt. 
MoNTQoHEKY,  B.  A.  Author 
of  "  The  Messiah,"  "  Satan," 
•♦  Death,"  &c.  Thirteenth  edition, 
revised  and  enlarged.  London : 
Simpkin  and  Marshall.  1834. 

This  is  is  not  an  opportunity  in 
which  we  could  enter  into  a  consi- 
deration of  Robert  Montgomery's 
pwoer,  as  a  poet.  Indeed,  it  would 
be  too  late  on  any  occasion  now  to 
disciiss  what  may  be  his  rank  in  that 
cbai^ct^^  for  the  world  hasdeclared 
it  by  purchasing  copies  in  thousands 
upon  thousands  of  bis  works.  So 
tbat,  bowever  mucb  reviewers  may 
have  differed  in  Opinion,  or  critics 
contradicted  oneanotheron  the  sub- 
ject, the  public,  both  at  home  and 
abroad,  have  taken  it  into  their 
own  hands,  heedless  of  what  we  or 
any  of  our  tribe  may  say.  At  the 
same  time,  such  a  general  testimony 
in  behalf  of  the  author  may  safely 
be  considered  the  best,  as«  we  be- 
like, every  poet  and  writer  really 
feels.    ' 

There. are  one  or  two  statemebts 
in  theprefsl^e  to  this  revised  and 
corrected  editiba,  which  are  worthy 
of  iMHiee.  The  autbordeclafes  *'that 
he  has  duly  regarded  the  sugges- 
tions  of  critics,  both  hostile  and 
fneddly ;  that  whatever  the  sceptic 
in  «sr  author's  modesty  may  imagipe, 
Df  the  varied  imperfections  crowded 
in  Msjpages,  no  one  has  been  more- 
conscious  than  he  who  had  the 
greatest  -reason  to  regret  them ; 
and  that  in  the  new  editions  of  his 
poems,  which  are  about  successively 
to  appear,  the  revision  they  have 
each  undergone  will  manifest  the 
sincerity  of  this  avowal."  We  must 
say  that  these  are  statements  as  ho- 
nourable to  the  poet  as  th^y  are 
nobly  severe  upon  those  who  le* 
yelled  unmeasured  severity  against 
his  workSk  as  they  at  iirst  appeared. 
He  also  intimates  that  it  may  b* 


mafiy  yeiiriar  before  he  again  intrudes 
upon  public  attention.  We  doubt 
not  he  does' well  for  bis  own  sake 
to  hnsband  his  popularity  for  a  time ; 
but  we  also  perceive  in  the  resolu- 
tion a  high  respect  lor  public  esti- 
mation, which  many  authon  should 
imitate ;  and  we  add  the  expression 
of  our  hope  that  this  farewell  may 
be  but  temporary. 

■■■»«■  .■■■in  ■,■— ^i«^»— — ^ 

Abt.  XXI. — The  Anatomy  of  the  Seth 
eons,  Weather-Gmide,  and  Perpe- 
tual Companion  to  the  Almanac. 
By  P.  Murphy,  Esq.  London: 
1834. 

A  paBTiT  accurate  estiaiafee  may  be 
formed  of  a  book,  without  reading  a 
page  of  its  principal  contents,  pio* 
vided  the  author,  through  politeness 
or  vanity,  favour  the  reader  with- 
certain  preliminary  matter*  such  as 
Mr.  Murphy  has  so  fbrmally  done* 
For  instance,  there  is  (not  to  speak 
of  a  title  page,  which  telk  us  a 
great  deal  about  tbe.attthor*s  former 
performances),  a  dedication,*  and -to 
no  less  a  personage  than  his  MioiM. 
Excellent  Majesty,  in  which  it  ia 
said,  that  the  King*s  royal  predeeea* 
sors bestowed  distinctions  on  aNew* 
ton  and  a  Herschel;  and  therefore 
that  the  author  is  encouraged  to  sedr 
snch  protection  and  notice.  Thesi 
comes  a  preface  and  an  address  to 
the  reader,  and  an  M^roifac/ioa,  where 
presumption  and  bad  English  ase 
chiefly  conspicuous.  We  pass  overt 
the  body  or  the  work,  and  pounce  1 
upon  the  appendix,  in  which  we  lean 
that  Mr.  Murphy  applied  to  the  Se* . 
cretary  of  the  Royal  Society  of 
London,  that  he  might  be  appointed 
to  write  one  of  the  Bridgewater 
Treatises,  but  that  the  ill-mannered 
secretary  neglected  to  acknowledge 
the  applicant's  letter;  nay,  that  the 
Rev.  William  Whewell  was  selected 
to  execute  the  woik  in  question, 
who  as  our  author  declares,  knows 
nothmgof  the  eutjeet,  nx.,  *'  Astro* 


578 


Nwikffi. 


dtred  iHth  lafttfepce  to  Nalwnd 
TImqIq^."  Poof  Mr.  Mnrpby  luM 
tiiarafcro  nothiiig'  left  m  t2ie  vncy  of 
notmnc,  but  to  publish  tW  pieseut 
work,  tO'dii^Tr  &e  vorM  kow  «uch 
batter  fitted  be  wu  t&Aa  eiibtr 
WtUnm  Whdwell  or  any  oae  else 
on  be,  for  the  perforuince  of  siich 
a  work,  and  to  let  it  be  known  kbw 
ill  used  be  haa  been.  We  shall  only 
tether  state,  that  we  have  counted 
the  repetiti<m  of  caiain  wof  da  to  be 
found  in  one  page,  and  find  th^ir 
obcbrrenqe  somewhat  more  frequent 
tbsn  elegance,  nay,  sense  will  ad- 
mit. The  monosyllable  as,  we  ob- 
serre,  figiBes'tentiBe»in  one  seo* 
Imwihoftii^  appesdns. 


Awr.  XXll.—Lett€r$  to  aMemberof 
P^Ummai  m  t^e  Prtaeni  State  if 
Tkh^s^  the  Ltmd,  tkeCMtreh.Dte-^ 

$ent^  Church  Tteform^  Liberalism, 
4f'C.,  in  reference  to  Scripture 
Truth. 

A  uo9t  Mttmgeoitt  consei^tttive 
pibqiblet,  pufpovtlng  to  be  written 
by  n  minister  of  the  estabtished 
okimrfij  though,  were  any  one  paid 
to  bring  the  establishment  into  dis- 
mpnte,  he  oeuid  not  write  a  more 
illiberal  or  e««n  lalse  rhapsody.  Of 
afgomeat  it  is  destitstt,  with  asser- 
timi  It  ab6ande ;  but  its  foUy  and 
teblettess  might  be  pardoned,  were 
it  not  for  the  oonstant  profoiuttion 
of  lite  Almighty  name,  and  perver- 
sion of  soritttorat  paasnges  therein 
fevnd:  w«  sball  ifirate  two^jsentenees 


from  tiiese  fredous  letters  to  a 
member  of  partis  mewt,  and  liien 
throw  them  J»ide.  The  an&br  is 
4eclariiig  his  fear  for  the  diarch. 
and  thas  attacks  the  members  of 
the  present  government  especially. 
'*  When  I  see  their  law-head,  the 
keeper  of  the  king's  conaCnence,  as 
he  is  oaUed,  aad  Uie  moat  influential 
man,  perbapa  among  them,  giving 
vent  at  every  opJWirtnnity  to  t£e  en- 
mity of  hia  ndnd  against  CM ;  and 
and  when  I  remember  the  oeten- 
tatjpi^  insultr  he  offered  tbe  Loid 
Jesos  Christ,  and  the  churdi  that 
conlesses  hifi,  aoon  after  Jua  ele- 
vation, by  placing  by  his  side,  on  bis 
judgment-seAt,  a  ff>ipig*»r  of  Soci* 
nian  blasphemy  from  Liverpool.''  &e. 
Aa  to  the  grievances  of  tiie  0iaa^- 
ten :  "  It  would  be.a  manifest  t%>> 
l^tioa  of  my  liberty  of  qonapienfe* 
aa  a  minister  of  the  Chmnjh^fiijg- 
lattd,  and  of  ray  rights  wfijfkn  mr 
oambeut  of  the  fdtfioe  wkMkMiBda 
in  the  ohuroh-yard,,  irlJA^  \»  ay 
f reehddm  and  dso  of  the  ridMa  of 
the  cbnrdi  peopk^tewhadi  tkaf! 
both  belong,  for  dieir  sacred  and  W* 
ligioQs  uses :" — ^todo  what,  reader? 
to  yield*  *'  to  theif  daiMmd  of  bnr 
rial  in  our  chnrch-yaid  by  their  own 
miniBtera*  Thiseannetbe  gnmlwl 
upon  any  prindples, .  reUgioaau  tf 
ciril.  .Itinvolfes  the  saacCioaiiC^ 
hondml  or  t  AcpmM  foitiia.  If  tjle 
folly  and  wildnasa  of  nacon  watted 
men  oouU  invent  ifto  mA*y/'  IMf.- 
revaacndSIr,  if.yoarChuldili^vt  to 
otiier  psopa  but  such.as  yo«»  it  enm^ 
not  long  stand,  and  tha  momt  it 
folk  iIm  better. 


CND  or  VOI*.UI. 


INDEX 


TO   THB 


THIRD  VOLUME  OP  THE  MONTHLY  REVIEW  FOR  1834. 


NEW  AND  IMPROVED  SERIES. 


Abn  Abdallahr  his  condact,  430 
A))eo  Cassim,  his  conduct,  426 
Abstemiousness,  advantages  of,  355 
Aboriginal  inhabitanU   of  West    Indies 
•  ftnt  decreasing,  259 
Abbey,  Westminster,  burial  in,  164 
Abyssiaian's  Johnson,  anecdote  of,  157 
Absorption,  an  agent  of,  184 
Accessories,  how  made,  537 
Accawai,  a  tribe  in  British  Qnyana,  254 
Actor,  death  of  a  great,  162 
Act,  Draining,  its  results,  133 
Activity,  advantages  of,  191 
Adviser,  spiritual,  accoihmodating,  78 
Adelphi,  Garrick's  house  in  the,  164 
Adoration,  filial,  exemplified,  36 
Adventurer,  what  Johnson  wrote  in  ther  160 
Affinitives  of  languages  detected,  270— of 

languages,  294 
Affecting  condition  of  the  Armenians,  32 
Affection,  conjugal,  in  Ireland,  517 — ^how 
.   shown  for  Ireland,  507 
Agriculture,  importance  of,  496 
Agents,  noblemen's,  in  Ireland,  571 
Ague,  when  prevalent,  196 
Ages,  Antediluvian  and  Postdiluvian,  270 
Air,  breathing  of  the  same,  90 
Airy.  Professor,  his  investigations,  345 
Alhambra,  gardens  of,  426 
Albatross,  description  of  the,  399 
Alloway  Kirk,  notice  of,  96 
Alchemy,  the  pursuit  of,  210 
Alfred,  laws  of,  regarding  usareis,  59 
Aldborough,  Crabbe's  birth  place,  101 
Amulets,  how  employed,  122 
Amhent,Lord,  reception  of  in  China,  249 
Ambition,  how  exemplified,  493 
Angel's  feather,  an  account  of  the,  40 
Anderson's  Guide  to  the  Highlands  and 

Islands  of  Scotland,  129 

▼OL.  III.  (1834.) 


Anatomy,  province  of,  181 
Animalcules,  spontaneousexistenoeof,  175 
Anne,  Queen,  Statute  of,  on  usury,  63 
Anne,  St  her  day*  27 
Antioch,  Pisidia  of»  discovery  of»  49 
Antigua,  honourable  notice  of,  259 
Angas,  W.  H.,  memoirs  of,  442 
Annuals,  character  of  the,  424 
Andrews,  St,  records  of,  294 
Ancestry,  pride  of,  485 
Angler  in  Ireland,  560 
Antraigues,  Count  D.,  letter  to,  322 
Analysis  of  the  Statistics  of  France,  303 
Aaticipations,  delightful^  summary  of,  39 
Antonio,  St,  notice  of  the  island,  540 
Apamea,  conjectures  respecting,  46 
Apparel,  expensive,  an  act  regarding,  15 
Apocalypse,    analytical  arrangement  of, 

287 
— ^Napier's  work  on  the,  301 
ApoUonia,  remains  of  the  town  of,  48  . 
Armada,  defeat  of  the  Spanish,  how  it' 

affected  men*s  minds,  301 
Arch  Mason»  royal,  oath  taken  by,  534 
Aristocracy,  monied,  306 
Armenia,  missionary  researches  in,  378 
Archery  and  archness,  notice  of,  574 
Arundell,  his  Asia  Minor,  41 
Archipelago,  by  whom  traversed,  266 
Arrawaaks  in  British  Guyana,  254 
Arguments  that  are  cumulative,  220 
Aristocracy  abused,  282 
Arck-priests,  supposition  respecting,  50 
Astrology,  influence  of,  124 
Aspects,  where  to  be  got  of  London,  305 
Ascension,  island  of,  546 
Association,  meetings  of  the  British,  342 
Attribute,  meaning  of  the  word,  176 
Atheism,  meaning  of  the  word,  172 
Athens,  modern,  lecture  about,  283 
AthenKum,  the  Boston,  527 
Atmospheres,  fffectM  of  pure  and  impure,46  0 

u  u 


11 


IKDBZ. 


Atlantic,  tidal  wave  ef  the,  348 
Aiutralian  coaat,  appearance  of,  399 
Autua,  Bishop  of,  who  he  was,  321 
Amoral  obeervations,  ■ystem  of,  346 
Annals  of  the  parish,  partiality  for  the,  371 
Anthology,  the  monthly,  account  of,  527 
Auburn,  Goldgmith^s,  a  character  for,  110 
Authors  studied  by  Scotch  peasantry,  90 
Aviary,  description  of  a  splendid,  408 
Ayrshire,  birthplace  of  Burns,  88 

B 

Bacchus,  lemple  of,  ruins  of,  49 — repre- 
sentation of,  490 

Bandit,  benefits  resulting  from  encounter- 
ing one,  365 

BarenUn,  keeper  of  (he  seals,  323 

Barristers,  briefllets,  their  picture,  339 

BastUe,  destrocUon  of.  326 

Bachelors,  letter  about,  367 

Batavia,  city  of,  its  Altby  state,  406 

Bavarians,  the  pride  of  the,  26 

Baaan,  Don  Alonzo,  who  he  was,  9 

Beauhamais,  Madame  de,  331 

Beeket,  Thomas  k,  his  princely  splendour, 
14— ^particulars  respecting,  203 

Beckford's  Vathek,  when  it  first  ap- 
peared, 32 

Bede,  the  venerable,  his  death,  201 

Beginners,  for  the  use  of,  an  alphabet  of 
natural  theology,  169 

Bell's,'  Sir  Cliarles,  nervous  system  can* 
yassed,  377 

Beelsebub,  the  prince  of  the  devils,  213 

Benevolence  an  attribute  ascribed  to 
Deity,  178 

Ben  Lomond,  notice  of,  140 

•Bennett's  wanderings  io  New  South  Wales, 
396 

Bentinck,  Loid' William*  his  character, 
353 

Bentham,  an  observation  of  hia  62 

Beresford,  Lord,  letter  to,  by  Colonel  Na^ 
pier)  142 — ^lus  letter  on  Long**  Journal, 
289 

Bess,  Queen,  great  ruff  of,  19 

Bible  a  dangerous  book,  281 — ^landscape 
illustrations  of  the,  575 

Bills,  ficfitious,  their  purpose,  64 

Birds,  colony  of,  moniing  and  evening,  409 

Bishop,  duplicity  of  a,  329 

Blacklock,  Dr.,  his  early  notice  of  Bums, 
93 

Blackwood,  testimony  of,  respecting  Ba- 
chanaii,  296 

Boantrul  language  of  the  Chinese,  248     . 

Bochart  his  conjectures  respecting  the 
Ark,  47 

Border,  Burns*  tour  to  the,  94 

Boulevards,  character  of  the,  305 

Boundaries  of  the  middle  ages,  198 


Bourbons,  benefits  of  restoration  oC  312 
Brain,  its  importance  in  the  nervous  sys- 
tem, 190 
Bridgewater  treatise  on  the  attributes  of 
God,  as  manifested  in  the  creation,  219 
Briggs,  mathematical  professor  in  Gresham 

College,  292 
Britain,  contempt  of,  exemplified.  333 — 

free-masons  of,  how  implicated,  536 
Brothers,  story  of  the,  a  tale,  79 
Brown,  the  novelist,  his  enternrises,  526 
Buchanan,  George,  notice  of,  295 
Burial  places,  their  situation  in  Ireland, 

519 
Burke,  Edmund.  Crabbe  writes  to,  106 
Burns,  Robert,  works   o^  by  Cunning. 

ham,  87 
Byrbn,  aiithor  of  the  conversatioiis  of,  146 


Cablb  rope,  a  masonic  term,  533 
Caedmon,  a  poet,  notice  of  him,  200 
Calcutta,  people  of,  what  tfiey  do^  352 
Callen,  wretched  condition  d  the  town. 

512 
Calvinism,  its  supposed  effects,  566 
Cambridge,  meeting  of  British  Associa- 
tion at,  .342 
Cameon's  grave,  where  situated,  507 
Campbell,  his  newspaper,  521 
Canada,  services  rendered  to,  370 
Canal,  how  to  turn  the  Clyde  into  a,  374  . 
Candida's  Tales  for  the  British  people,  277 
Cannibalism  accounted  for,  271 
Cannon,  an  account  of  the  hand,  I7 
Canoes,  form  of,  268 
Cant,  freedom  from,  praised,  895 
Canton,  account  of  the  city  ot  246 
Ci^ie  of  Good  Hope,  Dutch  fiumen  oC  544 
Capital,  amount  of,  for  a  fiumer,  505 
Carnot,  his  opinion  of  Talleyrand,  351 
Carrington*8  collected  poems,  440 
Carts,  «orts  of,  500 
Cashmere  shawls,  present  of,  363 
Cass  Lake,  account  of,  478 
Caste,  flistxnction  of,  265 
Castor  oil  shrubs,  where  abondant,  465    . 
Cato,  hia  authority  on  ^e  umry  laws,  Sdi 
Caution  to  the  people  of  Puerta  Bioo, 
Cavaliers,  costnme  of  the,  22 
Cavendish,  a  naval  adventure,  6 
Cawdor  Oastle,  notice  of,  IM 
Celestial  empire,  power  of,  288 
Celtic,  origiit  of  the,  264 
Centage,  per,  when  first  allowBd  tn  Iteg- 

land,  <Hi  borrowed  money,  62 
Ceremonies,  faiappropriate,  at  Bnrtis*ibQ|(- 
ral.  lOO-^how  observed  at  Wftshingtaii'ls 
induction  to  the  presidency.  492 
Chagres,  Ciqitatn  Foster'ft  deathlhet«,  954 
Chamouni,  the  Bxiles  of,  443 


INDKZ. 


lU 


CfaavM  8bite»  cDtraaM  into  Paris  by 

the,  304 
Champ  d«  I&n,  grand  fefttbal  held  there, 

328 
Chanticleer,  H.3L  aloop,  her  voyage,  539 
Chapter,  conduct  of  grebd  masonic,  537 
Charlemagne,  when  crowned,  445 
Character  of  interest  on  money  lent,  72 
Charles  1,  costume  in  the  reign  of,  21 — X*, 

his  fortunes,  313 
ChJeftsins  of  the  Bighlandeis,  their  cha» 

racter,  131 
Children,  natural,  in  France,  31 1 — ^present 

fashion  of  their  clothing,  463 
Chinese  history,  sketch  o^  238--eingul»- 

rities  of  the,  410 
Chippewa,  people  of,  477 
Chtistianity  in  China,  244-'-evidences  o<^ 

574 
Churches,  the  Armenian,  380 
CilUe-christ,  account  of,  137 
Cintia,  funeral  at*  description  of,  39 
CiiclCf  illustrious,  account  of  an,  108 
City  of  Palaces,  439 
Civilization,  hest  method  of,  277 
Clanudda,  conjectures  regarding,  44 
Clarke,  Dr.  Samuel,  hu  h  priori  argu* 

ments,  176 
Cleanliness,  necessity  of  to  health,  463 
Clifton*  Hannah  Hore's  last  residence,  167 
Clinton,  ^  ovemor,  his  letter,  536 
Clothing,  nodes  of,  461 
Club-book,  the  Atlantic,  483 
Coat,  Nelson's,  thread-faare,  10 
Coercion  Billr  opinions  ol^  513 
Coincidences,  cases  of  strange,  150 
Cologne,  celebrated  sbrime  at,  25 
Colonixation,  thoughts  on,  371 
Colnmhos,  the  world  o^  871 
Common  Weal,  what  it  is,  836 
Competitioii'  among   lenders,  how  kept 

down,  73 
Compilation,  must  ^ntain  good  things,  if 

from  good  originals,  199 
Confl8^ratkm,des(nption  of,  432 
Confncius,  his  school  and  doctrines,  241 
Conqueror,  William  tba,  Isshions  in  his 

reign,  11 
Conservatism,  violent  specimen  of,  578 
Conspiracy,  Fxee<^ma8oiiry,  581 
Contiadictions  in  the  description  ofByron*s 

peiaon,  152 
Coombe*s  Principles  of  Physiology,  180 
Cornwall,  mines  of,  34 
Corry  vieak,  an  account  oi,  139 
Costello,  the  river,  565 
Costume,  history  of  British,  10 
CooBtries,  revolutions  in,  33 
Counliea  of  Ireland,  northern  and  south- 
ern compared,  "SIS 
Courant^  the  New  England,  522 
Cowslip  Greeoi  Hannah  More's  residence, 

167 


Crabbe's  life  and  works,  87 

Creation  a  proof  of  an  intelligent  God,  173 

Credufity»  prevalence  of,  llS^in  Scob^ 

land,  218 
Creoles  of  Puerto  Rico,'  their  geaerofeityj 

415 
Crime,  state  of,  in  France,  340 — rarity  of 

flagrant,  in  Puerto  Rico,  416 
Crocoidile,  structure  of  the  egg  of  the,  176 
Cross,  Armenian  veneration  for  the  on* 

ginal,388 
Crown,  power   of  the,   during  Cfaaxle'- 

magne's  reign.  446 
Cruciilzeain  China,  244 
Cruelty,  instance  of,  towards  the  Jews,  60' 
Crusaders,  customs  originating  wHh,  13 
Crusades,  the  theme  they  present,  198 
Crustacea,  phenomena  respecting,  227 ' 
Culloden,  baUle  of,  133 
Cunneraara,  boys  of,  516 
Cnnning^m,  lus  editions  of  Bums*  works!, 

87  [ 

Cuthbert,  the  venerable  Bedesdi*iple,20l 
Cuvier,  hii  patronage  of  Jacqnemoitt,  351 
Cyclopasdia,  Vr.  lirdner's,  443 

D 

Dainty,  the  ship,  so  christened  by  Queen 

Eliaabeth,  8 
Dalyeirs,  darkersoperstitlons  of  Scotland. 

115 
Dandelion,  comparison  ^th  the,  148 
Darien,  bthmus  of,  655 
Davy,  Sir  Humphrey,  on  senses  of  fishes. 

Dead  of  the  Wreck,  a  tale,  489 
Death-bed,  letter  from  a,  367 
Decency,  breach  of,  558 
Decomposition,  how  it  acts  on  manure,  496 
Defect,   organic,  attributed  to  the  Indo- 

Americans,  272 
Deformity,  its  mystical  character,  126 
Debm,  meaning  of  the  word,  171 
Deity  omnipresceuce  of,  by  R.  Montgomery, 

577 
Delhi,  an  aceount  «f,  360 
Delphi,  the  oracle  of,  208 
Delusion,  practised  by  Pytha^ras,  212 
Demerasa,  paHicnIars  respecting,  253 
Demonology,  King  James'  work  on,  216 
Den,  idols  of  the,  what  is  thus  meant,  171 
Dennie,  sketch  of  his  character,  526 
Depravity,  illustrations  of  social,  259  289, 
Dermis,  what  it  is,  183 
Derrinane,  O'Connell's  house,  569 
Design,  mark  of,  175 
Despondency  of  Bums,  92 
Detraction,  the  baseness  of,  341 
Devotee,  death  of,  a  tale,  ,76 
Digest  of  local  acts  of  thebnetropoUs,  l44 
Dignitary,  an  ecclesiastical,  38  ^ 

Dignity,  how  represented,  492 


IT 


womc 


Diplomfttist,  w)ft>  hito  been  the  mobt  ilhtt^ 

'   triboB  in  France,  320 

Directory,  tbe  metropolitan  eecle»Mtiedl, 

676 
5>ijiCoTeriet  in  Aeift  MinoTi  41 
Diiseovery  of  the  West  Indies,  251 
Diseaae,  acooont  of  a  singular,  45 
Dinsimulatlon,  exemplified,  242 
Divination,  its  etadiee,  207 
Dog,  death  of  a,  488 
Domestic  economy,  pictore  of,  884 
Domestic  Medicine,  Buehm's,  ser^ces  of 

such  works,  181 
Doonside,  where  Bums  was  bom,  88 
Dorneen,  Father,  story  of,  81 
Drake  becpeaks  romantic  iavonr,  5 
Drama,  the  French,  of  the  presentday>  817 
Dreip,  attention  to,  what  it  iBtimales,  11 
DriiikSf  necessity  of,  to  ammals,  466 
Drnry,  Admiral,  bis  conduct  towards  the 
.    Chinese 

Dublin,  compared  with  other  cities,  508 
Damas,  M.  an'  appeal  to,  318 
Dummer*  his  character,  526 
Dunham,  hi»  history  of  the  Gennanie  em- 
pire, 415 
Dutch  Fanners,  account  of  the  Cape,  543 

£ 

Eaqlr,  egg  of  the,  structure  of  the,  174 
£chard's  testimony  as  an  historian^  218 
Eclipse,  curious  mistake  about  an,  409 
Edinburgh,  meeting  of  British  Anoeiatien 

at,  342 
Edward  I.>  notice  of  his  costume,  14 
Effigies,  ancient  monumental,  12 
Effluvia  of  flowers,  its  effects,  459 
Eggs,  compariaoa  between  different,  197 
Egotism,  examples  oC  56d 
Egypt,  said  to  be  the  bisthplace  of  necao- 
■    maiicy,205 

Election  of  priests  iu  Aitaema*  391 
Electoral  dignity  in  Germany,  who  en- 
joyed it,  450 
Elements  found  in  the  French  National 

Assembly,  327 
Elyot,  his  book,  tiamed  the  Govemoar, 

334 
El  Zagal,  hia  conduct,  430 
Emancipation  Bill,  hopes  from,  257 
Emancipation  of  slsvee,  not  mudi  to  be 

dreaded  in  Puerto  Rice,  418 
Embassies,  regulations  for,  to  the  Chinese 
.    emperot»  243 . 

Embrace,  an  account  of  a  last,  366 
Emerald  Isle,  taJe  from  fcbe.  ^7 
Emigrants,  Catholic,  curioua  &ct  regard- 
ing, 514 
Emotions,  a  conflict  of,  353 
Emporiums  of  Eiiropeaoe  in  China,  245 
;  Knchaotment,  cases  of,  123 
Encyclopedists^  small  herds  of,  what  has 
become  of  them,  317 


Englishman,  the  fiwt  whc  mgagedlttlfcfr 

slave  trade,  4 
Engravings  in  OConMl^s  houses  MO 
Enjoyment,  sensitive,  the  gseatpomiiof 

the  brute  cMatiDn,  221 
Ephesus,  establishment  of  a  aebool  at,  SA 
Epidermis,  whaiit  is,  183 
Epigrams  of  Bums,  9% 
Epithets,  appiopriaie,  6 
Epitaphs  by  Bums,  100 
£ia,  liateah  liDve,  flltedaii  inteiniwttata, 

156 
Enroom,  the  city  of,  385 
Escurial,  a  visit  to  the,  40 
Essex.  Countess  of,  a  tragedy,  141 
Establishment,  English  Chooch,  abased, 

282 
Eternity,  what  is  i  eant  by  the  wofd*  177 
Euphrates,  flooding  of  the,  384 
Europe  during  the  middle  agee,  197 
European  aggressions  in  China,  247 
Euxine  Sea,  voyage  to,  money  lent  oii#56 
Evasions  of  laws,  bow  accomplidbed,  64 
Evidences,  the  most  appareiit, 

torted,l70 
Evil  eye,  belief  in  an,  117 

,  on  the  origin  of,  198 

Evils  contemplated  by  usury  law%  70 
Excess  of  exercise,  evils  of,  191 
Exciseman,  Bums  an.  95 
Executrix,  letter  of  Hannah  Moie*a.  165 
Exercise,  necessity  of,  to  heaith»  464 
Exertion,  a  martyr  Uk  192 
Exeter,  Bishop  of;  notice  of,  203 
Existence,   spontaneous,  no  audi  Ihiog* 

175 
Expedition  through  the  Upper 

475 
Experience,  lessons  of,  regudiag 

72 

Extortions  of  the  Chinese,  847 
Eye,  marvellous  conslrnction  of  Umt  224 


FAiRtBS,  the  exodus  of  the,  872 
Falls  of  Foyers,  aooonni  oi,  198 
Falmouth,  notice  of,  33 
Fame,  British,  whence  it  oomes,  2 
Family  Bible  in  Armenia,  391 
Farm-horses,  mode  of  ieeding,  501 
FiBScinatioa  of  an  evil  eye,  illualittlfld,  118 
Fasting,  Armenian  rules  and  dootrines  on, 

387 
Favourite,  why  an  author  faecommsa,  S90 
Federal  constitotion  of  AmericBt  ill  adop- 
tion, 489 
Female  dtess,  errors  in,  189 
Females,  condition  of  Armeman,  392 
Fernando  Noronha,  account  of,.  547 
Fii<ht,  description  of  an  Iim^  516 
Fulling  in  Wales,  tront  and  admon,  467 
Flag,  erection  oi;  at  the  lowce  of  the  liis* 
sissippi,  481  . 


IMPIbX. 


Flattery,  Bpeciroen  of,  332 

Flax-dreiMr,  BniM  a»  »,  91 

FlaDnel,  value  of,  189 

Fleet  marriages, .  hi&tof  y  of,  287 

FUater's  Puerto  Rico,  411 

Floods,  Highland,  account  of,  135 

Food  of  animals,  232 

,  kinds  of,  what  man  bM  a  right  to 

use,  465 

"^W^fcy,  its  early  figure  in  England,  17 

For1>es*,  Professor,  programme,  342 

Foster,  Capt.,  his  voyage,  539 

Fox,  a  friendly  critic,  112 

Francks,  his  authority  on  angling,  468 

.Franklin,  h«i  Qourant  newspaper,  524 

Freed  men,  how  they  obtained  their  free- 
dom, 449 

Fiance,  by  H.  L,  Bulwer,  302 

French  Uteratur^  (;haracter  o^  308 

Friendfibip,  character  of,  341 

Frivolity  of  the  French*  309 ;  of  the  Eng- 
lish women,  316 

Fuegan,  account  of  the  people  of,  542 

Functions  of  life,  223 

Funeral  of  Qarrick,  described,  163 


Galilbo,  anecdote  of,  225 
Gallagher,  his  marriage^  a  tale,  71^ 
Gal.antry,  charaeteristioof  the  French,  307 
Galleys,  nature  of  the  Spanish,  422 
Gait,  literary  lileand  miseeliaaieaof,568 
Gal  way,  boon  companions  at,  663 
Ganges,  remarkable  tree  on  the  banks  of 

the,  432 
Garden,  Botanical,  at  Calcutta,  354 
Garrickr  anecdote  of,  159 
Gases,  usee  of  organic  matter  in  the  shape 

of,  233 
Gate  of  Justiee,  eceiie  in  the,  481 
Gaaette,  meaning  of  the.  word,  521. 
GeneiaUe,  palace  of  the,  429 
Generese  society,  morality  of,  31 
Genius,  dlAcuIty  of  describing  a  maaxyf,  87 
Qtnile  Ari,  the  efiectaof,  468 
.  Geography ,  Indian  ignorance  of;  363 
German  missionariaa  in  Georgia,  390 
Germanic  Empire,  history  of,  445 
•  Germany,  frea-masonry  in,  530 
>  OiitNuliuB,  embassy  of,  to  England,  880 
Glasgow,  legacy  to,  378 
Glengarry,  Chief  of,  anecdote  of,  136 
i-Oienmore,  magnifloenee  of,  130 
Gloucestenhire,!  the  hirth-plaee  of  Hannah 
-     More,  156 

Goblet,  inscription  on  a,  by  Bums,  99 
Godwin's  lives  of  the  NecTomanccrs,  205 
God,  represeataHons  of,  172 
Good-luck,  instance  of,  333 
Government,  Chinese,  regularity  of,  240 
.Grace,  the  Selkirk,  by  Burns,  99 
Graham  of  Hallyards,  anecdote  o^  300 


Grammar  School  in  Armenia,  38^ 
Granada,  description  of  the  city,  427 
Grayling,  what  mxt  id  fiah,  473 
Grecian  usury  laws,  55 
Green  spot,  the  sea^efended,.  2 
Greenville,  Sir  Richard,  last  scene  of  his 

life,  8 
Grey,  Sir  Charlea,  hia  character,  356 
Gridley,  his  newspaper,.  522 
Guerry's  Statistics  of  France,  310 
Guide  to  the  classic  highlands,  132 
jGltttslaff 's  Chinese  history,  238 
Guyana,  belonging  to  Britain,  253 

H 

Hail,  formation  of,  949 
Hair,  when  called  wool,  508 
Hal,  Bluff  King,  notices  of,  18 
Hamlet,  an  admitar  of  Garrick's,  161      ^ 
Hannah  More,  her  life  and  correspondence, 
•155 

Hansard,  his  trout  and  salmon  fishing,  467 
Hanway,  Mrs.,  her  character,  557  * 
Hanwell  extracts,  notice  of,  141  ^ 

Happiness,  search  after,  a  drama,  157    ' 
'  Hard  beginnings,  exemplified,  104 
Hare,  the  wounded,  poem  of,  95 
Hats,  fashion  of,  in  Henry  VH's  reign,  18 
Hawkin's,  Sir  John,  who  he  was,  4 
Health,  preservation  of,  according  to  phy- 
siology, 180 
Heat,  186  < 

Heaven,son  of,  title  of  Chinese  emperor,  289 
Heda,  mortality  in  the,  546 
Hectare,  a  French  measure,  what  it  is,  303 
Heloise,  nuns  not  always  anch.  549 
Henry  VIII.,  his  opinion  of,  the  ^  Gover- 
nor," 335 
Heraldic,  phiases,  melmingof,  10 
Heywood,  statistical  account  by,  849 
^Hiihes,  corioua  nse  oC  542 
Highlands  of  Scotland,  by  Andenoit,  129 
High-priest,  oAce  of,  performed  by  the 

Chinese  emperor,  289 
Himalayan  mountains,  natnial  history  of, 

441 
Hogg's  domestic  manners  4^  ScoMand,  288 

Hondnns,  notiee  of,  260 

Hood,  his  Tylney  hall,  555 

Horses,  an  account  how  fed,  502 

Hospital,  Christy  boys  of,  19 

HopkiM,  the  witdi  £nder,  216 

Host,  chamcter  of  a  hospitable,  87 

Hottentots,  aceoant  of,  544 

House  of  Commons,  unwholeMneneiB  of, 
468 

Houses  undergroond  in  Aimemat  888 

Hugo,  M.  V.  an  appeal  ta,  818 

Humboldt,  Baron,  270 

Husbands,  French,  lesson  to,  80T  ' 

Husbandry,  inHuence  of,  496* 

Hunger,  oallsof;  their opposita  effoett,  233 

Hydaspes,  banks  of  the,  letter  from,  363 

Hygidne,  its  meamng,.4d6 


Tl 


Ibn  Hammed,  his  coadmC  429 
Idolatry,  account  of  singular,  4S2 
lUumioati,  order  ot  590 
Imaginatimijiospblq  efecta  ot,  119 
Impatience,  EDglish,  358 
Implementa,  feniuiig,  499 
Impolicy  of  uauiy  laws,  65 
ImpreanoDs,  how  received  by  the  brain, 

234 
Improridenoe,  how  exemplified'  in  I)ul>> 

lm,a09 
Incantations,  import  of  the  term.  120 
Inconsistencies  of  an  author,  316 
Indemnity,  at  rpapects  borrawed  money, 

74 
India,  letter  fcomi  by  Vlctojr  Jacque- 

mont,  350 
Indian  towns  in  Aimerica,  their  appear- 
ance, 478 
Indo-Am«(ican^  whence  sjprmigi  264 
Indolence,  descdption  of  I  rish,  561 
Inbnticijde  in  New  South  Wales,  401 
In&utry^  captain  o4  in  Indiat  his  state, 

356 
Infinite,  what  is  meant  by  the  word,  176 
Influenee,  Britiish  blessingB  of,  249 
Inglis,  his  journey  through  Ireland,  506 
Ingredients,  simple,  of  superstition,  122 
Inhabitants,  original,  of  the  West  Indies, 

251 
Injnnetions.  Idmcls.of  imperative,  325 
Injustice,  flagnunt,  towards  the  Jews,  60 
Inn,  deaeription  of  a  conntry,  557 
Inquisition,  terrors  of,  an  a&urpi^ce,  550 
Insects,  metamorphoses  oU  22o 
Intelligence,  light  of  modem,  67 
Interest,  enormous  rates  o^  61 
Intoxication  of  fish,  by  W^  Indiaoi^  256 
Intiodiiction,  |part  of  an«  278 
Invocation,  chaxactcr  of,  120 
Ireland,ajoamey  through,  by  H.D.  Inglis, 

506 
Irving,    his  testimony   respecting   Bu- 

ehanao,  295 
Israelites,  necromancers  among  the,  206 
Istwith,  river  of,  472 
Italy,  by  the  author  of  Vathek,  23 
Itasca  lake,  acoQUnt  of,  490 


JAa«UBMOKT's  lettais  iron  India,  350 
Jaaaioa,  magnificent  island  ot,  256 
Jealousy  of  rivals  chargeable  against  the 

isadical  pMtaion>  376 
Jesuits,  nussioM  of  the,  into  Armenia,  386 
Jewish  usury  laws,  54 
Joan  of  Alt,  notice  of,  215 
John,  King,  instance  of  his  cruelty,  61 
Johnston,  8«r  Alexander,  his  patronage  of 

Jaequemont,  351 
Jeke,  sadous  iatcspif  totio«  of  a,  406 


Jones,  Sir  WKliaRi, 

354 
Joy,  the  last  word  uttered  by  HauBab 

More,  168 
Jurisprudencat  Roman,  elemeata,o4  57 


KAKOAROO-HuiffTiNe,  descriptioaoC  404 

Kaia-koolah»  vUlage  of,  382 

Keith,  river  of,  471     , 

Kemble,  Miss,  poem  by,  .484 

Kenriek's   introduction    to    Greek  prase 

composition,  290 
Kepler,  his  opinion  of  N^ier*s  geniua,203 
Kilglaas,  oonduot  of  the  rector  o!^  515 
Kilgoor,  his  Lectures,  454 — ^his  style  di^ 

fuse,  455 
Kilkenny,  misery  at,  511 
Kiuig  Bungaiee,  anecdote  eif,  405 
King,  (iariiet,  her  Metrical  fixemssa,  44d 
Kingston,  Duchess  of,  her  teial,  161 
Kirtles,  description  of,  21 
Kitty  of  Yas,  account  oi;  402 
Knots,  marriage,  their  moaning,  125 
Kobek,  notice  of,  45 
Koola,  notice  of  the  town,  43 
Kyriacos,  letter  by,  45 


LACHi.tlf  Murray,  aioiy  of,  n  tals,  85 
Labour,  subdiviaion  o^  358 
Ladies,  an  admiiier  of  the,  4L7 
Lafayette,  his  fortunes.  313 
Lahore,  receptioa  at,  362 
Lake  Sujperior,  aoc^nt  oL  477 
Landloro,  character  of  an  Irish,  512 
Landscapflh  Annual,  reviei^  ot,  4^ 
Lang's  SCgratioos  of  theP«4ync«iaaNatioa, 
.264 

Ludner's  Cyclopsedia,  197 
Laws,  riTablishodj  thtiMps  in,  ^3^^-na* 

jesty  of  the,  535 
Lawyers,  tb^  original  description*  i5    • 
Lecture  days,  meaning  of  the  ptuasn  la 

America,  520 
Lenders  of  money,  i^jories  inflietod  oau  74 
liberator,  character  oC  O'Connall  tbf,  514 
libertinage  in  France.  308 
Library,  notice  of  the* »  pqem.  108 

Life,  )oV,   a  field  for  poetry,  113-^ 

functions  ot,  W^    QomparatiTn  pcxiods 

oC457 
light,  influence  oC  on  a nimals,  458-- bow 

it  stimolaies  the  eyc^  45&r^pts^iMiiom 

ot  deaths  in  d^^kneas  and  light,  459    * 
Limits  to  pledges,  as  stated  by  TalJey* 

rand,  324 
linoolnshiie,  fens  oC  notice  oC  200 
lindsey's  stqry  of  GromwelL  217 
Lisbon,  description  of,  34 
lisoore.  Caihedr^  at,  572 
literature,  account  of  the  [periodica},  in 

Ameiipa,  519 


^; 


ITfDISX. 


ni 


Leo  III.,  Fope,  ctowwB  Cbarlemagne,  445 

Lethargy  of  the  Chinese,  241 

Letten,  speech  oT  a  man  of,  iq  (he  Cham- 

ber  of  Deputies,  314 
Loans,  are  they  necessarily  grataitoos  P  68 
Locherby,  Lsdy  of,  anecdote  of  the,  300 
Lochiel,  Chief  of»  anecdote  of,  136 
Isagan,  Hajor,  epistle  by  Bums  to,  97 
Logarithms,  Uie  hirentkm  of,  292 
Lomond,  Loch,  account  of,  189 
Longmire,  remains  of,  fi76 
Lote,  example  of  conjugal,  494 
Low,  his  Elements  of  Practical  Agricul- 
ture, 495 
Lungs,  bow  they  are  affected,  186 
Luther,  notice  of  his  credulity,  215 

M 

Madbi&a,  appearance  of,  from  sea,  397 
H achinery ,  great  advantages  of,  500 
Magicians,  celebrated  English,  215 
Magistrates,  trading,  515 
M^ogany  tree,  mode  of  discotering,  260 
Malays,  resembtod  by  whomP  .965 
Maloomlon,  his  manufikctory,  511 
Maledictions,  import  of  the  term,  120 
Malwadding,  story  of  Mrs.,  150 
Mammalia,   the  highest  of  vertebrated 

animals,230 
Man,  Ins  natoral  disposition,  453— 4b  cha- 
racter, how  raiious!  553 
Mankind,  the  strong  and  weak  of,  207 
Manu&otures,  increase  of,  in  Fiance,  812 
Manumission,  its  meaning;  447 
Maps,  inaccuracy  of,  479 
Maranham,  people  of,  their  manners,  548 
MarialYBs,  the  -patriarph  of  the,  36 
Maria,  Donna,  character  of  the  first,  37 
Marriage,  consequences  of  ill  assorted,  80— 

symbols  interchanged  at,  124 
Mhiiilfshiitory  ofthe  British  colonies,  250 
Martins,  Dr.  Van,  his  opinions,  272 
Msityrs,  church  \>f,  dead  mass  bX,  39 
Masonry,  Free,  account  of,  529 
Master  Mason,  his  oath,  533 
Mather,  tbj^  offence  he  takes,  525 
Maturity,  early,  of  women,  417 
Maurice,  citizen,  who  he  was,  331 
Measures,  peremptory,  358 
Macao,  particnlais  respecting,  407 
Meehioiical  ibnctiom  of  life,  224 
Medalle.  Mis.,  a  literary  anecdote,  158 
Medical  profession,  education  of  the,  375 
Medicines,  Indian  idolatry  regarding,  183 
Medicii,  Venus  de,  admiration  of,  29 
Medullary  substance,  particulars  respeet- 

ing,234   . 
Medwin's  Angler  in  Wa!es,  145 
Melville,  James,  his  testimony  respecting 

Buchanan,  296 
Mendicity  Society,  account  of,  in  DubliUt 

509 
Mental  education,  improvement  of,  182 


Mercenaries  in  Germany,  who  tkoy  wave, 

452 
Merehiston,  Napier  of,  memoirs  of,  291 
Meikle.  Ins  invention  of  the   thkadung 

machine,  499 
Miller's  Oardener's  Dictionary,  notice  of, 

288 
Millions,  thirty,   have  been  dragged  as 

slaves  to  the  West  Indies,' 252 
Mirabeau,  letter  o^  321 
Misrepresentation,  instance  of,  567 
Missionaries,  pUlantfaropby  of,  545 
Mississippi,  river  ci,  475 
MiflBOOri,  river  of,  476 
Mittenwald,  observations  at,  27 
Modemtioii,  men  of,  on'tbe  increase  in  Loe* 

land  of,  515 
Modem  history,  ^kt  most  extrao^vfinary 

period  of,  319 
Modesv  ficdtions,  of  eVnding  usury  laws 

65 
Modinaa,  firaaihaa,  beauty  of,  38 
MoUusca,  functions  of,  226 
Monedo»  meaning  of,  among  Indians,  483 
Monopoly  in  favour  tif  the  rich,  73 
Monopolies,  to  be  reprobated,  263 
Monte  Video,  account  of,  541 
Moore,  anecdote  of,  149 
Moors,  when  expelled  from  Europe,  428  ' 
Morality  of  lending  or  borrowing  mojie^ 

on  interest,  66 
Morayshire,  floods  in,  135 
More,  Sir  Thos.,  his  intiinacy  with  Elyot;; 

335 
Morgan,  his  seduction  and  murder,  532^ 
Morrison's,  pr«,  Chinese  works,  245  ! 

Mortality,  London  bills,  their  result,  13^  [ 
Mortmains,  when  prohibited  in  IVance, 

326 
Mosaic  usury  lavi*  54  , 

Montague,  Lad3^  Mary  Wortley,  her  pa- 
triotism, 457 
Motion,  organt  of  vdluntairy,  221 
Mountains,  the  Himalayan,  434 
Moyle,  story  of  father,  77 
Moyse,  David,  his  journal,  299 
Muley  Ibn  Hassan,  his  conduct,  427 
Mummeries,  all  religions  charged  with^ 

149 
Muscular  system,  functions  of,  190 
Music,  necessary  accomplishment  for  the 

noble,  338 
Muston,  the  living  of,  given  iatSrfJtXts, 

109 
Mutation,  perpetual,  a  law  of  life,  229 
Mythological  era  in  Chinese  history,  242 

N 

Napibr,  Lord,  memoirs  of,  291 
Napoleon,  his  grave,  545 
National  Assembly,  how  embarrasfced,  327 
Natural  religion  applied  to  nsuf  y,  68 
Naval  history  of  England,  by  Sfmthey,  \ 


•  •• 

Vlll 


INDEX. 


NecMsidades,  conveatof  tlie,  35 

Necromancers,  lives  of,  205 

Ned,  Recklefls,  story  of ,  83 

Needle  and  thread,  how  iised>  543         ^ 

Nerves,  disiribution  of  the,  187  ^ 

NervMBsystein,  Walker  on  (he»  375    ' 

New  Englanders,  traits  of  character  of  the 

earlier,  488 
New  Soirth  Wales,  iranderings  in,  896 
Newspaper,  account  of  the  first  ia  Ameri- 
ca, 521 
New  Testament,  lolaiion  of  a  tmsmm^  in, 

51 
New-year*s-day,  an  injunction  for,  494  > 
New  York,  account  of,  487 
Nithsdale,  Bums  a  fsfiner  on,  94 
Nobles,  submission  of,  446    * 
Noor  Jehan,  accbant  of,  437 
North  American  Review,  acoovwi  of»  519 

,  Kit,  hir  etaa^p  of  anglers^  564      ^^ 

,  Lord,  Crabbe  writes  to,  105 

Northumberland,  Earl  of,  chivalrous  ad- 
venturer,'3    «    ■    • 
Novel,  characteristics  of  a  good^  555 
Nuns,  account  of,  at  Mareiibam;  569 
Nurses,  ytoper  fbr  those  that  are  aoMto 

born,  338 
Nutrition,  materials  of,  221  - 

0 

Oaths,  sacredneas  of,  531 

Objects,  how  s^en  by  different  persons,  556 

Ocean,  phosphoric  light  of  the,  described, 

398 
O'Gonnell,  interview  with,  568 
October  in  America,  484  , 
Oda,  ^e  description  of  an,  43 
O^pring,  love  for,  affectin^^y  shewn,  401 
Old-Sian,  ta  what  aplpied  in  New  South 

Wales.  404 
Omens,- how  int^preted,  20/ 
Oormiah,  Nestorians  in  the  vale  of,  391 
Opera,  misgivings  at  th|^  100 
Oracles  of  God,  translated  into  Chinese,  244 
Order,  necessity  for  degrees  in,  33/ 
OrgBiusation,  infringement  of  laws  of,  195 
«-4implest  form  of,  225 
Oriental  Annual,  review  of,  423 
Original  discovery  of  America,  2/3 
Orkney,  letter  from  the  Bishop  of,  297     • 
Ornaments  worn  in  New  South  Wales,  402 
O'Shaughnessy,  his  hooks  and  flies,  5C2 
Ostentation,  how  illustrated  in  Dublin,  5(d 
Otter  hunt,  story  of  an.  151 
Outeaat,  story  of  an,  82  . 

Ox-carts,  description  of,  3S3     <  ^    ' 

Oxford,  memorials  of,  575 


Padua,  feeling!^  on  approaching,  29 
Palmerston,  hie  character  as  a  landlord, 

517 
Panther  fightt^count  of,  487    ' 
^pal  Armen^ns,  case  of,  381  • 


Para,  city  of,  its  description,  550- 
Paradise,  Wrd  of,  its  beauty,  &C.,  408 
Parent,  stern,  exemplified.  109' 
Paris,  Mathew,  what  he  sayi,  12 
Parish  register, .&  poem, -ttoCiee  bH'  tt^ 
Parliament^  letters  to  a  lAeial^  of,  578 
Partition  of  property .  tiie  effeete  0f,  4S0 
Party  spirit,  how  it  operatesin  f  reltod.  567 
Patriarchal  see,  origin  of  th^Atmeiuao, 

at  Consfcaniinople,  380  *         ■ 
Patron,  Bnrke,  a  true,  107   '  '      ■" 
Pea^ntry  of  Scotland,  their  sk!hoola,  89  • 
Peasantry,  Irish;  their  chatacter,  561 
Pelisses,  whence  their  name,  13 
Pembroke,  eoonteas  of,  who  she  was,  4 
Penalties,  book  of,  143 
Penance,  acts  of,  435 
Pendulum,  account  of,  540 
Perception,  probes^es  in,  239    ■ 
Perigord,  I'Abb^,  Who  he  Wa^SW 
Perspiration  on,  184 
Pestilence,  prevalence  bf  a,  in  Scedliind, 

297  -  • 

Peter's,^  St.,  fresh  appennaiice,  80  "  : 
Phenomena  of  sensation,  wonderfa),  286  ' 
Philanthropists,  joy  as  well  as  sorrow  for, 

252 
Philosoplty,  the  handmaiden  of  trotb,  t97 
Philtres,  the  use  of,  123 
Phrases,  particular,  tised  by  Soafh'Sea  la- 
landers,  267  ^ 
physiognomy,  resemblanoeft  of,  269 
Pictorial  embellishmenta  in  the  Annuals, 

character  of,  425 
Pinel,  his  observations  on  over  ozeKion, 

192 
Pines,  where  they  pievMly  480 
Pisa,  Byron  at)  153 
Pisidia,  Antioch  of,  high  name  of,  51 
Pitt.  Mr.  his  sagacity,  330 
Plagiarism  charged    against   3ir  -CaMrlei 

Bell,  378 
Planters,  sacrifices  by  West  Indian,  263 
Plasse,  Vender,  notice  of  Ma«,  ^ 
Pledges,  question  of,  3S4.  • 
PI  umatus,  character  of  thi^,  415  - 
Plurality  pf  wives,  254      . 
Poet,  education  of  BuraB,4^  89 
Politeness,  a  charaotenatie  of  the  French, 

306 
Polygamy  in  New  Sooth  Wales^  402 
Polytheism,    reigA  of,  ^barecteriatica  of, 

214  '"'-''       •  . 

Polynesian  nation,rmigii|tions  of,  26  i 
Poor  freemen,  Who^ey  ««re,  453 
Poor  laws,  necessity  of,  for-lrelandT  565  • 
Popular  Encyclopsdia,  oot^  01^-286 
Porto  Belioj  jiccount  oi,  552  . 
Portugat,  peat  and  pi«seni  atato  <^,  35 
Portuguese  man-of-war,  aeeoimtoC  397 
Posttofflees,  n\iml^rH0f^:in'AoiQnoa*5i23 
Potheen  drinkers,  ;;irein%lcince  of,  516 
Pondicherry^  hat,  i|«ea  4>f  a>.  359 


IKDXX. 


It 


Poulterer,  tbe  kiiig%  bow  conaiBcAed,  299 
Power  of  Uie  Briiiib  in  Indie,  moral,  366 
Practical  agrienUare,  elemeats  of,  495 
Precepte,  when  uiefuU  ^5 
Precocity,  inetanee  of,  157 
Preface,  eyeiiiaQeii  of  fc  278 
Prejudice,  how  it  acti  in  England  and 

Fnnce,315 
PresidentB,  ▲merican,  tbeir  title,  491 
Prettdenciei,  reveaaea  of  tbe  ISaet  Indian, 

361  V. 

Prieetiiood,  ignorance,  of  Armenian,  387 
Priflon  discipline  of  Stxiin  reprobated,  422 
Prieobere  at  tbe  crown,  Condition  of,  in 

iiew  South  Wales,  400 
Production,  the  law  of  indefinite,  222 
Profligate,  etory  of  a,^ 
Proqf,  a  Word  cuBtinet  from  emdenee,  377 
Pr<Qibeteaae8,  Scotti4w  gift  of  tbe,  127 
Preponenioo  towards  &  great,  114 
Proselytisnm  eft>rta  of,  80 
Prosperity  of  Puerto  Bico,.412 
Prosperity,  bow  connected   with  ^  agii- 

cult«re,497 
Protestantism  in  China,   244 — influence 

of,  518 
Prudential  committee  of  tbe  American 

Board  of  Mwionaries,  380 
Public  weaUw^Mt it  is,  336 
Publicatioos,  American  periodical,  528 
Puerto  Bko,  by  Colbhel  FUnter,  411 


QuAK«nft,  what  tbey  are  in  Ireland,  562 
Queen  BlUabetb,  her  manner  of  describ- 
ing her  letteie,  486 
Querey,  ^  eovereignty  ci^  by  whom  en- 
joyed, 330 


RabuT)  ficcount  of  the,  504 
Bae*s  K»li^c«l  economy,  444 
B9(in,  ffonuation  of,  349 
RamMe.'an  BngliihmanV  through  Con- 
'  naughty  fWd  Iffmster,  5Ck)     - 
Bancour,  m^dn^M  of  religions,  283  ' 
Ranks,  tb^  lowest,  of  vertebrated   ani- 
mals, 200 
Reasons  for  taking  interest  on  money 

lent,  69 
Reception,  wooft  of  a  kind,  108 
Recoilectioop,  deelaiation  of,  359 
Reform  BD1,  an^isripated  reanlts  of,  315 
Regimentol  anefdc^e«  284 
Regions,  Spiiniib,  romantic,  425 
Reid,  his  work  on  Freemasons,  529 
Relations  between  Ohin«and  England,  249 
RbUgion,  wukt  of,  to  be  deplored,  868 
Reqiorse,  stpnn  of,  described,  77 
Remue'sAlphabet  of  Natural 'Iheology,169 
Repeal,  question  of  the,  of  usury  laws,  71 
Repentance,  the  name  of  a  ship,  7 
Reproductive  functions,  236 

wu,  iH.  (1834.)  -     •  - 


Rescue,  it  may  be  brought  home  to  the 

Armenians,  395 
Respublica,  meaning  of  the  word,  386 
Resolution,  carrying  of  an  important,  323 
Rerelation,  the  best  light  to  man,  237 
Rheldol,  rirer  of,  472 
Rhine,  the  borders  of  the,  25 
Rhyme,  Seotch,  regarding  the  Enif^ish,  16 
Richard  Hawkins,  Sir,  anecdotes  of,  7 
Bights  of  borrowers  and  lenden,  69 
Ring,  marriage,  its  meaning,  125 
Rio  Janeiro,  account  of,  541 
Rivals,  Sheridan*s,  patoonised  by  Hannah 

More,  159 
Rivers,  admiration  of,  476 
Rogers,  anecdote  of,  147 
Roget's  Bridgewater  IVeetise,  219 
Roman  usury  laws,  56 
Romances,  Cmbbe,  a  writer  of,  111 
Rome,  first  sight  of,  30 
Round-heads,  costume  of,  22 
Rountree,  a  charm  against  evil,  118 
Rungeel  Sing,  notice-  of,   361— munifi- 
cence of,  363 

Russian  Gonrta  of  ArmeniSy  389 
Rustic  population,  how  benefited  in  Ger- 
many, 452 
Rutland,  Duke  of.  Chaplain  to,  109 

S. 

3ABaAi)i,  observation  o(  564 

Sacrifices, -propitiatory,  122 

Salmon,  their  habits,  469-^their  spawn, 

470— their  leaps,  471 
Sandwich   Islanaers*  name  for  England, 

267 
Satan,  hia  ^-arieus  appearances,  128 
Saul,  a  youiig  English  gentleman,  279 
Savage,  attadiment  of  a,,  how  rewarded, 

403   . 
Scalps,  exhibition  of,  at  a  dance,  479 
Schoolcraft,  his  work  on  the  Upper  Mis- 
sissippi, 475 
/Schoolmasters,  their  ignorance  assailed, 

340 
Scholar,  ardent,  story  of  an,  81  • 

Scott,  Dean,  hb  character,  572 
Scott's  workb,  ^ood  resulting  from,  130 
Scotch,  their   method,  -of  feeding   ifarm 

horBes,501 
Scotchwoman,  conversation  of  a,  558 
Scotland,  land-mark  of  learning  in,  ^4 
Sculpture  'and  painting  recomnxoided,  339 
Sea  of  adventure,  an  embarkation  on  the, 

104 
Season  for  mental  exertion,  193 
Seasons,  anatomy  of  the,  by  P.  Muiphy, 

577 
Secpnd  sight,  illustrations  of,  126    . 
Secrets,  masonic,  divulged,  53^ 
Seguin,  1^  Jus  experiments,  185 
Selfishness  attributed  to  the  English  V 

the  French,  352  .      .- 


IMJWU 


Smaorial  XimQtwwy  X9 ' 

SentimenU  Teel,  and  <IqvmA  MiMH^  MA 

SexyUo*  deici^|4i«9  fti,  Mi.  . 

SiHHL  i/ko  they  JBaDC»HMir44MiidiliBii«  Aitt 

SertBntay  unieaabnaUp  IwilN^iViiiiii;  uMb 
194 

Sexes,  joftiieoce  oC.  ia  |r,«A«W'3U 
Sheep,  wool  d^  :50ii 
Sigkmuad,  hit  »m»fii^4^ 

tUeat  li|de,  Iaya  si  .Ihe  wl^ '%  '^^ 
niery'sllote  of  Cashmere,  44d 
SilUniee,  deaer -pti^E  of  ib««  433 
Simile,  striking  sj^jiHcetiQ*^  «,  MS 
Sinfala^  of  AttUof  noMir  on  huqp,  58 
Skeletons  of  TertelmtiidwiiakaK  390 
Skin,  alwicme  yd  lunctioa;  joi  Umu  l^^ 
Slander,  fabricatio^i  ci,  165 
Slave-trade  of  6p^  jdrai«n^  412 
Slavei^  how  ze^noad  to  bctncUge  4vudqf 

Chitf> ifwyie^  -wypir-thei^  c^odiliMb 

446 
Smith  and  IMshliaJiiMionnar  BMOwrclut 

.  in  Annenia,,^70    • 
Snakes  in  New  South  Wales,  40|B 
Soap,  impolkic  ^Kp  on,  464 
Socwty  in  Paertb  Hico,  4l3 
Socntes,  4io(  exenjit  from  snpentitJons, 

213 
Sorcery,  pmu4inKeul'of,  129— prevalenco 

of;.aa9        .,   . 

Source  of  all  languages,  284 

Southey,  his  Naval  History  of  England,  1 

Sou^  Sea  islandefSr-  Whtnce  they  w^ro 

deriTod»264- 
Spanish  colonial  law  pnjsed,  419 
Spawning,  ptxess  of  salmon,  4jS9 
Speetade,  aecmuttxif  a,  42. 
Speech,  parts  of,  -h\  g^amm^r-^ 
Spiden,  Ihe  functions  of,  227 
Spines,  why  crooked  in  so  man^ladies,  462 
&>ittle,  virtue  of,  121 
Sportgmen,  ftays  and  nights  of,  1S4 
Spread  of  BiUes,  how  dreaded,  281 
Spirituality,  whaSian^eant  by  the  woid,l77 
StaoJ^y,  Mr.,  hM  diarKt^r  a*  m  Irifdi 

'  laoffloid*  519 
Ststes-Cknml,  when  8mnnioB«4»  322 
Statutes  at  large,  wide  waste  of,  144 
St(yi,13ieiriniunDi|s  ^flfecti,  462 
St.  C^iB,  car  of,  how  drawn,  490 
Stewan,Divald,  letter  of,  93 
Stevelly,  Profeoor,  his  paper  on  meteoro- 
logy, 348 
Stone,  hii  tales  and  iketdies,  483 
Blonehouse,  Sir  James,  his  assistance  to 

Hannah  Hon,  166 
Stork,  c|g  of  the,  structure  of  the,  174 
Storm,  description  of  a,  96 
Stisw,  marvellous  irtructnre  of  |^  '225 
9lreet,name  of  a,  changed  in  one  ni|^t,934* 
Slohb,  his  opinion  of  starch,  20 


Sui<si4»>  aBiJi.hr  BuMr  iOO 
Snleimaa,  ruinawi^.jU  - 
Sunday,  angling  «>•  67ft   - 
Supernatural,  jvmghti  .of  iflia,  how  »- 

duoadt  in 
Sway,  benefit  of  the  Engliihm  laiia,  t^ 

Sydnir«_ 
Sywapithyjaod 

cable,  119 


Tabsui ACLB,  Isacy  io>effeot  oao,  ftl 

Tacitus,  his  aotharily^m  usury  laiws,  07 

Talent  sve  dond  itf,  £56 

Tales  of  Ireland,  Tft  ' 

Tales  end  Sket^es,  reviMir  tf,  463 

Tarn  OCShanter,oecasiBn  ofivrilmg,  96 

T^aOon,  iUMtra<iDDa  o(  JB6 

Tea-room,  deaeripliaa  of,-fi6 

Tehris,  bad  jfcaaMlfcr  rf'ttie  ptqpie  ol^ 

8t2 
Temples,  form  of  Indo-AmeHoan  iott^ea. 

Territorial  princes  in  Geimaoy,  mh^  ftey 

•wene,  450 
Terry  Alts,  an  JnoJewsiiw 
Tests  respeoting  the  Fbl^ 

269 
lliamai,  entranee  iotlh  LOAdon  by  tke, 

304 
Theology,  natural,  bj  Jamea  Rennie,.  169 
Theolq»,  meaning  of  the  word,  191 
IheopSlufi  leafiopa  tPiintngling,  474 
Theory  and  piactice,  how  fOM^eted.  ^45 
Theory,  diOknlUm^  tePV  ^  a»40a- 

cultural,  497 
Theory,  inatance  of  unsatisfacloffy,  567 
Xher^peutios  and  Hyglinoy  |ectaieaon>454 
Thomas,  SL,  ia  China,  843 
Thundeypstorm  deaarintim  U,  434    . 
Thurlow,  Chancellor,  Ciahbe  writes  to,  105 
TSc^^ouloiucML,  Cr^bbe  a  martyr  to,  115 
Udes,  observalioBs  of  the  rfunmittaf  on, 

346 
Tiger,  name  of  j^ron's  bnll-dop  146 
Titles,  order  of  in  Germany,  451 
Titles,  howpropoaedfor  the  AmericaBpss- 

sideuts,  491 
Tongues,  the  rsttife  of,  aanUs  the  punaal, 

166 
Torpedo,  conatruction  of  the,  280 
Touch,  cure  by  the,  121 
Trade-windi,  of  the,  267 
Travelleai,  claaaea  of,  94 
%wreUing,  aaftty  tit,  6ar  stBU^pn  in  Iso- 

land,  571 
Trinidad,  jootace  of,  ^268 
■Maided,  island  of,  561 
l^pical  gaidena  belm^ti^  to  Iftnjiami, 

262- 
Trolling,  compaiod  wiihMymB^bin9,U7 
trvths  taught  by  Oemvailiistoiy,  445 


INDS^. 


XI 


Tufter  Jung,  tomb  of,  at  Delhi,  438         l 
Tqrnip-fly,  report  on  the,  143 
I'ylney  Hall,  a  noTel,  555 
Tymms'  Family  Tojwgmpher,  290 
Tyranny,    exemplified    by  .a   Catholic 
priest^  514 

y 

Ugly,  inapplioableWrm  to  natnial  scene  • 

iy,562 
Union,  repeal  of  the,  how  to  be  effected, 

570 
Usury  Laws,  committee  of  the  House  of 

Commons  on  ttie,  53 

V 

Val|,by,  description  of  a,  433 

Valpy,  his  edition  of  tha  History  of  Eog- 

land»  575 
Vanity  of  the  Rrencb,  309 

attributed  to  0*Conn«U,  570 

Vaitabeds,  who  they  are  in  Armenia,  392 
Vathek,  the  author  of,  his  sketches,  23 
Venetians,  dasoiption  of  the,  28 
Vertebiated  animals,  228 
Vision,  of  the  organ  of,  236 
Vital  functions,  231 
Vivacity,  spaeimens  ot  2$ 
Vivified,  sumon  spawn  when,  470 
Vixen,  story  of  the  dog,  151 
Voltaire,  spirit  of  his  toleration,  82 
Voyages  and  travels,  how  they  attiact, 

540 

W 

Walks,  trout  and  salmon  filling  in,  467 
Walker  on  the  nervous  system^  975 
Wateil<»rd,  caHkoHc  hvHtution  at,  510 
Waterloo,   the  Armageddon  of   the  old 
.  world,  S72 
.WaU,  the  b«Mefiti  of  hk  ateam  invention, 

457 
Wealtli  of  NbitiMi^,  doctrine  in  the,  70 


Wealth,  respectability  of,  486 

Webster,  his  narrative  of  the  Chanticleer's 

voyage,  539 
West  Indies,  knowledge  of  tbev;'411 
Whewell.Rcv.  W.,  Exposition,  813 
White  men  within  the  tropics,  the  most 

profitable  servants,  421 
lil^ckham  Brooks,  Crabbe  apprenticed  at, 

103 
Wicklow,  stale  of  the  peasantry  at,  510 
Wilfrid,  St,  notice  of  him,  200 
Will  o'  wisp  meteors,  tiieir  Influenctf,  91 
Wilson^  reasonableness  of  Christianity,  41 
Wisdom,  pieces  of,  969 
Wit,  as  exemplified  in  Fleets  RehearsaJ, 

525 
Witched,  hideous,  in  Cashmere,  365 
Witchcraft,  doctrine  of,  209 
W4>oden  cross,  noticeof  its  power,  7 
Woodford,  Sir  Rali^,  anecdote  of,  551 
Wool,  an  account  of,  008 
Woman,  infiuence  of  in  France,  315 
Works,  amasing  niagnitttde  and  iramber 

of,  369 
WonSiip,  difiersncM  in  forms  of,  886 
Wrestling  recommended  as  an  exeT<;ise, 

340 
Wright's  aural  surgery,  444 
Wye,  river  of.  478 
Wynn,  Hr.,  Us  character  m  a  landlord,  517 

X 

^ 

XiYARO,  his  habits  and  appearance,  416 

y 

Yalabats,  Ae'Mte  oTi  great  city,  48 
York,  Archbishop  of,  notice  of,  203 

Z 

Zbunb^.  her  conttaner,  481 
Zodphy  tes^  fiintftioni  of,  226 


J.  RtKDBXSOir,  PRIKTBB, 
'    WBITS-FmiAnS. 


> 


^•* 


'^ 


I  '  t' 


*-r-^«^     .tnw.ii 


T 


' 


•Vfcl-T" 


•W 


•••-         IJ  /  -»