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 VIII. 
 
 JANUARY TO OCTOBER, 1824. 
 
 (i Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever thing* 
 are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever 
 things are of good report.” 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 THE REV. WILLIAM BENGO’ COLLYER, D.D. 
 
 LL.D. F.A.S. 
 
 THE REV. THOMAS RAFFLES, LL.D. 
 
 (of LIVERPOOL,) 
 
 AND 
 
 JAMES BALDWIN BROWN, ESQ. LL.D. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed at the Caxton Press, by Henry Fisher . 
 
 PUBLISHED BY THOMAS AND GEORGE UNDERWOOD, 32 , FLEET-STREET; 
 OGLE, DUNCAN, AND CO., AND SHERWOOD AND CO., PATERNOS¬ 
 TER-ROW; BLACK, KINGSBURY, PARBURY, AND ALLEN, LEADEN- 
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 st. Paul's church-yard; waugh and innes, Edinburgh; wood, 
 
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 BELFAST. 
 
 1824. 
 

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PREFACE. 
 
 After making trial for a twelvemouth of the practicability 
 of conducting their Journal on a reduced scale, without an 
 undue interference with the rapid increase of their profes¬ 
 sional and private engagements, the Editors of the Investi¬ 
 gator, at the close of the eighteenth number, and Eighth 
 Volume of their work, are reluctantly, but imperatively, 
 compelled to say, “ Here our labours terminate.” Their 
 wish would have been to proceed, but the great inconveni¬ 
 ence of superintending a periodical work through the press, 
 whilst hastily removing from place to place, at a distance of 
 two hundred miles from home, and in the midst of the bustle 
 and complexity of the business which regularly calls him 
 thence, has rendered it impossible for the final Editor longer 
 to continue at a post, from which his colleagues have as 
 little leisure to relieve him. With sincere thanks, therefore, 
 to their friends and contributors, for the support they have 
 experienced for the last five years—and with the hope, that 
 in a period in which splendid talents have been shamelessly 
 prostituted to the cause of vice and irreligion, their efforts 
 to counteract its pestilential influence have not been alto¬ 
 gether in vain—in that editorial capacity, which has but 
 more strongly cemented the ties of an early and most inti¬ 
 mate friendship, they bid their readers an unwilling, yet a 
 final adieu; referring them for a continuation of several of 
 the articles commenced in this work, to the Philomathic 
 Journal, a quarterly publication, edited at an institution, of 
 which they are all honorary members, and over which one of 
 them presides. Where their wishes or recommendation can 
 have any weight, that journal will succeed, on the shelves of 
 their subscribers, the one they now abandon. 
 
 September 24, 1824. 
 

 
 
 
 . -v « 
 
 ‘ 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 ♦ 
 
 BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 Memoir of Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles, Knt., 
 
 F.R. and A.S., Lieut.-Governor of Bencoolen, &c. 
 
 &c. &c. - - - - - - 
 
 ESSAYS, &c. 
 
 The History of Ethics; a Lecture delivered at the Surrey 
 and Philomathic] Institutions. By the Reverend 
 William Bengo’ Collyer, D.D. LL.D. F.A.S. - 4 
 
 On the Results of Art, as connected with the Happiness 
 
 of the Human Race - - - r _ 20 
 
 The Mischievous Effects of Gaming; a Charge delivered 
 to the Grand Jury of the County of Berks, in the 
 
 _ •• *i. ' • i 1 * . - l * * - w • 
 
 State of Pennsylvania. By the Hon. Jacob Rush, 
 
 President of the Third District of the Courts of Com¬ 
 mon Pleas and Quarter Session for the State of 
 Pennsylvania - - - - - - - - _ 3^5 
 
 Museum Hours. No. I. Reading-Rooms of the British 
 Museum—their Regulations and Attendants—His¬ 
 tory, Condition, and Contents of the Cottonian 
 Library of Manuscripts - _ - _ _ 43 
 
 Account of the Death, and a List of the Works, of the 
 R.ev. Edward Williams, D.D.; late Theological 
 Tutor of the Independent College, Rotherham. The 
 former contained in Letter from a Friend to a near 
 Relative of the deceased 
 
 PAGE 
 
 1 
 
 57 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 REVIEW. 
 
 State of New-England and New-York. 
 
 1. Travels in New-England and New-York, By Timothy 
 
 Dwight, S.T.D. LL.D. late President of Yale 
 College - -- - - - - - 61 
 
 2. Memorable Days in America; being’ a Journal of a 
 
 Tour to the United States, principally undertaken to 
 ascertain, by positive evidence, the condition and 
 probable prospects of British Emigrants, &c. By 
 W. Faux, an English Farmer - - - ib. 
 
 A New Method of acquiring the Reading of Hebrew, 
 with Vowel Points. By an Experienced Teacher 
 of Oriental Languages - - - - - -126 
 
 A New Method of acquiring the Reading of Syriac with 
 
 Vowel Points. By the same Author ib. 
 
 A New Method of acquiring the Reading of Arabic with 
 
 Vowel Points. By the same Author ... ib. 
 
 POETRY. 
 
 Affliction.- - - - -128 
 
 Earthly and Heavenly Hopes - - - - - 129 
 
 The Advice of Nushirewan to his Son Hormuz, just before 
 
 his Death. Erom the Persian of Sadi - 130 
 
 The Susceptible Mind ------- ib. 
 
 Life - --------- ib. 
 
arije LsiUrsitttfAtor. 
 
 JANUARY, 182.4. 
 
 Memoir of Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles, Knt., F.R. 
 and A.S., Lieut.-Governor of Bencoolen,fyc.fyc. ftc. 
 
 Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles was bom on board 
 the ship Ann, at sea, off the harbour of port Morant, in the 
 island of Jamaica, on the 6th ot July, 1781. His father, 
 Benjamin Raffles, was one of the oldest captains in the 
 West India trade, from the port of London. Sir Stamford 
 received his education principally under Dr. Anderson, 
 who presided over a respectable academy at Hammersmith. 
 At an early age he was admitted on the establishment at the 
 East India House, where his talents and his industry 
 obtained for him the esteem and confidence of the then 
 secretary, the late Wm. Ramsay, Esq., through whose in¬ 
 terest, in 1805, the directors gave him the handsome and 
 flattering appointment of assistant-secretary to the govern¬ 
 ment in Prince of Wales’s Island, together with the rank of 
 junior merchant, and an eventual succession to council. 
 He had not been long in that settlement before he became 
 chief secretary. 
 
 While there, he diligently applied himself to the study of 
 the Malay, and other languages of the Eastern Archipelago. 
 To these studies he was incited in no small degree by the 
 late lamented Dr. Leyden, with whom he formed a friend¬ 
 ship the most endearing, which was unhappily terminated 
 by the death of that eminent scholar, who expired at Bata¬ 
 via in the arms of his friend. Such was the success with 
 which he cultivated the study of these languages, that he 
 was appointed Malay translator to the government; and 
 Lord Minto, then governor-general of India, honoured him 
 with especial notice in one of his anniversary discourses to 
 the college of Calcutta. Thus he became known to that 
 truly enlightened nobleman, whose highest regard and con¬ 
 fidence it was afterwards his happiness to enjoy, and in 
 whose death he has had to deplore the loss of a most steady 
 and inestimable friend. 
 
 In 1811, Sir Stamford was induced to visit Calcutta, 
 whence he accompanied Lord Minto in the expedition 
 against Java, in the capacity of private secretary to his 
 Lordship, and his agent in the Malay states; and in the 
 
 VOL. VIII.— NO. 1. J* 
 
 
2 Memoir of Sir T. S. Raffles, Knt. 
 
 month of October in that year, he was appointed to the high 
 station of lieutenant-governor of that island, and its various 
 important dependencies. How he discharged the trust 
 reposed in him by this distinguished appointment is well 
 known; while the mildness and equity of his administration 
 endeared him to the millions, amongst whom he then dis¬ 
 pensed the blessings of the British government, to a degree 
 almost unexampled in our colonial history. 
 
 During his residence in Java, he lost his first wife, to 
 whom he was united previous to his leaving this country; 
 and his health having materially suffered from the combined 
 influence of domestic affliction, and the severe duties of his 
 station, he was induced to visit England. He arrived at 
 Falmouth in the autumn of 1816, bringing with him the 
 Rhden Riina Dipvira, a Javanese prince, with his suit; and 
 a more splendid and extensive collection of specimens of 
 the productions, costume, &c. of the Eastern Archipelago, 
 than had ever before been received into a British port. The 
 reception with which he met in England, must have been 
 highly gratifying to him. He had the pleasure to see that 
 his services were appreciated by the public, while from per¬ 
 sons, of all ranks and classes of society, he received the 
 most flattering marks of kind and respectful attention. 
 
 During his stay in this quarter of the globe, notwith¬ 
 standing the numerous engagements by which he was 
 oppressed, he found leisure to accomplish a tour on the 
 Continent, the details of which have been given to the 
 public by one of the party,—and to publish his History of 
 Java in two large quarto volumes, containing an immense 
 mass of valuable information relative to that interesting 
 country. He also, while in England, had the happiness to 
 form a matrimonial connexion with a most amiable lady, 
 Sophia, the daughter of J. Watson Hull, Esq. late of Great 
 Baddow, in Essex. 
 
 As an acknowdedgment of his services, and as the best 
 appointment, after the resignation of Java, at their command, 
 the East India Company confirmed his nomination to 
 Bencoolen, in Sumatra, which had been held in reserve for 
 him, in the anticipation that such an event might possibly 
 occur. With this appointment, the rank and title of lieu¬ 
 tenant-governor was conferred upon him. He also received 
 the honour of knighthood from his Majesty, then Prince 
 Regent, who graciously permitted the dedication of his 
 History of Java to himself. 
 
 Sir Stamford left the shores of England for his new 
 
3 
 
 Memoir of Sir T. S. Raffles, Knt. 
 
 station, in November, 1817, having been detained at Fal¬ 
 mouth by contrary winds, long' enough to receive the melan¬ 
 choly intelligence of the death of the lamented Princess 
 Charlotte, whose friendship, together with that of her illus¬ 
 trious consort, he had the distinguished gratification to 
 enjoy; and his first public act, on his arrival in his new 
 government, was the forwarding of an address of condolence 
 to his majesty on that most mournful event. 
 
 Since the commencement of his administration in Suma¬ 
 tra, Sir Stamford has been most laboriously and successfully 
 employed in resisting the unwarrantable aggressions of the 
 Dutch—in promoting friendly intercourse with the natives of 
 that vast island—in improving the moral and social condition 
 of the people—and advancing, by all the methods which a 
 liberal and enlightened policy could suggest, the commercial 
 interests of Britain in the Eastern seas. Of all his measures, 
 that of establishing the free port of Singapore, at the ex¬ 
 tremity of the Malay peninsula, is perhaps the most impor¬ 
 tant. This settlement has already prospered to an aston¬ 
 ishing degree, and promises, if continued under British 
 patronage, to become the emporium and pride of the East. 
 There is, perhaps, no place in the known world more advan¬ 
 tageously situated for the purposes of commerce. It com¬ 
 mands the straits of Malacca, places our intercourse with 
 China beyond risk or annoyance, and may become the 
 connecting link and grand entrepot between Europe, Asia, 
 and China—it is in fact fast becoming so, for merchants from 
 all parts are resorting to it, and establishing themselves 
 there, while vessels come from China to Singapore, in five 
 days, to purchase their goods. 
 
 Amidst these important commercial affairs. Sir Stamford 
 has not been unmindful of the claims of science. Natural 
 philosophy, in its various departments of Botany, Zoology, 
 Entomology, &c. has been greatly enriched by his own 
 researches, and those of scientific individuals who have 
 enjoyed his patronage. Considerable collections from the 
 interior of Sumatra have already reached this country, and 
 descriptions of some of the most curious and splendid 
 articles have been presented to the public. Nor should we 
 omit to mention, the decided protection which he has always 
 extended to the accredited Missionaries of every denomina¬ 
 tion—promoting their views to the utmost possible extent, 
 and affording them the most efficient aid in the prosecution 
 of their sacred and benevolent designs. 
 
 We lament, and every friend of the human race and lover 
 of his country must lament with us, that, in the midst of so 
 
4 Ilis lory of Ethics: 
 
 much usefulness, the subject of this brief memoir has been 
 awfully warned by disease and death to quit the scene of his 
 honourable labours. Three, out of four, of his children 
 have been torn from him by a malignant climate; of his 
 personal friends, scarcely one remains ; and he himself, with 
 his amiable lady, have been in a state of health the most 
 alarming and critical. Under these distressing circum¬ 
 stances, Sir Stamford has deemed it an imperious duty to 
 forward his resignation to the East India House; and his 
 last movement, of which we have received intelligence, was 
 a voyage to Singapore, to make suitable arrangements 
 there, prior to his final departure from the Eastern Archi¬ 
 pelago. 
 
 The History of Ethics: a Lecture delivered at the Surrey 
 and Philomathic Institutions. By the lteverend William 
 Bengo’ Collyer, D.D. LL.D., President of the Philo¬ 
 mathic Institution , tyc. Sfc. fyc. 
 
 When I undertook to lecture on Ethics, I had not the 
 presumption to hope that it would be in my power to pre¬ 
 sent to my auditory any thing absolutely new ; but it was 
 my object, and it remains so, to produce, on a subject always 
 important, something which may be generally useful. The 
 syllabus which has been submitted to your consideration is 
 of so general a kind, as to preclude any very close discus¬ 
 sion of those hypotheses which it will be necessary to 
 examine: and the whole that can be attempted will be, to 
 define principles as clearly as possible, and to trace their 
 action, as well upon the various branches of society, as 
 upon the individual himself influenced by them. If I shall 
 be able to do this at all to your satisfaction—if, in beguiling 
 a few wintry hours, I shall awaken the attention of any one 
 individual to the great law of his nature, which associates 
 him with his fellow-men, and with his God, and succeed in 
 explaining the duties inseparable from it—I shall be more 
 than compensated; and your indulgent patience will not be 
 exercised in vain. Such are my humble pretensions, and I 
 submit them to your candour. 
 
 The term Ethics signifies manners —or rather, the regula¬ 
 tion and cultivation of manners—which attention to conduct, 
 deeply influencing both ourselves and others, is expressed 
 better by the appellation of morals. Plato distinguishes 
 them into three branches. Moral Philosophy, regarding 
 man in his individual capacity, was called Ethics —when it 
 
A Lecture, by the Rev. Dr. Collyer. o 
 
 elated to him in his family-relations, it was denominated 
 (Economics: but extending to the larger confederation of 
 general society, it received the name ot Politics, lo the 
 fatter of these, Plato principally directed his attention, 
 although he wrote upon the whole. These distinctions nave 
 been less respected in modern disquisitions; and Ethics 
 have been properly understood to comprehend morals in all 
 their branches, emanating from the individual, diffusing 
 themselves through his immediate connexions, and spiead- 
 ing over all the face of society. Nor does it appear possible 
 to^separate morals in their principle, from an operation as 
 extensive as the relations of life, and the influence of tie 
 individual—his duties being commensurate with his capa- 
 
 Cltl6S» 
 
 In tracing the History of Morals, which is the subject^of 
 the present lecture, the mind naturally reposes upon bo- 
 crates, as the first philosopher who reduced morals to 
 system, uncovered their source, and applied them practically 
 to the duties of the individual, and his relations to others. 
 The philosophy which preceded this illustrious man, 1 elated 
 to nature, and might be called speculative; but he diiected 
 knowledge to purposes of moral utility—renounced such 
 sciences as appeared to him to conduce little 01 nothing to 
 this great design—gathered the scattered precepts of a 
 remote antiquity—reduced them to order—established their 
 truth, or refuted their sophistry—inferred from them prac¬ 
 tical results; and, to use the language of Cicero, was the 
 first who led the studies of mankind to the important 
 inquiries after virtue and vice, and to the establishment 
 of the distinctions and the boundaries of good and e\il. 
 As this unrivalled philosopher wrote nothing, we inust 
 be satisfied to learn the outline of his Ethics from Plato, 
 by whom they were adopted and recorded. Moials them¬ 
 selves are as old as man’s existence, and have been ob¬ 
 jects of inquiry and of speculation in all ages; but the 
 reduction of them to form, (if we except the sacie 
 writings, the oldest of all, and from which there are strong 
 reasons to conclude, they were all borrowed,) must be 
 referred to Socrates among the Grecians. lie becomes, 
 therefore, a central point—equally removed from the scat¬ 
 tered elements to be found among his predecessors, who 
 borrowed them from the eastern world, and the modern 
 writers on this interesting subject, who seem substantially 
 to have adopted his principles, with the advantages fur- 
 
 * Cic. Acad. Quest, i. 
 
6 
 
 History of Ethics: 
 
 nished by the increasing experience of ages, and the more 
 powerful assistance, not always acknowledged, sometimes 
 peremptorily denied, but not the less real and influential, 
 of the sublime code of Christianity. I take my stand upon 
 the simple and beautiful system of Socrates—as upon an 
 elevation from which I may myself see, and be able to point 
 out to you, in every direction, the moral landscape stretched 
 all around it—losing itself, on the one hand, among the 
 shadows of the remotest antiquity, and extending, on the 
 other, to the age in which we live, to the country in which 
 it is our privilege to dwell, and to the very lecture-room in 
 which we are now assembled. 
 
 Pythagoras stands nearest Socrates, as his precursor in 
 this study ; and claims the highest attention and respect, 
 whether we consider the extent of his scientific researches, 
 or the accuracy of his judgment, or the value of his precepts, 
 or the zeal which prompted him to explore the most distant 
 lands, and to bring home the wisdom collected with such 
 toil, from the most celebrated and the most copious sources. 
 He gave his testimony also to the superiority of this science 
 over all other researches; and deemed that philosophy 
 which could not cure, at least some of the human passions, 
 as worthless as that medicine which has no effect upon 
 bodily disease.* He touched upon all the branches of 
 morals virtually, although not methodically; and his mode 
 of recommending moral duties, as w^ell as of defining them, 
 was by figures—by a symbolical and emblematical method 
 of instruction. To the individual who refused his advice, 
 and abandoned his school for sensual indulgences, he ap¬ 
 pealed by addressing the senses; and placing an empty 
 coffin in the seat which he had been accustomed to occupy, 
 as the emblem of that state of moral death to which he con¬ 
 sidered the mind of the unhappy profligate to be reduced. 
 
 He was accustomed to represent the friendship, and 
 union, and harmony, which should prevail among his scho¬ 
 lars, by setting salt before them. Pie expressed moral pre¬ 
 cepts in the same parabolic manner. Sloth, he reproved by 
 the admonition, " Receive not a swallow into your house.” 
 The swallow sports but for a season, soon disappears, and 
 is supposed to be torpid during the greater part of the year. 
 He guarded them against provoking the irritable and, the 
 powerful, by advising, “ Stir not the fire with a sword.” 
 He cautioned against corroding and useless cares, by ex¬ 
 horting, “ Eat not the heart.” He recommended a strict 
 
 * Stobseus Serm. 80 . 
 
7 
 
 A Lecture, by the Rev. Dr. Collyer. 
 
 regard to justice, by the command, “ Pass not over the 
 balance.” The “ concord of sweet sounds, the harmonies 
 of music, were with him favourite images of moral excellen¬ 
 cies. These symbols mig'ht be multiplied, if it were neces- 
 sarv to our present purpose; but such as have been adduced 
 are sufficient to establish and illustrate the emblematical 
 and parabolic mode of instruction relative to morals em¬ 
 ployed by Pythagoras* 
 
 Nor did Pythagoras stand alone in this appeal to the 
 understanding through the medium of the senses. Plato 
 calls virtue, the harmony (apfiovt.av,) and music of the soul. 
 a VXT)C usffiKnv.) Temperance, he describes as a certain sym¬ 
 phony and concord of the affections, (^wmnn, cm ap^oyia.) 
 Plato himself demands of those who read his allegories, 
 that they should not rest satisfied with the image, but pene¬ 
 trate the hidden meaning of the truth so veiled.f And it 
 was therefore justly observed, that “ He is no Platomst 
 who thinks that Plato must not be understood allegorically, 
 unless he will, with Aristotle, triumph over Plato’s words, 
 and not regard his profound sense.”;}: The philosophy of 
 Socrates was plain and simple, and proceeded upon a method 
 peculiar to himself, of asking questions, until he obtained 
 the induction which he desired, from the concessions of his 
 opponents. That of Plato was more dogmatical, more 
 ornamented, and often allegorical. His symbols, indeed 
 w'ere much less obscure than those of Pythagoras, but 
 Aristotle was the first who wholly laid allegory aside; and 
 in considering Plato as the representative of the morals of 
 Socrates, we must not forget that he has added to his 
 master’s principles much of his own manner. 
 
 The saoes who obtained the distinguished title of the 
 Seven Wise Men of Greece, directed their attention princi¬ 
 pally to morals; and conveyed their precepts in the shape 
 of short and pointed aphorisms. Quintilian esteems them 
 certain rules of life. “ As yet,” said that eloquent writer, 
 “ disputation had not obtained—but couching their instruc¬ 
 tions in a few expressive terms, they were presented as so 
 many religious mysteries.”^ One grand sentence may be 
 produced, ascribed by some to Thales, and by others to 
 Chilo, which while it explains this aphoristic mode of 
 teaching, immortalizes the wisdom in which it originated 
 “ Know thyself This was one of those precepts read in the 
 temple of Delphos; and which Cicero so esteemed as to 
 
 * Gale, b. ii. c. 7. vol. ii. p. 167. &c. + Plato. Phoed. and Repub. 
 
 6. and 10. J Coel. Redig. lib. 9. cap. 12. $ Quint, hb. 5. c. 11. 
 

 call it the precept cf Apollo; and he remarks, with singular 
 beauty, that it was given not exclusively to humble man by 
 sending him into his bosom to learn its weakness, but prin¬ 
 cipally, to urge him to form an acquaintance with his own 
 soul, in all the majesty of its powers, and all the importance 
 of their application.* 
 
 These characteristics of the earliest method of teaching 
 morals, lead us still higher towards their indisputable 
 source. The parabolic mode of instruction is notoriously 
 oriental: so also is the proverbial form chosen by the seven 
 Grecian bages. The institutes of Menu may afford a suffi¬ 
 cient evidence of the latter; while the gorgeous imagery 
 interwoven with the very texture of Eastern composition, 
 proves the former. The Grecian poets, older than these 
 historians and philosophers, (for even Thales, Chilo, and 
 his celebrated associates, lived more than than three cen¬ 
 turies after Hesiod,) chose allegory, the very garb of 
 poetry, as the grand vehicle of their moral sentiments. 
 And while their mythological traditions may be distinctly 
 tiaced to an oriental origin, their fables were regarded bv 
 the sages of Greece as containing philosophical truths, 
 under the veil of fiction. Doubtless they drew their ethics 
 from the sources whence they derived their philosophy; and 
 the very form in which Hesiod gives his moral precepts, 
 combines both the characteristics of aphorism and poetry. 
 
 Thales, although said to be born at Miletus, is contended 
 to have been of Phenician extract; and it is certain, that he 
 travelled into Asia to acquire oriental wisdom. Pythagoras 
 is known to have traversed various countries in that direc¬ 
 tion, and to have extended his researches as far as India. 
 Plato visited Egypt, then the receptacle of the learning of 
 the world—having received her knowledge from the latter— 
 and confesses that the principles of his philosophy, as well 
 as the use of symbols, were derived from older nations 
 W’hom, in conformity to the usage of the Greeks, relative to 
 all people except themselves, he calls Barbarians. The 
 Phemcians, as the earliest navigators, carried the sciences, 
 and the symbols under which they were couched, from the* 
 oriental world, and from Egypt immediately to Greece, and 
 even to Britain; whose Druids, more ancient than those of 
 Gaul, resembled in many striking points, as well of philo¬ 
 sophy, as of religious observances, the Hindus; and shew 
 
 m the most obvious particulars, the oriental oripiu of their 
 system. ° 
 
 * Cic. Tuscab. I. 22, &c. 
 
9 
 
 A Lecture, by the Rev. Dr. Collyer. 
 
 It is difficult to obtain information relative to the origi¬ 
 nation of ancient science, from any records except those of 
 sacred history. From whatever fountains the sages ol 
 India drew their theories, it is evident that those ot Greece 
 drank of the same wells of knowledge. The philosophical 
 schools of the East comprise the metaphysics of the dif¬ 
 ferent sects of Grecian philosophy; and, as oriental systems 
 are unquestionably older than those of Greece, if a real 
 analogy subsists, it must have been imparted to the latter : 
 it could not have been derived from them by the former. 
 The grand and favourite doctrine of Pythagaras, relative to 
 the transmigration of souls, adopted even in the purer and 
 more simple philosophy of Plato, is so evidently of Eastern 
 origin, that it becomes a powerful argument in support ol 
 the hypothesis of the derivation of other parts of the same 
 system from the same quarter. And with the general prin¬ 
 ciples of philosophy, came their Ethics, both as to substance 
 and to the form of communication. Conjecture and hypo¬ 
 thesis may, however, be well spared, when we have the 
 testimony of Diodorus Siculus direct to this point. “ All 
 those,” he says, “ who were renowned among the Greeks for 
 wisdom and learning, did in ancient time resort to Egypt, 
 thence to deduce philosophy and laws.” The peculiar dog¬ 
 mas of the Grecian philosophers are respectively acquired 
 from Egypt, Phenicia, Chaldea, India, and Persia. The 
 sun of knowledge rose, like the orb of day, in the East. 
 Certain terms, and even the names of their idols, are by the 
 Grecians borrowed from the Egyptians, between whose 
 language, and that of the Phenicians and Chaldeans, is such 
 an affinity, that they may, with little difficulty, be traced to 
 an Hebrew origin. 
 
 Having touched upon this point, I will venture to remind 
 you, that there*is a book, the most ancient of all existing 
 records—for even should its inspiration be denied, none 
 pretend to question its antiquity—in which the purest 
 moral precepts, and the most sublime religious truths, are 
 seen veiled in parables, couched under symbols, and commu¬ 
 nicated in proverbs. To this book may be traced as well the 
 traditions of the East, as the systems of Greece; and as an 
 important fact, it it is necessary to remark, that if we are 
 desirous of following the history of morals up to its spring¬ 
 head, sound learning and diligent research have found, in 
 this neglected volume, the grand and inexhaustible source 
 after which the world has been so long looking; and which, 
 like the fountains of the Nile, lay concealed from ages and 
 generations. 
 
,10 History of Ethics: 
 
 The Eleusinian and Bacchic mysteries, those astonishing 
 and characteristic parts of Grecian religion, were symboli¬ 
 cal representations of things moral and philosophical. They 
 were an attempt to ground a sublime philosophy upon a 
 mass of fabulous tradition; and so far the attempt was cor¬ 
 rect, in that those very fables originated in either scientific 
 researches, natural phenomena, or moral truths, symboli¬ 
 cally expressed. Plato represents these mysteries as typi~ 
 fyingthe external evils associated with material existence— 
 the vices and humiliation of the spirit in its corporeal 
 union—and the future transformations through which it is 
 to pass. In the mean time, while philosophical and moral 
 truths were intended to be taught, the mind was corrupted, 
 and the passions inflamed, by the indecencies and sensuali¬ 
 ties encouraged, as symbolizing the communication of divine 
 energies to the various forms of intellectual being. The 
 same exposition has been already suggested of the fables of 
 the poets, and of the whole Grecian mythology—moral pre¬ 
 cepts, philosophical truths, and natural sciences, are all 
 conveyed by these parables. Such is precisely the religion 
 of the Hindus at this hour. It is philosophical in it£ cha¬ 
 racter, closely allied with astronomy, and moral in its pur¬ 
 poses. But to whom does it bear these features of virtue 
 and sublimity? To the Bramins, who, like the British 
 Druids, (evidently of the same family,) are at once the 
 priests and the philosophers of the country ; to the select 
 number, who, like the initiated into the Eleusinian mys¬ 
 teries, have the concealed physical and moral truths ex¬ 
 plained ; while these symbols are to the Eastern multitude, 
 what corresponding symbols were to the Grecian populace, 
 the organs of gross idolatry and of irrational superstition. 
 The conformity, however, of the greater and lesser myste¬ 
 ries so celebrated in antiquity, with the existing practices of 
 India, both covering morals with the veil of fiction, both 
 abusing the multitude with fables, and degenerating in 
 ordinary use into the grossest licentiousness, shews again 
 the origination of these moral symbols in the East. 
 
 In conformity with this oriental method of representation, 
 we find the prophets of the Old Testament symbolizing in 
 like manner, virtues and vices, judgments and deliverances, 
 things spiritual and future. It was the genius of that 
 country, it remains so, and it was evidently transplanted 
 thence to Greece and Rome; this luxuriant moral vegeta¬ 
 tion springing originally in a warmer clime, and from a 
 richer soil, than Europe could boast. The conquerors who 
 have successively plundered the East, have brought home 
 
11 
 
 A Lecture, by the Rev. Dr. Collyer. 
 
 more valuable spoils than her silver, and her gold, and hei 
 gems ; and Greece had the meanness to steal her morals 
 and her philosophy, and then to brand her as barbarian. 
 They did not even leave behind the beautiful and many- 
 coloured vest in which she clothed her systems, wrought m 
 the loom of her own splendid imagination, and mingled like 
 the radiant hues of her own dayspring; and when they had 
 decorated themselves with her intellectual and moral riches, 
 they put her out of the pale of their privileged society : for 
 if the term barbarian did not mean with them, as with us, 
 the absence of civilization—it signified emphatically, a 
 foreigner —and drew a broad line ol distinction between hei 
 and her imperious enslavers. Nay, Aristotle justified the 
 policy which then prevailed, by laying down as a fundamen¬ 
 tal and self-evident maxim, that “ Nature intended baiba- 
 
 ri ans to be slaves.” . 
 
 I have already directed your attention to one significant 
 symbol employed by Pythagoras, which w as the use of salt 
 as the emblem of the union and harmony wdiich ought to 
 subsist among the members of his philosophical school. 
 This is so truly oriental, that it at once shews whence it was 
 derived. Salt is still the symbol employed in the East to 
 denote the confirmation of any engagement, and it remains 
 the pledge of inviolable friendship. Treachery would be 
 stigmatized by this figure: and as we should say, that he 
 who ate of our bread had forgotten us; they would mark the 
 ingratitude by saying, that the offender had eaten of the 
 salt of the injured party. No man, of whatever rank, who 
 had any regard to his character, to public opinion, or to 
 sacred obligations, would venture to break a promise esta¬ 
 blished by this significant symbol. It is one of the most 
 solemn forms of an oath—the person swearing receives into 
 his mouth a little salt, placed for that purpose upon the 
 blade of a scymeter, imprecating his own death, if he shall 
 prove unfaithful to his engagement, or a violator of truth. 
 Salt stood in the most sacred relations, as it was inseparable 
 from sacrifice, and the symbol of covenants of the highest 
 order, religious as well as civil. If we connect these usages 
 with the distinct and important use of this symbol in the 
 Jewish church, with which Pythagoras and Plato were well 
 acquainted, and to which they both allude, sometimes calling 
 them Chaldeans, and sometimes Syrians, because of the 
 abhorrence in which they held the Jews, as separating 
 themselves from all other people by their strict and singular 
 institutions, and to conceal the fountains whence they 
 
. 12 History of Ethics: 
 
 drew their knowledge of’morals and religion, we shall dis¬ 
 cover that it was indeed a most significant emblem. It 
 implied confederation, as salt was the seal of a covenant— 
 communion, as it was a bond of friendship— sanctity, as it 
 was inseparable from sacrifice—and perpetuity, from its pro¬ 
 perties of preservation—a covenant of salt, signifying not 
 only a confirmed agreement, but an indissoluble engage¬ 
 ment—the use of the symbol in the sacred writings implying 
 eternity. 
 
 I have thus, taking my stand upon the Ethics of 
 Socrates, looked back upon the history of morals, before his 
 day, so far as it can be discerned. It is fairly traced to the 
 East, and I should not fear, were this the time or the place, 
 to enter into the discussion, to prove the origination of the 
 general philosophy of all ages, in revelation, either oral or 
 written—traditional indeed to these nations, but recorded 
 upon the imperishable pages of inspiration; and I advance 
 this sentiment with the greater confidence, because it is not 
 out of order, that distinguished philosopher himself, upon 
 whose system of Ethics we have taken our stand, referring 
 all illumination to the Deity, confessing the want of a 
 divine teacher, and expressing his confident expectation that 
 such an instructor would appear. 
 
 When Socrates devoted the powers of his mighty mind to 
 morals exclusively, it was not from any conscious deficiency 
 in the other branches of science and philosophy. It was 
 not the effort of an uncultivated intellect, labouring to con¬ 
 ceal its literary poverty under the covering of an interest in 
 moral attainments which left neither time, nor taste, for 
 other pursuits. Socrates was rich in all. He studied under 
 Anaxagoras and Archelaus, the most distinguished physio¬ 
 logists; and we have the testimony of Plato and of Xeno¬ 
 phon, rivals and opponents on all other questions, but agree¬ 
 ing in this, confirmed long after by the judgment of Cicero, 
 that this great man was skilled in all sciences, eminent for 
 all learning, distinguished as well for his literary acquire¬ 
 ments as for his mental endowments, and that to whatever 
 he applied himself, in that he was sure to excel. Such was 
 his acknowledged pre-eminence, that he was pronounced 
 by the oracle, the wisest oj men. It arose, then, from a noble 
 disdain of those pursuits, which, however ingenious and 
 applauded, terminated in speculation, or closed without 
 producing a moral benefit. Socrates had one grand object, 
 which was to reduce philosophy to practice; therefore he 
 cultivated exclusively the science of morals, and bent to it 
 
13 
 
 A Lecture, by the Rev. Dr. Collyer. 
 
 alike the sublime powers of his mind, and the extensive 
 acquisitions which he had made. What was, with philo¬ 
 sophers preceding him, wrapped up in dark sayings, he 
 reduced to the plainest terms ; what was with them inciden¬ 
 tal and occasional, was with him a study, and the work of 
 a life; a work, moreover, to which he finally sacrificed that 
 life. He had one great subject—I call it one, because 
 although it divides itself into two parts, these are insepa¬ 
 rable ;°and out of their relation all morals arise. This sub¬ 
 ject was, the consideration of God, and of Man. The first 
 was the object of his most intense contemplation; the 
 second, he became acquainted with by the most intimate 
 and familiar conversation. The one formed the substance 
 of his metaphysics ; the other, laid the basis of his morals. 
 
 Plato had the spirit of his master, but he covered it with 
 his own magnificent mantle. The C yuics, acknowledging 
 Antisthenes°as their head, imbibed the noble sentiment of 
 Socrates, that all philosophy ought to be resolved into 
 moral. Whatever coarseness might attach itself to their 
 contempt of present things—and Diogenes justified fully 
 the censure, that there was at least as much lll-natuie. as 
 sincerity in the sect—they deserve the praise of regarding 
 science only in so far as it can conduce to the moral benefit 
 of man. “ Why,” said this severe Cynic to an astronomer, 
 “ do you look after the moon and stars, and disregard the 
 things which are under your feet?” To another, speculating 
 upon dreams, and seduced by astrology, (a study, moreover, 
 which was transplanted from Chaldea,) he obseived with 
 pointed indignation, “ You are curious to define the import 
 of your dreams, but you pay no regard to your waking 
 actions.” “ To live according to virtue,” (Vo nar aper^^v,) 
 was their grand maxim, as the very end of our being* 
 Such a philosophy deserved to be separated from brutality; 
 such attention to morals, from a disregard to manners, that 
 thus their science might merit the name of Ethics; and such 
 elevation of sentiment, from a contempt of literature. 
 Neither morals nor religion require that the forms of polish¬ 
 ed society should be laid aside, or the common sympathies 
 of our nature be renounced; but both, the one as the prin¬ 
 ciple, and the other as its application, will, when rightly 
 received and exercised, soften the manners, while they 
 purify the heart. 
 
 The Stoics followed the Cynics, and formed a close alliance 
 with them, dismissing their contempt for literature. Their 
 * Gale, vol. ii. b. 4. c.ii. p 42‘>. 
 
14 
 
 History of Ethics: 
 
 head was Zeno; their title was taken from the porch in 
 which they met, similar circumstances giving the name of 
 Academics to the school of Plato, and the distinctive appel¬ 
 lation of other sects of Grecian philosophers. Although 
 discriminated by some peculiarities, the Ethics of Zeno for 
 the most part resembled those of Socrates; and while Cicero 
 is an illustrious disciple of the Academics, Epictetus is as 
 splendid a representative of the Stoics. 
 
 We must not forget, in the history of morals, a most 
 abused name, Epicurus; a man whose life was as pure, as 
 his principle was sound, if it be taken in the sense in which 
 he evidently proposed it, and of which his whole character 
 was a visible interpretation. He made the end of life to be 
 pleasure ; but he commanded it to be sought in the path of 
 virtue. There were who adopted his principle, and disre¬ 
 garded its operation; who professing enjoyment as the 
 great object of being, sought it in the grossest sensuality, 
 and transmitted the name of Epicurus with dishonour, to a 
 posterity that would otherwise have done justice to his prin¬ 
 ciples, and venerated his personal character. A man who 
 held, that “the principal happiness is in God,” that the 
 sublimest pleasures are mental, and that there is an insepa- 
 rable connexion between enjoyment and virtue; however 
 he may have been misconceived, misrepresented, and misap¬ 
 plied, held no principles destructive of morals, nor which 
 indeed differed widely from the received bases of Ethics; 
 and to these sentiments, his irreproachable character gave 
 the most ample and decided testimony* The blemish in 
 his system was his atheistic tenets, which, whenever they 
 are adopted, cannot fail to neutralize morals. Nothing 
 could be more demonstrative of this fact, than the abuse of* 
 his ovvn Ethics, and the immorality of his own professed 
 disciples. Those who adopted his atheism, soon forgot his 
 morals; and avowing pleasure to consist in sensuality, 
 sacrificed reason to the passions, and philosophy to licen¬ 
 tiousness. 1 J 
 
 Among the sects of philosophers who arose after Socrates 
 none neglected morals, nor failed to consider Ethics as a 
 
 and to . blend tb e study of it with their philosophy, 
 with the exception of the Sceptics- properly so called,because 
 
 t?J° U ^ ed ° f - eVe K thin S' The which has been 
 
 V PurtZ ed Tl an !P° b , e ^mortality, in this connexion, is 
 
 dfnTed th J 7 l emed that tmth could be discovered— 
 denied that any thing was just, or unjust, moral or the con- 
 
 * Laertius, and Gale, vol. ii. p. 444. 
 
15 
 
 A Lecture, by the llev. Dr. Collyer. 
 
 trary—denied any rule of action, and any end of being. 
 Every thing was denied, and nothing established—every 
 thing pulled down, and nothing built up in its room. Ihe 
 sect, alas, has not confined itself to Greece, nor perished 
 with Pyrrho. And where this unfortunate perversion of 
 powers, this obliquity of intellect, obtains, the happiness of 
 the individual, and the well-being of society, are alike endan¬ 
 gered. It is also a pursuit which requires neither genius 
 nor understanding. It is easy to unravel the web which has 
 been wrought, with the greatest skill, into the most perfect 
 beauty. It is easier to demolish a temple, than to construct 
 a hovel. That which requires so little knowledge, can con¬ 
 fer no renown; but unfortunately, the damage to society 
 bears no proportion to the facility ot the operation: that 
 which costs no labour, does nevertheless incalculable in¬ 
 jury. . , . 
 
 I have purposely delayed naming Aristotle until the pre¬ 
 sent moment, although he preceded some ot the last-men¬ 
 tioned sects in point of time, because of the entire change 
 which he introduced into his philosophy in respect of Jotui. 
 Under this distinguished leader, the Peripatetics ranged 
 themselves. His mighty and comprehensive genius em¬ 
 braced all subjects. We find him in all the walks of science— 
 Physics, Metaphysics, Ethics, all occupied his attention. 
 What profession does not trace some of its elements to his 
 industry and talents ? In respect of the subject immediately 
 under consideration, his principles were substantially those 
 of Socrates; but he changed the whole order of communi¬ 
 cation, and razed the usages of all antiquity. The great 
 principle which he established was, that nothing should be 
 taken from tradition, but every thing demonstrated by 
 reason. The establishment of this principle caused men to 
 lose sight of the origination of that very philosophy which 
 he had°himself embraced. All Greece received her informa¬ 
 tion from tradition, or rather from those who had themselves 
 so gathered it. Her dependence upon the East, the coun- 
 try & of tradition, was evident from the forms in which she 
 clothed her precepts, and which she borrowed, with the 
 principles themselves. With perfect consistency, when 
 Aristotle refused tradition, he decried the symbolical mode 
 of instruction. With him originated those logical subtil- 
 ties, and those metaphysical disquisitions, which captivated 
 and distinguished the schoolmen, so many centuries after¬ 
 wards, and impeded the progress of knowledge, while they 
 assumed her name—banished the substance, while they 
 
worshipped the shadow, until the immortal Lord Bacon 
 arose, and once more appealing to nature and to truth, 
 emancipated philosophy from the trammels of hypothesis, 
 and placed her upon the immoveable basis of experiment. 
 
 Such were the principal Grecian philosophers, and such 
 their modes of moral instruction, Socrates being still the 
 central point. The Romans conquered Greece, and learned 
 lier philosophy. The illuutrious names of Cicero, Seneca, 
 
 Pliny, and others no less distinguished, (for who can enu¬ 
 
 merate the stars in that constellation, of every thing majes¬ 
 tic and imperishable, comprised in the eternal name of 
 Rome?) confessed these Grecian sages to be their masters, 
 and manifested towards them all the warm affections of 
 disciples. After the fall of the Roman empire, an awful 
 blank occurs in the history of morals; and it was not until 
 ages elapsed, that the fountains of ancient philosophy were 
 again broken up, and syllogistic wranglings yielded to the 
 new impressions received from systems which had been long 
 forgotten, but not one of whose immortal features time had 
 been able to injure, although he had succeeded for some 
 centuries in obscuring them. The immediate effects of this 
 restoration of the old philosophy to the light of day, I have 
 already anticipated. The disciples of the Grove, of the 
 Stoa, and of the Lyceum, could not more eagerly contend 
 for the characteristic distinctions of their schools,^ than did 
 these new Academics, Stoics, Peripatetics, for the respec¬ 
 tive dogmas of antiquity. The results of Bacon’s bold and 
 steady investigation overthrew the whole system of physics. 
 
 and opened the path of knowledge before the pupil of 
 
 science, broad and unobstructed. In respect of Ethics, the 
 event was far different. The very freedom of inquiry which 
 demonstrated the physical absurdities of antiquity, displayed 
 to the greatest advantage the g-eneral grandeur and truth of 
 its Ethics. And it would be injustice to the great names 
 which have been produced, not to confess, that of all the 
 modern systems of Ethics, not one is to be found which 
 does not, directly or indirectly, emanate from the principles 
 of one or other of the schools. 
 
 I grant all the advantages arising from our nearer approxi¬ 
 mation to the eternal Fountain of light and truth_and 
 
 this is a superiority for which I shall contend, before the 
 present course of Lectures closes—but the general princi¬ 
 ples were derived from tradition, approved and adopted by 
 these illustrious minds, atid have received, with the applause 
 of ages, the sanction of modern moralists. I never read 
 
17 
 
 A Lecture, by the Rev. Dr. Collyer. 
 
 the Offices of Cicero, without feeling that Crotius, Puffen- 
 dorf, and some of our brightest luminaries, have borrowed 
 no small portion of their splendour from this brilliant orb. 
 And while some of our professed writers on Ethics have 
 adopted the characteristic distinctions of the respective 
 schools, as their fancy, or their judgment, guided them: 
 there have been found those, who have not scrupled to 
 patronize the principles of Pyrrho, and to attempt to bring 
 again the shadows of scepticism over the dayspring of 
 revelation. They have imbibed the atheism of Epicurus 
 without his morals; and employed the sophistry of Stilpo, to 
 establish the laxities of Protagoras. Of this unhappy class 
 is the theory of Hobbes, whose metaphysical atheism, 
 exposed by various writers, has been combated by none 
 more successfully than by the learned and distinguished 
 Oudworth, supported by Dr. Clarke and Dr. Price. Lord 
 Shaftesbury and Hutcheson take other grounds, into the 
 detail of which it does not comport with a simple historical 
 sketch, such as is the present Lecture, to enter. These 
 were followed by Mr. Hume; contemporary with him, and 
 since his day, w r e have had a Butler, a Palev, a Priestley, 
 a Hartley, a Smith, a Cogan, a Stewart, a Reid—some of 
 whom are spared to the world of letters, while others have 
 passed away with former generations, 1 have mentioned 
 these slightly, and have omitted others, because they will 
 come before us in their order hereafter, w hen their principles 
 shall demand investigation. Having conducted the history 
 of morals down to modern times, I may close the outline 
 which 1 have attempted, and not intrude any further obser¬ 
 vations upon facts which are generally known, and names 
 universally familiar, whose merits, as moralists, will be the 
 subjects of future discussion. 
 
 It was the great object of Socrates to lead the contem¬ 
 plations of his school to the Deity. From his Being, and 
 our relation to him, he argued moral obligations; and im¬ 
 pelled by a sense of duty so arising, he reduced speculative 
 philosophy to practice ; and renouncing those disputations, 
 whieh were merely intellectual, or related to science as 
 irrespective of any active result, he bent the whole force ot 
 his vigorous mind to render men wiser, better, and therefore 
 happier, than he found them. He referred them to the 
 Deity as the fountain of good—to his will, as the grand rule 
 of morals. He said expressly, that “ virtue came by Divine 
 inspiration;” and whatever we are to understand by that 
 mysterious demon, which he affirmed constantly intimated 
 
 VOL. vm.— no. 1. c . 
 
18 
 
 History of Ethics: 
 
 to him what he should or should not do, it is evident in 
 general, that this professed and supernatural impulse was 
 part of his adopted system, that referred all things excel¬ 
 lent in man to the Divine Being. It was this conviction 
 that induced him to devote himself to the study of morals, in 
 preference to any other branch of science; and which im¬ 
 parted that purity and sublimity to his Ethics., which dis¬ 
 tinguished him above all other philosophers. 
 
 I call Socrates the first who reduced morals to system, 
 only by courtesy, as he was the first among heathen philo¬ 
 sophers who effected this; by that kind of courtesy too, 
 which has, in my opinion, been carried too far, and deprived 
 the Bible of its due rank in the world of science, its just 
 share in the discussion of morals, not to say, the fair claim 
 of having been the first, as well in point of antiquity as of 
 success, in the field of Ethics. It has every way the supe¬ 
 riority over the system of Socrates, as over every other ; and 
 it is shameful cowardice in the friends of revelation to dismiss 
 so lightly its pretensions in connexion with the great ques¬ 
 tion of morals, when no pains are spared on the part of those 
 writers on Ethics who deny its authority, to nullify its 
 influence on the subject. The same delicacy is not 
 observed on the part of those who would exclude it from 
 the moral code, and they at least set us the example of 
 boldly speaking out those sentiments which we hold in 
 respect of its claims. If it shall hereafter appear, that this 
 book stands closely allied with Ethics; that it states clearer 
 principles, furnishes more certain rules, and produces more 
 extended and decided results, than any other system of morals 
 which has yet appeared—to pass it over, as unworthy atten¬ 
 tion—to yield its superiority, without investigating the 
 ground on which it is assumed—to dismiss it, without 
 observing the stand which it takes—is not merely treating 
 the book without candour, but doing the subject itself 
 irreparable injustice. 
 
 Should its inspiration be disputed, or even denied, its 
 system of Ethics lies before us for examination, in common 
 with that of Socrates, or of any other philosopher, and has 
 at least an equal right to be heard, and equal claims to 
 respect. It is abundantly more ancient than any other 
 system. It is the code whence most of the principles of 
 jurisprudence have been taken, and from which all law¬ 
 givers have borrowed the substance of their legislation. 
 j.!jven the moral system of Socrates proceeds upon princi¬ 
 ples which may be distinctly traced to a scriptural origin; 
 
19 
 
 A Lecture, by the Rev. Dr. Collyer. 
 
 and the way in which it was derived may be easily conceived, 
 after what lias been said respecting the deduction of Gre¬ 
 cian philosophy from Eastern nations, and by the confession 
 of Plato from the Syrians. Socrates laid down four great 
 principles, which were obviously the same with those 
 established in the Bible; and as he flourished a century 
 and a half later than the destruction of the Jewish empire by 
 Nebuchadnezzar, it is evident with whom the principles, 
 common to both, originated. These four leading sentiments 
 were. First, the spiritual, infinite, and eternal nature of 
 Deity, together with the doctrine of his unity, for which 
 this distinguished man may be said to have died a martyr. 
 This is the grand doctrine of the Scriptures. Secondly, the 
 corruption of human nature, (kclkov e/j(f>vrov, &c.) a fundamen¬ 
 tal fact, affirmed at the very commencement of the Jewish 
 records. Thirdly, a native blindness in which all men are 
 enveloped ; the natural result of the former principle, if that 
 be conceded, and constantly insisted upon in the Hebrew 
 writings. Fourthly, that virtue was not attainable by nature 
 or art, but is the product of a Divine inspiration ; an opinion 
 which has been generally considered peculiar to the volume 
 of revelation. These things Socrates asserted as the basis 
 of his philosophy; and they are so allied to the sentiments 
 held by the Hebrews, that one can scarcely fail of the con¬ 
 clusion, that they were traditionally derived thence, through 
 some of the channels opened by the Phenicians, or acquired 
 by the personal intercourse of the principal sages of Greece 
 themselves, with the oriental nations. If, therefore, the 
 principles of the greatest of the Heathen philosophers ap¬ 
 pear to be borrowed from the Scriptures; or if it be only 
 evident, that there is a striking coincidence between the 
 Ethics of Socrates and the doctrines and precepts of the 
 Bible, in giving the history of morals, it was impossible to 
 overlook the latter; and if it be at all noticed, its native 
 grandeur will not fail to entitle it to rank first in the scale 
 of moral disquisitions. 
 
 These remarks will have tenfold weight, if they are applied 
 to the New Testament, where the superiority of its moral 
 system is so striking, that it is maintained with the most 
 affecting eloquence by Rousseau himself, in the person of 
 a Savoyard priest, and in a work in which it was evidently 
 intended that the imaginary speaker should convey the 
 sentiments of the philosophical author. He states justly, 
 that Socrates, who had been considered by some as the 
 inventor of morality, was in fact, which we have now 
 
20 
 
 On the Results of Art, 
 
 represented him, only the first who reduced it to system 
 among the Greeks; and he supports this remark, by produ¬ 
 cing some splendid examples of justice, patriotism, tempe¬ 
 rance, and the moral virtues, as practised long before he had 
 framed his scheme of Ethics. He maintains a superiority 
 so great on the part of the Son of Mary, over the Son of 
 Sopmonisca, that it will not admit of a comparison between 
 them : and, to use his own words, he confessed, that “ the 
 majesty of the Scriptures filled him with admiration, and 
 that the sanctity of the gospel addressed itself to his heart.” 
 f/ *v?“ 1 s 1 sea V; ^ lus thought and spake of the moral system of 
 the Eible; if he could add, that “ the works of philosophers, 
 wit 1 all their affectation of greatness, appeared to him 
 mean when compared with that volume;” I repeat, it would 
 have been inexcusable indeed, on my part, to have passed it 
 by unnotmed, in professing to give a history of morals. 
 
 It it be important to learn the crude elements, out of 
 which mighty empires have been composed; if it be inte- 
 lestingto trace grand political results to their secret source, 
 a source sometimes as obscure as the effects are tremendous 
 and astomshing; if nothing is indifferent which associates 
 itself with the faculties of men, and points out the march of 
 intellect; if we cannot contemplate the sublime operations of 
 uman skill and industry, without being anxious to ascertain 
 by what nnnd they were conceived, and by what hand thev 
 were executed, that the immortality of the artist may be co¬ 
 extended with that of his work-a nobler principle than 
 ciniosity unpels us to learn the history of morals. When 
 e Py ra mids of Egypt shall be covered with the sands of 
 e desert which drift upon them, or, yielding at last to that 
 influence of time which they have so long resisted, even 
 these stupendous monuments of ancient science shall sink 
 unuer the weight of accumulated ages, the structure of 
 morals, whose foundations are laid in eternity, shall rear its 
 awful head in the heavens; and, standing unmoved amidst 
 the shock of elements, surviving the dissolution of nature 
 remain alone, majestic, and uninjured, surrounded by the 
 
 wrecks of the material universe. J 
 
 On the Results of Art, as connected with the Happiness of the 
 Human Race in general. 
 
 human aTSIi'T 1 ' 011 and Discover y> the results of 
 human Art, and the transactions of mankind, have been 
 

 as connected with Human Happiness . 21 
 
 generally viewed through a medium, too partial and parti¬ 
 cular, not sufficiently generalized, and either too sanguine, 
 too despondent, or too disdainful. There have been some 
 gloomy prophets, who, with melancholy broodings, have 
 predicted the ruin and downfall of every thing terrestrial; 
 who are constantly pointing to the ages of excellence, 
 ages long gone by, and moralizing upon the degeneracy of 
 recent times; who pronounce every innovation pernicious, and 
 every deviation from the past, an approximation to ruin ! 
 
 On the other hand, we have dreams of human perfectibi¬ 
 lity ; of an indefinite and interminable advancement towards 
 perfection, though never to be attained. Here every step 
 is an improvement, every change beneficial—-all science is 
 progressing, every art advancing—virtue is triumphant, and 
 vice abashed and diminished! In a word, “ the world is 
 grown honest.” Again, we have had pictures drawn of the 
 golden age ; yet the best authority has told us, that the first 
 man who was born into the world slew the second, and it has 
 rather provokingly been asked, when were the times of sim¬ 
 plicity, of innocence, and of peace ? 
 
 Rousseau, in his first memorable production, contended, 
 that the savage state was more happy than the civilized. 
 This was undoubtedly a paradox. He reasoned from false 
 premises; his description of savage nature was disguised 
 and decorated in the flowing periods of his matchless elo¬ 
 quence, whilst the picture of cultivated man was distorted 
 and caricatured by the pencil of exaggeration. His defini 
 tion of Happiness might, also, require some critical exami¬ 
 nation, and probably very few would agree in its accuracy. 
 
 It is not by any means certain, that man ever did live in 
 a purely savage state . Either we must believe the account 
 presented in" the sacred writings, which describes man as 
 created, and created perfect; or we must believe that he 
 existed through all eternity —there is no choice, no medium 
 between the two. If, then, man was created perfect, where 
 is the evidence of his primitive ignorance? If he existed 
 from all eternity, is it reasonable to conclude that it was 
 reserved for the present, or any recent period, to discover 
 the important knowledge of the means of happiness? 
 
 There are, indeed, abundant statements to be found in the 
 books of travellers, of men who live, even now, in a state 
 very different to that which we term civilized. But the whole 
 subject is one of the most vague and indefinite description 
 It is, at the best, entirely comparative : we know of no men 
 who are absolutely and strictly uncivilized. The Romans usee 
 
22 
 
 On the Results of Art, 
 
 to call all the rest of the world “ barbarians,” and justified 
 their wars under the pretence of introducing civilization in 
 the train of conquest. Those who compose a society, 
 state, or clan, and live under the dominion of social ties, 
 however limited in extent, are so far civilized. They are 
 influenced by the wishes and approbation of each other: 
 they learn from experience, however rude and confined, some 
 principles of moral and social order, and some knowledge of 
 the distinctions between right and wrong. In the very 
 lowest state of human society; out of the common association 
 in the chase, or in the means of obtaining subsistence, there 
 would arise something resembling concert and order. But 
 the number of those who have been found in this rude con¬ 
 dition is comparatively few, and unworthy of estimation in 
 any general view of human society; and it is obvious to 
 remark, that the advantages of refinement being unknown 
 in the ruder ages, they would be undesired, and their 
 absence consequently unregretted. Our present happiness 
 is never affected by any unascertained good, which may be 
 discovered in the lapse of future time. But, leaving this 
 point as a matter in dispute, the leading proposition intended 
 to be maintained, is, that no arts, inventions, discoveries, or 
 attainments of mankind, of which we can trace the first existence, 
 or which can be claimed by any particular age, have in¬ 
 creased the general stock of human happiness. .All that 
 those arts and attainments have done, has been merely to 
 change, not to improve, the state or condition of human 
 existence, to vary it in some particular features, to modify 
 and refashion old customs and habits, and by new combina¬ 
 tions and manners, to alter the external aspect and mere 
 surface of artificial life.—It will not be necessary to review 
 the two extremes of human society, to contrast the supposed 
 period when nature existed in all its wildness, and when art 
 is asserted to have been yet unborn, with that era, in which 
 the latter had attained its greatest eminence. We may 
 observe, hovyever, in passing, that the advocates of the high 
 benefits derived from human acquisitions, very naturally 
 select the most favourable period and country upon which 
 to found their argument. On the other hand, they would 
 drive us to choose the opposite extreme of imputed barba¬ 
 rity ; but the existence of both extremes, is questionable. 
 Let us, however, allow that some few individuals, unfa¬ 
 vourably circumstanced, may experience the misery arising 
 from a total ignorance of the arts of life. Allow that 
 others, “ happily born,” derive superior enjoyment from the 
 
23 
 
 as connected with Human Happiness. 
 
 possession of all the refinements of polished society. These, 
 surely, are not the results of human art, at which there can 
 be any cause, or reason, to rejoice—one person in a hundred 
 thousand rendered happier than the rest of the species. 
 This is a noble result, worthy of the exultation of the patriot 
 and philanthropist! 
 
 It is, however, no fair consideration of the' general ques¬ 
 tion, to contrast the two extremes. Let us view the ages 
 described in the pages of Homer and Ossian, or in the 
 historians of the earliest times, and compare those periods 
 with the supreme elevation of modern refinement. Look at 
 the time when literature scarcely existed, when every thing 
 mental was centred in the songs of the bard, the minstrel, 
 and the prophet; when there was some splendour and mag¬ 
 nificence, but little taste or elegance; when there was evi¬ 
 dent abundance, but little luxury—yet when there were 
 the same distinctions amongst men as in the present period, 
 the same gradations of rank, the same inequalities of wealth, 
 and the same varied degrees of renown—when there were, 
 also, the same kindred and social ties, and when the same 
 passions, feelings, and faculties existed as at the present 
 day.—There was a period which might be called the empire 
 of the sword. In that age, valour was] the chief quality in 
 estimation, and it consequently attained the highest reward. 
 Comparatively speaking, there now exists over a large part 
 of the habitable globe, the reign of mind. The mode by 
 which it governs is opinion, and talent is now the chief 
 quality in request; yet influence, not reason, is the agent 
 by which its purposes are effected. 
 
 In rude ages mankind obtained their objects by physical, 
 not mental, force : hence it followed, that strength, activity, 
 and bravery, were so highly estimable. In polished times, 
 wealth, public opinion, and influence, in general, bear sw^ay; 
 yet the object, at both periods, is the same—to enable the 
 few to govern, perhaps, sometimes, to enslave, the many. 
 
 The criterion by which we may try the value of human 
 art, and of all that it has accomplished, is the degree of hap¬ 
 piness which has resulted to mankind in general, ihere is 
 no test, except this, by which we can ascertain the merit of 
 any production. Every thing should be estimated by the 
 quantum of innocent pleasure it affords to the human race. 
 All art and science is encouraged in proportion as it admi¬ 
 nisters to the real, or supposed, satisfaction and convenience 
 of society. The encouragement is sometimes fastidious, 
 and ill-placed, but it always assumes the existence of 
 
24 
 
 On the Results of Art, 
 
 practical good. ISo one is such a Bedlamite as to like what 
 does not please him. But it is just possible, that he may 
 affect to be pleased, when he is not really so—that he may 
 be regulated in his choice, and in the clamour of his ap¬ 
 plause, by the opinion of others. 
 
 It has always been considered extremely difficult to define 
 happiness. The difference of opinion has obviously arisen 
 from the variety oj means which each person requires to 
 constitute his own; but, by whatever means it may be pro¬ 
 duced, all will allow that it consists in agreeable thoughts and 
 sensations. In other words, we are happy when we are 
 thoroughly pleased. Now all the faculties and feelings, on 
 the exercise of which happiness is dependent, were of the 
 same nature and extent, in the earliest times, as they are at 
 present. The objects by which they were aroused, may be 
 changed or altered, or differently modified, but the capacity 
 for happiness remains the same. There is the same amount 
 of pleasure and pain, the same amount of hope and fear, the 
 same amount of expectation and disappointment; and it 
 would appear, therefore, that the elements being the same, 
 and the general combination of those elements being similar, 
 there must, with the exception of some slight modifications* 
 be a corresponding result. 
 
 Leaving this general view of the subject, let us ask what 
 poition of mankind is it, whose happiness has been improved 
 by the progressive advances of art? Are those who possess 
 great capacity and most exquisite feeling, in possession ofhigher 
 or more numerous means of enjoyment ? They were equally 
 gratified in the rudest times, as in the most refined. 1 The 
 heroes of Homer and Ossian were as much elated with their 
 distinctions as the most gifted moderns: they possessed 
 equal objects of ambition. The plumed warrior, who drag¬ 
 ged his captives at Ins chariot wheels, received as loud and 
 swelling a shout of human applause, as ever greeted the 
 ear of a modern orator or a modern statesman. If refinement 
 has increased the number of factitious gratifications to those 
 who possess great sensibility, who have more softness of 
 heart than energy of head; if it enables them 
 
 “ To fill the languid pause with finer joy,” 
 
 the same icfinernent has created, with its gratifications, 
 endless wants—with more numerous expectations, more' 
 numerous disappointments—with a greater variety of amuse¬ 
 ments and pleasures, a correspondent share of languor, 
 pain, and vexation. & 
 
25 
 
 as connected xoith Human Happiness. 
 
 There is certainly a large portion of mankind who are not 
 much visited with the delicate susceptibilities to which we 
 have adverted. They are in the lowest class. They have 
 been the most numerous and most oppressed in all ages and 
 in all countries. It will not be contended that art or inven¬ 
 tion has done much for them-. Will any one say, that “ the 
 lean unwashed artificer,” the pallid mechanic, or the squal- 
 lid manufacturer, who crowd the great towns and cities of 
 modern refinement—will any one assert that these are supe¬ 
 rior in thought or sensation to even a wild man of the woods, 
 to the intrepid and fiery savage, to him who depends on his 
 bow and his arrotv, or on the bounties of a fertile though 
 uncultivated soil ?—or will you analyze the gratifications of 
 the vassal of a military chieftain, or a feudal lord, and com¬ 
 pare him either with the former or with the latter? If art 
 has the convenience of its cities, nature bestows the glow¬ 
 ing health of its fields, the inspiring brightness and sublimity 
 of its prospects, its endless grandeur, and its exhaustless 
 variety. 
 
 Happiness, as we have seen, consists in agreeable thoughts 
 and sensations. But these thoughts and sensations must 
 have correspondent means and causes. Many of our agree¬ 
 able sensations may be very easily traced to the cornucopia 
 of plenty. Famine is not so well adapted to afford plea¬ 
 sure, nor is the prospect of it even in the very lap of ease an 
 agreeable thought. The means of subsistence administer to 
 the appetites and the gratification of the senses. Now, in all 
 ages, the means of subsistence are nearly equal. The sup¬ 
 ply is generally proportioned to the demand. No one age 
 can in this respect boast much over another. There has 
 been occasional famine and disaster at all periods. 
 
 But agreeable thoughts and sensations are produced, in a 
 considerable degree, by the approbation and sympathy of our 
 fellow-beings. The praise of the praiseworthy is a fit and 
 meritorious object of ambition. We never act without 
 motive, and the applause of the good and wise is a powerful 
 incentive to action 5 but the approbation of men is not 
 always sufficiently discriminating. It sometimes adminis¬ 
 ters to the petty follies of vanity, it sometimes arouses the 
 malice of envy, it sometimes swells the selfishness of pride, 
 and it sometimes gratifies the ignoble ambition of possessing 
 qualities in themselves utterly valueless, and often perni¬ 
 cious, though admired because of rare and difficult attain¬ 
 ment. But this approbation and sympathy of our fellow- 
 beings is not the result of art, or a discovery that belongs 
 
26 
 
 On the Results of Art, 
 
 to any particular age, much less to any recent one. Men 
 have sought for applause, and have been applauded, in all 
 ages, and the amount of this desirable object has been the 
 same throughout all time. The attainments which have 
 produced it have, indeed, been different. Circumstances 
 have changed the means by which it was obtained, but 
 have neither increased or diminished its value or extent. 
 At one period superior skill in hunting, or in war, has been 
 the supposed perfection of the human character,—at another, 
 excellence in the fine arts, in science, in literature, “ bears 
 the palm alone/’ The civilian then surpasses the warrior, 
 and “ the gown triumphs over the swordyet this is a 
 mere change of the means—the end remains the same—the 
 path of the race is altered, but the goal stands immutable. 
 
 The accumulation of facts, the extension of what is called 
 knowledge, is esteemed by many as incontrovertibly advan¬ 
 tageous to the human race. It would be as unnecessary, as 
 laborious, to walk the extensive round of the sciences. In 
 few words, however, we may advert to two of them, and 
 probably in the selection it will not be alleged, that the 
 least important, or the most easily depreciated, have been 
 chosen. Astronomy and chemistry are among the most 
 eminent of the sciences. The one, as it were, grasping 
 within its range the whole material universe, and the other 
 analyzing the nature even of its minutest particle. The 
 one calculated to fill the mind of the sublimest genius, and 
 the other to occupy the attention of the most inquisitive and 
 active observer. 
 
 To some few persons it is doubtless satisfactory, that the 
 solar system has been so well explained. It is undoubtedly 
 true, that when the mind is contemplating the stupendous 
 nature of that system, it derives a high and positive gratifi¬ 
 cation. But this is a pleasure enjoyed only by a few, and 
 if the thought which we are now examining had never 
 existed, who is prepared to say, that the happiness of those 
 few cultivated minds would have been less? The same 
 mind that is occupied in the admiration of the system thus 
 developed, would not have been vacant. It would have been 
 filled by some other thought, and it is the exertion of the 
 faculty that constitutes the pleasure. Besides, it is by no 
 means clear that the explanation of the theory of the uni¬ 
 verse is, in itself, an object of much pleasure. The far 
 greater part of the agreeable thought is made up of that to 
 which we are not indebted to art. It consists in the posi¬ 
 tive pleasure we derive, first, from the exertion of the mental 
 
 A 
 
27 
 
 as connected with Human Happiness. 
 
 power; and secondly, of the corporeal organ; and the em¬ 
 ployment of the latter depends on that flood of light which 
 is every where poured on the visual sense. \V hat satisfac¬ 
 tion would a blind man have in contemplating the abstract 
 theory of the universe? Independent of this, too, our own 
 sensations are, after all, the most important in the produc¬ 
 tion of the agreeable idea. What does a man, amidst the 
 writhings of torture, care for the Newtonian system ? W hen 
 he is happy, when the train of his thoughts is agreeable, 
 when he enjoys “ the sunshine of the soul,” when “ his 
 bosom’s lord sits lightly on his throne,” there is no art, no 
 invention, no discovery, no acquisition that can by possibi¬ 
 lity add to the amount of his happiness. 
 
 The ancient chemists reduced, as they thought, the 
 material world into four elemental substances. The modern 
 chymists have discovered a great many more ; but it does 
 not follow, that the substantial interests of the human race 
 are much affected by it. W hether there be four, or forty, or 
 four hundred primitive substances, does not appear to be of 
 much consequence. We cannot alter the substances them¬ 
 selves, nor can we prevent the combinations amongst those 
 substances which take place in the general operations of the 
 material world. It is not the mere nomenclature that is 
 so very important. The names by wdiich they are called, 
 whether few or many, can make no difference in the utility 
 of their nature. Perhaps it will be said, that chemistry has 
 been applied to the purposes of life, to cookery and medi¬ 
 cine. Of the former, it may be sufficient to say, that the 
 ages of Epicurus and Lucullus were amply advanced in all 
 the arts of the banquet, for any purpose, either useful or 
 pleasurable. Gluttony and drunkenness are not of modem 
 discovery; neither is simplicity of diet. Those who have 
 been edified by a recent production, called “ Death in the 
 Pot,” will not be very prone to boast of modern excellence 
 in the arts of the kitchen. But chemistry is useful in the 
 materia medica. One w r ould wonder, indeed, amongst so 
 many discoveries, how people can be so extremely foolish 
 as to remain sick, or, under any circumstances, to give up 
 the ghost! Yet perhaps we shall, after all, arrive at the 
 conclusion, that the sick and wounded, and the deaths, have 
 been very nearly equal at all periods of the known world. 
 
 The limits of an Essay do not allow of more than a very 
 brief reference to the Arts. There are some which are 
 useful to the few, and some which are useful to the many. 
 Nothing appears more delightful than music, painting. 
 
28 
 
 On the Results 'of Art, 
 
 poetry, and rhetoric. One remark which may be made is, 
 that mankind are as well pleased, if not more pleased, in the 
 origin and rise ot these arts, by the rudest efforts, as when 
 they attain their utmost perfection. As the arts advance, 
 the knowledge of them advances—with superior artists, rise 
 up superior critics. The blissful ignorance of wonder, the 
 enthusiasm of unlettered novelty, is no more. The pain of 
 the artist, in attaining perfection, is as great as the pleasure 
 of the amateur in beholding it. 
 
 Architecture is an ornamental, as well as a useful art; 
 but is any one the better, or wiser, or happier, for the five 
 orders of architecture? Suppose there had been only one— 
 suppose the art had terminated with the invention of the 
 Tuscan order, and we had heard nothing of the Doric, or 
 the rest; is there any person whose real advantages would 
 have undergone the slightest reduction? 
 
 Dut, then, there are happily others, the culinary and' luxu¬ 
 rious arts. We have sumptuous fare, fine dresses, splendid 
 houses, and brilliant equipages. Unfortunately, however, 
 the possessors of these things think very little of them, and 
 perhaps the most illustrious amongst them have no more 
 agreeable thoughts or sensations in entering the great halls 
 of their ancestors, than we have in entering the humblest 
 cottage. 
 
 “ Some are, and must be, greater than the rest— 
 
 More rich, more wise—but who infers from hence. 
 
 That such are happier, shocks all common sense.” 
 
 The invention of the alphabetic and numeral characters 
 has been generally considered as very important. Letters 
 were a great improvement upon hieroglyphics, in the facility 
 of conducting business: yet so far as amusement and inge¬ 
 nuity are concerned, we are not perhaps much the gainers, 
 t is more agreeable to look at a picture than at a great A 
 The Chinese are said to have 80,000 characters, and cer¬ 
 tainly if novelty and variety be, as we generally suppose, 
 agreeable, the Chinese have the advantage. The acquisi¬ 
 tion of them would, it is true, be rather operose; yet the 
 number of arts and accomplishments, which some attain 
 amongst us, do not demand a less consumption of time and 
 *i° U -n e * P U L apart from this, does any one suppose that 
 he Egyptians, or the Chinese are less happy than we are 
 
 because they are not blessed with the sublime invention of 
 our a, b, c ? 
 
 There is another art, connected with the use of these 
 
 1 
 
 
 
as connected ivith Tinman Happiness. 
 
 29 
 
 a,b,c’s, which it is still more dangerous to undervalue, the art 
 of printing. Its utility, of course, can only consist in the 
 diffusion of knowledge. Now, the facts and principles 
 which are really known, or discovered, are very easily 
 diffused—those facts and principles, so far as they are 
 important, are few in number, and capable of being easily 
 disseminated. The necessity of printed books may there¬ 
 fore at least be questioned. It may even be thought that 
 their number is becoming an evil—that there is far more 
 error, prejudice, and falsehood, now issued from the press, 
 than accuracy, correct judgment, or truth. That which is 
 good in moderation, is an evil in excess; and the extreme 
 fondness for books, so far as it extends, is a diminution of 
 the pleasures of social intercourse. The studious character 
 in general either shuns society, or, when he enters it, is 
 useless or unamiable. 
 
 Amongst the discoveries of mankind, that of the continent 
 of America was undoubtedly the greatest. In reading its 
 history, even as described by the admirable pen of Dr. 
 Robertson, and in viewing its general effects on the old, as 
 well as the new world, we are compelled to conclude, that it 
 has hitherto only carried war and devastation into the 
 regions of the West, and opened the pernicious floodgates of 
 new wealth and new luxuries, upon the nations of the East¬ 
 ern Hemisphere. Well might the Americans reject the 
 European promise of bettering their condition. “ They 
 boast they come but to improve our state, enlarge our 
 thought, and free us from the yoke of error. Yes! they 
 will give enlightened freedom to our minds, who are them¬ 
 selves the slaves of passion, avarice, and pride! They offer 
 us their protection. Yes! such protection as vultures give 
 to lambs—covering and devouring them!” “ If Europe,” 
 
 says Montesquieu, “ has benefited much by America, Spain 
 must have derived still greater advantages. Yet Philip the 
 Second was obliged to make the nation bankrupt. This 
 is owing to an inherent and physical defect in the nature of 
 riches, which renders them vain—a defect which increases 
 every day. Gold and silver are either a fictitious or a repre¬ 
 sentative wealth. The representative signs of wealth are 
 durable. But the more they are multiplied, the more they 
 lose their value, because the fewer are the things which they 
 represent. Spain behaved like the foolish king, who desired 
 that every thing he touched might be converted into gold, 
 and who was obliged to beg of the gods to put an end to his 
 misery.” It may be urged, that the productions of America 
 
30 
 
 0« the Results of Art, 
 
 are useful, because they increase the number of our gratifi¬ 
 cations. But, ’tis doubtful whether there be any thing im¬ 
 ported from the new world that was not to be found in the 
 old. Let us see what was the state of ancient commerce 
 whilst it was limited to the Eastern hemisphere. Its pro¬ 
 ductions appear to have been numerous enough to satisfy 
 the most luxurious and voluptuous. Those" productions 
 have scarcely been surpassed since the discovery of Ame¬ 
 rica. The following is an abridged description of the traffic 
 of the Eastern nations: “ The Phoenicians, coasting the 
 peninsula of Arabia, bent their voyages to the Persian Gulf, 
 and imported from thence the pearls of Havila, the gold of 
 Saba and Ophir, the aromatics and precious gems of Cey¬ 
 lon, the diamonds of Golconda, the silver, the^gold dust of 
 y e Black Sea, in ships of Egypt and Syria, 
 were exported those commodities which constituted the 
 opulence of Thebes, Memphis, and Jerusalem. Sometimes, 
 ascending the course of the Tigris and Euphrates, they 
 awaked the activity of the Assyrians, the Medes, the Chal¬ 
 deans, and the Persians; and, according as they were used 
 or abused, cherished or overturned their wealth and pros¬ 
 perity. Hence grew up the magnificence of Persepolis, of 
 Ecbatana, of Babylon, of Nineveh, and of the melancholy and 
 memorable Palmyra. It may be urged, that many of these 
 souices are dried up or exhausted: an answer may be 
 quoted fiom the same author: “ Do the mountains retain 
 their springs? are the streams dried up? and do the plants 
 no more bear fruit and seed ? Has heaven denied to the 
 eaith, and the earth to its inhabitants, the blessino's that 
 were formerly dispersed?” 
 
 If it be still contended that America itself, or that 
 Europe, has been benefited bv the discovery, we should 
 recollect some of the evils that followed in its train In 
 order to work the mines of America, to cultivate its lands 
 and manufacture its productions, it has been considered 
 necessary to depopulate the villages of Africa. The prac¬ 
 tice has generally been to destroy, or drive into the woods 
 and mountains, the natives of the newly favoured country 
 to take possession of their territories, and import the poor 
 negroes to cultivate and work them. It is not essential to 
 sketch the picture of the horrors of the slave trade. It 
 may be necessary only to remind those, who, in the exul- 
 tation of partial abolition, have forgotten its former, and its 
 still existing, atrocities, that it was conducted by treachery 
 by fraud, rapine, and violence that these miserable beini’ 
 
31 
 
 as connected with Human Happiness. 
 
 were tom from their native land, “ nor wife, nor children 
 more did they behold, nor friends, nor happy home.” They 
 were driven, chained in herds, like cattle, to the sea-shore, 
 and embarked, like cargoes of senseless logs, to a distant 
 and unhealthful region. 
 
 If our attention be pointed to the luxuries we derive from 
 this extension of commerce, let us recollect that the same 
 wave that bears to one man a new source of sensual gratifi¬ 
 cation, rolls over the ruined hopes and fortunes of another : 
 that multitudes perish in attempting to reach those fatal 
 shores : that multitudes die a sudden or lingering death in 
 its heated and pestiferous or ungenial climates : that multi¬ 
 tudes sink beneath the waters in the ungratified wish to 
 regain the land of their sires. Count together these human 
 calamities, and add the loss of property, and of health, 
 which others sustain in this boasted traffic, and then deter¬ 
 mine which should preponderate in the scales of good and 
 evil. 
 
 “In the savage state,” it was said by Lord Kaims, “ that 
 man is almost all body, with a very small portion of mind. 
 In the maturity of civil society, he is complete both in mind 
 and body. In a state of degeneracy, by luxury and volup¬ 
 tuousness, he is neither mind nor body.”—Now, the tendency 
 of the intercourse with America, has merely been to increase 
 the quantum of luxury, already sufficiently great. 
 
 “ Have we not seen round Britain’s peopled shore. 
 
 Her useful sons exchang’d for useless ore ? 
 
 The wealth of climes, where savage nations roam. 
 
 Pillag’d from slaves, to purchase slaves at home ? 
 
 Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen who survey 
 The rich man’s joy increase, the poor’s decay: 
 
 ’Tis your’s to judge, how wide the limits stand 
 Between a splendid and a happy land:— 
 
 Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore, 
 
 And shouting folly hails them from her shore— 
 
 Yet count our gains—this wealth is but a name. 
 
 That leaves our useful products still the same.” 
 
 Let us, to complete the picture, view the stability of this 
 great commercial discovery. Look to the facts enregis- 
 tered on the pages of history. It has been well said, that 
 “ commerce has wings.” It flew from Egypt, from Phoeni¬ 
 cia, from Carthage. It fled from the Pisans, the Florentines, 
 the Genoese, the Venetians, the Hanseatics. Do we expect 
 it will now change its nature, or that its advantages will 
 remain when it has changed its abode ? 
 
32 
 
 On the Results of Art, 
 
 If the productions of human art, in the course of so many 
 centuries, comprised even in authentic history, have been 
 so beneficial to mankind, and so progressive in their im¬ 
 provement, probably some one will indulge us by saying 
 what it is they have permanently effected in the mental or 
 the moral condition of human nature. Is health increased, 
 . or life prolonged, by the labours or the discoveries of the 
 sons of Esculapius? They are not, however, to blame. 
 Their chief occupation is to correct the evils of excessive 
 luxury and refinement. They cannot add to sound health, 
 or lengthen the allotted span of human existence. It would 
 be unreasonable to expect it. The changes effected in the 
 culture of the earth, in edifices, in furniture, in dresses, in 
 equipages, in luxurious living, are enjoyed by a few only. 
 If there were no attendant and correspondent evil, such a 
 result would be an advantage. To produce the unmixed 
 happiness of one individual , unconnected with the misery or 
 inconvenience of another, would be something gained. But 
 the enjoyments of the few are unhappily obtained at the 
 severe labour and expense of the many. 
 
 In the mental progress of the world, we take the credit of 
 being now more correct in our ideas than at a former 
 period. Let us pass the egotism of judging upon our own 
 merits; let us look to the state of the facts, and we shall 
 find, that the age has not gone by in which one set of 
 mental philosophers deny the existence of mind, and another 
 the existence of matter. How far then are we superior to the 
 ancients ? Are our mental attainments more agreeable and 
 pleasant than those of our ancestors ? Are they more numerous, 
 are they more novel and intense, as well as more numerous ? 
 It is probable we may all recollect the time when we had 
 fewer thoughts to occupy our minds, or, it might be said, 
 fewer to distract them. But we may doubt the memory, or 
 the candour, of the person who asserts, that in the spring¬ 
 time of life, when every thing appeared “ new and strange*/’ 
 he was less pleased with the few bright and novel ideas 
 with which the mind was filled and delighted, than at a 
 later period, when, indeed, the number was increased, but 
 certainly neither their intensity nor their pleasure. 
 
 But this is contemplating the subject with respect to the 
 individual. Our business is strictly of a more general 
 nature. Has any new idea been added to the stock ? Has 
 the genius of the present enlightened times suggested any 
 single thought that was before unknown ? Have we not 
 been going on, from age to age, borrowing of one another ? 
 
 * 
 
as connected with Human Happiness. 33 
 
 Have we done any thing more (even if we have done that) 
 than vary a little the arrangement of our mental stores? 
 Can it be proved, that the most learned, or the most scien¬ 
 tific, are the happiest? Select in your mind the most 
 eminent man of the present age, in this or any other coun¬ 
 try, and if he be really happy, you will find his felicity very 
 little dependent upon his learning, his science, or his skill 
 in any art whatever. 
 
 We come next to the moral improvements which are sup¬ 
 posed to have been effected. The benefits of Christianity 
 cannot be appealed to on the present occasion. That 
 purest and best religion, that system of moral perfection, 
 whose precepts, if made the universal rule of conduct, 
 would humanize the world, and create another paradise in 
 this vale of tears, was revealed, and never could have been 
 discovered. It is not the production of imperfect man. It 
 is no art, and no science; but is above them all. Indepen¬ 
 dent of this revealed system, what new truth in morals has 
 been discovered? The earliest of all moralists suggested 
 all that the latest enjoin. In all ages it has been taught, in 
 all ages it has been known, that our happiness depended 
 on the practice of virtue. What new maxims have been 
 discovered ? What new motives of action? At all periods of 
 the world, recorded in profane history, there have been 
 folly, vice, and crime. Religion has denounced the wrath 
 ot eternity. All laws have issued their thunders : yet folly, 
 vice, and crime, have still existed. They have varied only in 
 mode and object. They have changed with the times, and 
 been proportioned to the pressure of distress, and the temp¬ 
 tation of relief. 
 
 Advancing even to higher ground, what has the wisest 
 system of legislation effected, what have all the forms of 
 government accomplished ? Unequal and oppressive laws, 
 and despotic rule, are considered as tremendous evils. But 
 the general principles of justice pervade all laws, and these 
 “ when best administered are best.” Liberty can only be 
 esteemed as a means of happiness. No one would admire 
 it, il misery were its natural consequence. It is the fact, 
 however, that in every age persons have called aloud for 
 better laws and more liberty; yet 
 
 “ How small, of all that human hearts endure, 
 
 That part which kings, or laws, can cause or cure.” 
 
 If we consult the catalogue of complaints at the present 
 period it would appear, that so far from our possessing more 
 
 VOL. VIII.—NO. 1. D 
 
34 
 
 On the Results of Art, 
 
 justice and liberty than any antecedent age, “ since the 
 great flood,” we are positively groaning under the weight 
 of the most oppressive system of law and government that 
 ever plagued the human species ! 
 
 An argument of no small force is to be derived from the 
 conception we must have of the goodness of “ the great 
 First Cause.” No one will dispute, that the end and object 
 of our creation was evidently the production of happiness. 
 To suppose otherwise, is to suppose any thing but good¬ 
 ness. Now, is it conceivable, that mankind should be left 
 to grope their way in the dark, in search of this summum 
 bonum; that the very purpose of their being should be left to 
 the uncertain cultivation and progress of countless ages ? 
 Where would be the justice of leaving all the early races of 
 mankind to struggle through comparative infelicity, and 
 reserve the possession of happiness to some remote genera¬ 
 tion? We may thoroughly understand, why the happiness 
 of each individual should, in a great degree, depend on 
 himself; but it is incomprehensible, to every natural feeling 
 and notion of justice, that one race of men, as deserving as 
 another, should possess a less degree of the reward of virtue. 
 
 In favour of our position, we may refer to the argument 
 offered by the analogy in the appearance of the universe. 
 There every thing was created, at first, as perfectly as was 
 necessary. The material world remains the same. It nei¬ 
 ther improves, nor retrogrades : it undergoes a partial change, 
 but in its general features it is immutable. In the long 
 lapse of time, mountains may be raised or levelled, the 
 elevation of a hill, or the depth of a valley, may be increased 
 or diminished ; but these appearances of nature still exist. 
 The species may change, but the genus continues the same. 
 The great ocean may roll its mighty waves into new chan¬ 
 nels, but its nature, and its magnitude, are unchanged. 
 The waters sometimes produce fertility, and sometimes 
 destruction. The periods and the modes of operation 
 change, but the general result is the same. The earthquake, 
 the tempest, the tornado, the pestilence, visit different por¬ 
 tions of the globe; they change the site and scene of their 
 devastation, but in no age has the whole earth been exempt 
 from their influence. The sun is not increased in brightness, 
 nor are the stars diminished in lustre. They have illumined 
 the world, they have shone on man’s fitful life for many 
 thousand years—they still shine in the same splendour. 
 The vegetable kingdom, and all the tribes of lower animals, 
 have remained the same. It is reasonable, therefore, to 
 
as connected with Human Happiness. 
 
 35 
 
 infer that human nature, its passions, its thoughts, its feel¬ 
 ings, and its happiness, have been, are now, and will con¬ 
 tinue to the end of time to be, as they were at the beginning. 
 
 Yet, notwithstanding these views of art and science, and 
 human acquisitions, it must be allowed that the world is 
 greatly indebted to those ingenious, active, and enterprising- 
 spirits, who, in all ages, have exerted their faculties to 
 amuse or gratify the human species. The strains of music 
 charm and captivate the ear—the eye is delighted with the 
 exhibitions of the pencil—the fancy is dazzled and elevated 
 by the “ fine frenzy” of the poetic lay—the understanding 
 is gratified by the skill of the rhetorician, and the heart by 
 the eloquence of the orator.—Science has done much. It 
 has amused, as well as been useful. Literature in general 
 is a source of gratification, very important to an age of high 
 refinement, and it sometimes removes the leaden languor of 
 idleness. 
 
 But still we must contend against the assumption, that 
 the welfare of society, and of the human species in general, 
 can materially depend on the eminence or the extension 
 either of art, science, or literature. The attainments and 
 supposed advantages of the present age, are not superior 
 to those of former periods. Throughout all authentic 
 time, the arts have existed in all the extent and perfection 
 that can be necessary or useful in the production of human 
 enjoyment, and the promotion of human happiness. The 
 welfare of mankind, the utmost range of its felicity, the 
 truest and most permanent interest of the species, consists 
 not in the perfection of art. It depends on 
 
 “ What nothing earthly gives, or can destroy, 
 
 The soul’s calm sunshine, and the heartfelt joy.” 
 
 It does not depend upon the most boundless extent of 
 riches—it does not depend on the utmost summit of worldly 
 wisdom. It is to be found in all climes and all situations— 
 in every age, and in every period of the world. It is the 
 gift of Heaven itself. It cannot either be destroyed, or 
 improved, by the vicissitudes of human invention. It 
 requires only to be rightly appreciated, and to be tempe¬ 
 rately enjoyed. In fine, 
 
 “ That virtue only makes our bliss below, 
 
 And all our knowledge is ourselves to knov 
 
 R. M. 
 
36 
 
 The Mischievous Effects of Gaming: a Charge delivered to 
 the Grand Jury of the County of Berks, in the State of 
 Pennsylvania. By the Hon. Jacob Rush, President of the 
 Third District oj the Court of Common Pleas and Quarter 
 Session for the State of Pennsylvania. 
 
 [The lamentable instance of the effects of gaming, which 
 has for many weeks past superseded all other topics of 
 general conversation and public interest, has induced us to 
 select the present moment for presenting to our readers the 
 following excellent charge, by an American Judge whose 
 name is well known in England, and highly respected there, 
 as it deserves to be, for the boldness with which he has ever 
 maintained from the seat of justice, the distinguishing, and 
 what, in the estimation of the world, are deemed the oppro¬ 
 brious doctrines of the gospel. His judicial charges were 
 published at Philadelphia, at the particular recommendation 
 of the Presbyterian clergy of that city, as “ enforcing a 
 number of moral and religious duties, in a manner that will 
 appear to many at once new, just, and striking,” as “ parti¬ 
 cularly and highly estimable, as they demonstrate the con¬ 
 nexion between the principles of religion and those of 
 social happiness, to be necessary and indispensable,” and 
 from their being “ well calculated to render every person 
 who seriously and candidly reads them, both a better Chris¬ 
 tian and a better citizenand though they have since 
 been reprinted at New-York,we are assured, that to most of 
 our readers, if not to all, they will be perfectly new, as we 
 from time to time commend the most striking and generally 
 interesting of them, to their notice.] 
 
 Gentlemen of the Grand Jury, 
 
 The practice of gaming, with the long train of evils 
 generally resulting from it, have been pointed out and 
 deplored, not more frequently by the divine and the mora¬ 
 list, than by the statesman and the patriot. Whether the 
 love of this pernicious amusement be deeply implanted in 
 human nature, as some have supposed, or be altogether the 
 effect of habit, as others believe, it is certain, when once it 
 gets possession of the mind, there is no vice that tyrannizes 
 over its miserable votaries with more uncontrolled sway. 
 Such is the infatuation which often attends it, that innume¬ 
 rable instances might be mentioned, of persons, who, by ven¬ 
 turing their all upon this ocean of chances, have been 
 reduced from opulence to poverty and wretchedness, in the 
 
37 
 
 The Mischievous Effects of Gaming. 
 
 short space of a few minutes. And though such desperate 
 scenes of guilt and folly do not often occur in our country, 
 yet as all vice is in its nature progressive, and we are making 
 rapid advances in every kind of luxury, there is reason to 
 fear we shall, ere long, rival our European brethren in this, 
 as well as in every other mode of criminal dissipation! 
 There is, however, a species of gaming conducted on a 
 lower scale, which abounds extremely among us, is chiefly 
 carried on at taverns, and is practised by "persons of all 
 descriptions, high and low, rich and poor, old and young. 
 It is to this scandalous violation of the laws of the land, 
 this open insult upon government, I mean at this time to 
 turn your attention, as to an evil of growing magnitude, 
 which threatens our country with very calamitous effects. 
 
 It would consume too much time, and is not my intention, 
 to go into a full discussion of the innumerable evils flowing 
 to society from the practice of gaming. They are so 
 obvious, as to present themselves to the understanding of 
 the most unreflecting person. Let it suffice to observe, 
 generally, that as it springs chiefly from idleness, the fruit¬ 
 ful, the inexhaustible source of almost every vice, so it has 
 a natural tendency to produce idleness. It operates as 
 cause and effect, and is at once both parent and offspring. 
 \V hen the heart is once thoroughly possessed of this passion, 
 every thing is sacrificed to its gratification. In the mad' 
 pursuit, health and constitution are gradually destroyed by 
 irregular hours, and disorderly conduct. Sleepless nights, 
 corroding passions, and a neglect of business, accompanied 
 with the intemperate use of ardent spirits, soon plunge both 
 the gamester and his family into one common ruin.* 
 
 It would be a fortunate circumstance, if the detail of 
 
 * The pernicious consequences of play, have been frequently 
 described in the strongest terms, and illustrated by the most striking 
 examples. Seldom, however, have they been represented on so 
 large a scale, as in the account of the fate of a great body of game¬ 
 sters at Hamburgh, which an intelligent spectator has published 
 in a German Gazette, as the result of his attentive examination, 
 during a period of two years. Of six hundred individuals, who were 
 in the habit of frequenting gaming-houses, he states, that nearly one 
 half not only lost considerable sums, but were finally stripped of all 
 means of subsistence, and ended their days by self-mnrder. Of the 
 rest, not less than an hundred finished their career by becoming 
 swindlers or robbers on the highway. The remnant of this unfortu¬ 
 nate group perished; some by apoplexy; but the greater part by 
 chagrin and despair. He mentions, that during the whole space of 
 two years, to which his journal is confined, he did not see one of 
 these six hundred gamesters with a single new dress .—See Rc/f's 
 Gazette of February 2, 1802. 
 
mischiefs ended in the destruction of the constitution and 
 temporal concerns of the gambler : but the case is far other¬ 
 wise. The fatal effects of gaming extend beyond the grave. 
 The mind is deeply contaminated, and sentiments, the most 
 hostile to its final peace and happiness, are harboured and 
 indulged. The gambler is frequently tortured with pa- 
 roxyms of rage against Heaven ; the effect of raised expecta¬ 
 tion being suddenly dashed at a critical moment: meanwhile 
 his countenance is almost as much distorted with agony, as 
 that of a person suffering on the rack: from which we may 
 form a pretty correct idea, what must be the sensations that 
 are tearing his heart; and how infinitely injurious their 
 effect must be on the temper and disposition of the soul. In 
 short, I must be permitted to remark, however displeasing the 
 observation may be, that a gaming-table generally exhibits a 
 scene of great immorality, where the most criminal passions 
 rage uncontrolled, and dreadful oaths and imprecations 
 burst from almost every tongue. That this is not a false, or 
 exaggerated description, candour itself must acknowledge— 
 and, I think, it must at the same time be as readily acknow¬ 
 ledged to be the duty of every friend of virtue and his 
 country, to abstain from an amusement pregnant with the 
 strongest temptations to avarice, fraud, lying, cursing, 
 swearing, contention, fretfulness, and every emotion that 
 can disorder the heart. Even the stern philosopher, who is 
 supposed to consult nothing so much as the tranquillity of 
 his own bosom, would do well to avoid it, as dangerous, if not 
 destructive, to that serene and unruffled enjoyment of mind, 
 which he affects supremely to pursue. He who voluntarily 
 and unnecessarily places himself in a situation where his 
 innocence may be lost, or his feelings become the sport of 
 blind imperious chance, acts a part neither compatible with 
 the character of sound wisdom, or virtuous circumspection. 
 The ideas of the great philosopher, Mr. Locke, should not, 
 therefore be hastily reprobated ; who, after examining this 
 subject with his usual acuteness, declares it to be his 
 opinion, that in order to avoid all temptation, the best way is, 
 never to learn to play a single card. 
 
 Impressed, no doubt, by these, or other considerations 
 still more forcible, the legislature of our state have endea¬ 
 voured to abolish every species of gaming. The axe has 
 been laid to the root of the evil by the law of April, 1794, 
 intitled, “ An Act for the Prevention of Vice and Immora¬ 
 lity, and of unlawful Gaming, and to restrain disorderly 
 Sports and Dissipations,” which has rendered it completely. 
 
39 
 
 The Mischievous Effects of Gaming. 
 
 and to all intents and purposes, unlawful in Pennsylvania. 
 It will not be improper to lay before you a brief sketch of the 
 law on this subject. 
 
 The fifth section forbids fighting cocks* for money, or 
 other valuable consideration, under the penalty of three dol¬ 
 lars ; and as it is notorious, that nothing so much encourages 
 this inhuman and brutal diversion, as laying bets, and that 
 cock-fighting is often the result of a speculating gambling 
 temper, any wager on the event is prohibited under a like 
 penalty. Playing at cards, dice, billiards, bowls, shuffle- 
 board,'bullets, and any game of address or hazard for money, 
 or other valuable consideration, is also forbidden, under a 
 penalty of three dollars. With respect to playing bullets 
 on the highway , the act forbids it under the like penalty, 
 whether there* be any bet laid or not. The remedy in this 
 case, is what the law calls cumulative or additional. For, 
 as playing bullets in the highway obstructs the road, and 
 incommodes passengers and travellers, it is an offence, inde¬ 
 pendent of the act, for which the parties are liable to indict¬ 
 ment and fine at common law. A penalty of twenty dollars 
 is also annexed to the offence of horse-racing, for money or 
 other valuable consideration.^ 
 
 * In England, this inhuman and brutalizing sport is a favourite 
 amusement with many of our gentry ; nay, we ourselves could, with¬ 
 out difficulty, name a nobleman, in whose veins flow the blood of as 
 illustrious ancestry as our peerage can produce,—who is himself the 
 lord-lieutenant of one of the most extensive and most important 
 counties in the kingdom, and as such is placed at the head of, and 
 has the virtual nomination of, its magistracy,—who is regularly to be 
 seen at every cock-pit within his reach, fighting the most brutish and 
 desperate mains, and betting on their event, in the most hail-fellow- 
 well-met familiarity, with some of the greatest blacklegs and black¬ 
 guards in the kingdom. Some years ago, a legal friend of ours, in 
 another part of the country than that to which we have just alluded, 
 happening to be attending a court of quarter session as an advocate, 
 during the race week, in the town where those sessions were held, 
 dined"at the ordinary, where a magistrate of the county, who had not 
 even shewn himself in court, asked him, if he had been at the cock¬ 
 pit. “ No, indeed, I have not/' replied our friend, “ for I have been 
 very differently engaged, in drawing an indictment against some 
 people for cock-fighting." “ For cock-fighting!" exclaimed the ex¬ 
 pounder of the law, with mingled astonishment and alarm, (for his 
 morning had been devoted to the cock-pit, rather than to the court, 
 where the business was adjourned to the morrow for want of justices,) 
 « and do you mean to say that cock-fighting is illegal?" “ To be 
 sure I do," replied the barrister, “ and if you will do us the honour 
 to attend at the next quarter sessions, you may assist in sentencing 
 the people w ho have been guilty of it, to fine and imprisonment for 
 their offence."— Edit. 
 
 t This, as our readers will perceive from another article in the 
 
40 
 
 The Mischievous Effects of Gaming. 
 
 The sixth section,'after declaring that the various descrip¬ 
 tions of gaining mentioned in the act, are frequently pro¬ 
 moted and held at public-houses, or near them, imposes a 
 penalty of fourteen dollars, and a loss of license for one 
 year, upon every tavern-keeper, who shall promote any thing 
 of the kind, or shall furnish drink to persons so employed, 
 or shall allow any sort of gaming for money, or other valuable 
 consideration, in his dwelling-house, or in any out-house 
 belonging to him. In case of a second offence, he is subject 
 to a fine of twenty-eight dollars, and is rendered for ever 
 incapable of keeping a tavern in the state of Pennsylvania. 
 
 The seventh section, still keeping in view taverns as the 
 grand theatre of gaming, forbids billiard-tables, E O tables, 
 ox other devices being kept in public-houses, for the purpose 
 of playing for money, on pain of forfeiting the instrument of 
 such play, and the sum of twenty-six dollars. 
 
 By the subsequent provisions of this law, a person losing 
 money, or other valuable thing, at any of the games speci¬ 
 fied in the act, shall not be obliged to pay, or make good 
 the same, or to discharge any security given therefore. And 
 even if the loser has actually paid the money, or delivered 
 the article to the winner, he may sue within ten days, and 
 recover the same back again. 
 
 This, gentlemen, is a brief, but correct summary of our laws 
 upon the subject of gaming, made for the best purposes, and 
 with the best intentions. And thus anxiously and benevolently 
 have the legislature of our country endeavoured to extirpate 
 the evil, root and branch. You will, however, perceive, 
 they have not prohibited playing merely for amusement at 
 any of the games specified ; not even horse-racing, where 
 amusement is the only object. It is only when money, or 
 anv thing of value, is played for, that it is absolutely for¬ 
 bidden. 
 
 And now, gentlemen, let us pause a few moments, and 
 seriously ask ourselves this single question—Is it our duty, 
 as good citizens, to yield obedience to this law of our coun¬ 
 try, or is it not? 
 
 Many persons, I well know', are ready at once to exclaim, 
 
 present number of our work, is an offence punishable by law in most 
 of the United States. In England it is not so, save where the race is 
 run for a less sum than £50, in which case, the owner of every horse 
 running, is, by 13 Geo. II. c. 19. subjected to a penalty of £200; and 
 every person advertising such race, to a penalty of half the amount. 
 Newmarket and Blackhambleton courses are, however, expressly 
 excepted from the operation of an act, which legalizes this species of 
 gaming upon a larger, by suppressing it on a smaller scale.— Edit. 
 
41 
 
 The Mischievous Ejects of Gaming. 
 
 the law is foolish and absurd, and we are resolved to treat 
 it as such a law deserves to be treated, with contempt and 
 neglect. 
 
 Waving* for the present any inquiry into the merits or pro¬ 
 priety of the law, we proceed to observe, that conduct of 
 this sort strikes at the very root of government, inasmuch 
 as it makes our obedience depend not upon the law itself, 
 and its binding force upon constitutional principles, but on 
 the opinion a man may form of its wisdom or expediency — 
 which in effect is to assert, that private judgment shall 
 defeat public authority, should they happen to clash with 
 each other. The legislature have decided the point, that 
 gaming is injurious to the social and moral interests of our 
 country: and to this decision every citizen is bound re¬ 
 spectfully to submit, unless he means to set himself up 
 above the government in all those cases where they differ in 
 opinion. Laws, in their very nature, are intended to operate 
 as restraints upon the will and inclination. But this can 
 never happen, if certain propensities and attachments are 
 admitted to be good reasons for not yielding obedience to 
 them. In fact, this would set mankind free from all law 
 whatever. The gambler reprobates the law against gaming, 
 because it interferes with his habits and his passions, and 
 insists there is no harm in it. All he asks is, that he may 
 be indulged in disobedience to the law in this single point, 
 and he is willing to behave as a good citizen in every other 
 respect. Why, gentlemen, this is the very language of the 
 thief and the highwayman. They, like the gambler, only 
 plead an exemption in behalf of that vice to which they have 
 the strongest attachment, and which affords them the greatest 
 pleasure. It is well known, the common swearer, the adul¬ 
 terer, the slanderer, and the wicked of every other class and 
 description, shelter themselves behind the same excuse, viz. 
 that their vices are harmless, and they have a particular 
 fondness for them. 
 
 To reconcile us further to the obedience of this law, it 
 should be remembered, that it is not the imperious mandate 
 of an arbitrary monarch, or an edict of the dark age of igno¬ 
 rance and superstition, but the law of a free people, passed 
 by one of the most enlightened governments upon earth— 
 a law flowing from the deliberate act of our own representa¬ 
 tives, selected from every part of the state for the sole pur¬ 
 pose of legislation. In our republican governments, he only 
 is a good citizen who obeys all the laws—those he dislikes, 
 as well as those that meet his approbation. Upon the 
 
42 The Mischievous Effects of Gaming. 
 
 ground of obedience, he makes no distinction. Convinced 
 that even the best government requires a constant sacrifice 
 of the will of one part of society to that of the other, he is 
 ready on all occasions to take up his cross and follow his 
 country. Obedience indeed is a very easy thing when it 
 falls in with our particular habits and views, and in such 
 cases there is no danger the law will prove a “ stone of 
 stumbling, and rock of offence.” But what sort of a citizen 
 is that man, who obeys only those laws which please his 
 humour or his taste, and deliberately violates those he dis¬ 
 approves ? I will venture boldly to assert, a person of this 
 description has not a single drop of federal or republican 
 blood in his veins, or benevolence in his heart—did he 
 possess a particle of either, he would cheerfully acquiesce 
 in every law that has any tendency to promote the general 
 good. If I were asked, what is the first part of the duty of 
 a good citizen? I would say, o/Wience. If I were asked, 
 what is the second part ? I would say, obedience. If I were 
 asked, what is the third part? I would reply, obedience. In 
 short, it is the very essence and consummation of the cha¬ 
 racter of a good citizen in a republican government. We 
 are told, that in the school of Pythagoras, his autos ephe, 
 that is, his bare opinion, was deemed such decisive evidence 
 of truth as to adjust every controversy that arose among his 
 captious and disputing pupils. Such precisely should be 
 the profound respect paid to the laws in our government. 
 “ It is the law ; the legislature have said so”—should 
 silence every objection, stop every mouth, and restrain 
 every hand and foot. Has the law, for example, said. 
 Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in 
 vain, or swear by any other name or thing? he that trans¬ 
 gresses it, is neither a good citizen nor a good man. Has 
 the law said, T hou shalt do no unnecessary work, nor 
 practise any sport or diversion on Sunday ? He that offends 
 in those instances, against both heaven and earth, is a bad 
 citizen, and a bad man. I speak plainly, gentlemen. In 
 defending the laws of God, and my country,! am not to be 
 deterred by the censures of any man, or set of men, from 
 using any language, or freedom of speech, not inconsistent 
 with truth and decency. I therefore repeat, that a person 
 who breaks the laws of God and man, can have no better 
 pretensions to the character of a virtuous good citizen, than 
 the felonious robber on the highway. They both submit to 
 the law T s in general, and the highwayman, like the gambler, 
 only breaks them where they oppose his favourite pursuit, 
 
Museum Hours. 
 
 43 
 
 which is just the case with every other immoral man. They 
 are both bad citizens, though there may be a difference in 
 the nature and degree of their crimes. 
 
 In estimating the character of a man as a citizen , it is his 
 conduct only that is decisive evidence for or against him. 
 Professions are of no sort of consequence. What would it 
 signify for a person boldly to assert he was an honest man, 
 while he was notoriously addicted to lying and stealing? 
 or to take an oath of fidelity to government, while he was 
 in open arms against it? Equally absurd and ridiculous is 
 it to talk of patriots and good citizens, where the life and 
 practice are in any respect at war with the laws of our coun¬ 
 try ; and they are treated with insolence and contempt, for no 
 other reason, but because they happen not to accord with 
 the selfish views of one man, or the vicious and abandoned 
 inclinations of another. 
 
 Both in religion and patriotism, obedience constitutes the 
 unerring touchstone of sincerity. It is the principle that 
 tries the spirit of a man, and draws an infallible line of dis¬ 
 tinction between the hypocritical pretender on the one 
 hand, and the genuine friend of virtue, religion, and his 
 country, on the other. 
 
 Upon the whole, Gentlemen, obedience was made for man 
 by his Creator, and man was made for obedience. It is the 
 influence of this principle, diffused through all the works of 
 God, that supports the universe, and maintains perfect 
 harmony in his boundless dominions. It was disobedience 
 hurled the apostate angels from heaven; and disobedience 
 to his law is, at this moment, the cause of all the vice, war, 
 and confusion, that agitate and convulse this unhappy globe, 
 on which it is our lot to reside. Order is heaven’s first 
 law, and should be the first law of earth. Universal 
 obedience to his infinitely holy and unerring laws, is neces¬ 
 sarily productive of universal order—and universal order is 
 necessarily productive of universal happiness. 
 
 MUSEUM HOURS, No. I. 
 
 Reading Rooms of the British Museum—their Regulations 
 and Attendants — History , Condition, and Contents oj the 
 Cottonian Library of Manuscripts. 
 
 The Reading-room of the British Museum is one of those 
 scenes of quiet literary labour, into which the crowd of idly 
 curious visitors, who flock there three times a week to see 
 
44 
 
 Museum Hours. 
 
 the curiosities and monstrosities of the other departments 
 of this national institution, are not permitted to intrude. 
 On the public days, (that is, with the exception of holidays, 
 and the summer, or rather the autumnal vacation of two 
 months, on every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday of the 
 year,) the student in the gallery of antiquities, or half cellar 
 and half barn-like building, in which the Elgin marbles are 
 deposited, is interrupted in his pursuits by those impertinent 
 gazings of idle saunterers through these receptacles of clas¬ 
 sical fragments and vestiges of all times, for which our coun¬ 
 trymen and countrywomen are so universally distinguish¬ 
 ed. As we have occasionally escorted some of our country 
 friends to see, amongst the other lions of the metropolis, 
 these antiquities, which it is infinitely more disgraceful not 
 to have visited, than not to know a syllable more of their 
 history, or that of the persons or scenes which they repre¬ 
 sent, than does each lifeless statue of its silent and senseless 
 neighbour, we have blushed for the rudeness of many of the 
 company, whose dress at least indicated that they ought to 
 have known better, in staring over the shoulder of a nmdest 
 and unassuming artist, at the copy he is engaged in making 
 of some statues, at which it would have been at least as 
 modest in the female gazers not to have looked at all, either 
 in the original or imitation. Once or twice, indeed, we have 
 been seriously alarmed, lest a young student, perched upon 
 two boards loosely placed one upon the other, and scarcely 
 tall enough, with this assistance, (the best, it is to be pre¬ 
 sumed, that the institution can afford him,) to reach the top 
 of his outstretched canvass, should be tumbled to the oround 
 by the rude jostling of some little curious urchin against 
 his ticklish standing-place, whilst plucking the tail of his or 
 her equally curious mamma, to ask, “ what that little boy is 
 about with the long; stick in his hand?” or to exclaim, “ La, 
 Ma, what a funny face that man is painting, do but look at 
 himand the mother, who ought to correct such imperti¬ 
 nence, accordingly looks, wonders, and admires with equal 
 rudeness as her hopeful ill-mannerly child. Thus much, 
 by way of contrast, for the reading-rooms happily exhibit, in 
 most respects, a striking contrast to this lamentable want of 
 politeness, no where more strongly exhibited than in those 
 public spectacles to which the English are indiscriminately 
 admitted. To the reading-rooms, (for a second has lately- 
 been added, though as yet it scarcely has been used,) none 
 are admitted but those who have tickets granted them, 
 renewable every six months, on the recommendation of a 
 
Museum Hours. 
 
 45 
 
 trustee or officer of the institution; a restriction, it is appre¬ 
 hended, which can scarcely exclude from them any one to 
 whom the facilities to study and literary research which 
 they afford, can be a real benefit, as few such men of any 
 respectability are without the means of obtaining an intro¬ 
 duction to at least one of these noblemen or gentlemen, 
 from forty to fifty in number, and who evince the great¬ 
 est readiness in forwarding the wishes of proper applicants. 
 In France, we know, and in many parts of the continent also, 
 no such introduction is needed, but the public repositories 
 of literature are thrown open to every person who wishes to 
 consult them; and much popular clamour has been excited 
 here, by complaints against the illiberality which prevents 
 the adoption of a similar course in England. That clamour 
 is, however, most unjust—the practice it would force upon 
 the trustees of this national institution, most impracticable; 
 and that we hesitate not to say, because the difference of 
 national character, or rather perhaps of the populace, in 
 England and on the continent, renders that liberality safe in 
 the one instance, which would be destructive of the safety 
 of the collection in the other. Yielding to none in genuine 
 patriotism, we are yet sufficiently citizens of the world to 
 avow our honest conviction, that the English ought not to be 
 admitted indiscriminately, or even where respectability of 
 appearance is the only passport, to the various monuments 
 of their own national munificence. We appeal, in support 
 of our assertion, to the names scratched, sometimes in pen¬ 
 cil, sometimes with knives, over the monuments in West¬ 
 minster Abbey and St. Paul’s Cathedral, and the books, 
 which, with all the caution that can be exercised by officers 
 of societies where the admission is select, have either been 
 taken away altogether, or materially injured by the abstrac¬ 
 tion of plates or leaves in the London, the British, and other 
 of our literary institutions. No one can indeed have been 
 long a subscriber even to a circulating library, without 
 having had occasion to blush for the character of his coun¬ 
 trymen, in the necessity which exists for the proprietors to 
 damage their property by stamping their names, &c. upon 
 the front of every plate, with which the books in their col¬ 
 lection are illustrated or ornamented, that by being rendered 
 thus useless to collectors, they may escape being stolen, 
 as would otherwise be their inevitable fate. We indeed 
 ourselves recollect being exceedingly mortified at finding a 
 volume of Pennant’s works, belonging to a very valuable 
 set, in one of the first libraries in the metropolis, despoiled 
 
46 
 
 Museum Hours. 
 
 of every plate, which the thief had been at so much trouble 
 in cutting out, that a part of the paper on which they were 
 worked was left as a frame, to prevent the book from appear¬ 
 ing thinner than when it was taken from the library, or the 
 librarian from discovering that any plate had been stolen, 
 unless he had minutely examined the volume for the very 
 purpose. Nay, it is a matter of public notoriety, that one of 
 the librarians of this very institution, now no more an 
 inhabitant of a world which his writings and learning con¬ 
 tributed at once to instruct and adorn, was dismissed from 
 his situation, in consequence of felonies and depredations 
 committed by some persons, of no mean reputation in the 
 literary circles, upon valuable prints and manuscripts which 
 he had permitted them to have access to at their own 
 houses, contrary to the rules of the Museum. ~ 
 
 Thus far in vindication of a restriction, the benefit of 
 which is daily experienced by those who have occasion 
 to make researches in the room, in which you will con¬ 
 stantly find a great variety of characters labouring for 
 the public, or for their own amusement and improvement, 
 in the different departments of literature, to which taste, 
 inclination, or circumstances may have directed them. 
 Here you will see the zealous and laborious antiquary 
 rummaging amongst charters and musty parchments, for the 
 authentication, it may be, of a date, of as little importance, 
 but to his brethren, as that of the day on which King John 
 shewed the first epicurean attachment to lampreys, by 
 which, it is said, England was eventually ridden at once of 
 a tyrant and a fool. There, a second member of the same inde¬ 
 fatigable fraternity, is as attentively engaged ina microscopic 
 comparison of the seal of an old charter with the copy 
 which he has taken of it, scrupulously anxious that not a 
 letter should be straighter or more crooked than the vene¬ 
 rable original of some mitred bigot, who fattened, lived 
 riotously, and fared sumptuously every day, upon the revenues 
 of a church, which he disgraced at once by his ignorance 
 and his pride. The neatly folded manuscript that lies 
 beside him, gives, however, an importance to his employ¬ 
 ment, in as much as it authorizes the hope that he may be 
 about to add another effort to complete the series of our 
 county histories, which the ill-requited toil of such Hercu¬ 
 lean labours still leaves lamentably deficient. For our own 
 parts, we have not viewed with equal complacency, the 
 numerous tribe of heraldic draftsmen and genealogy hun¬ 
 ters, who are at work early and late, day after day, and week 
 
Museum Hours. 
 
 47 
 
 succeeding week, to ascertain whether some thick-headed 
 ancestor of as thick-headed a squire, bore for his arms a 
 lion rampant, or demi-rampant only; or whether as great a 
 fool, though bearing a title which he disgraced, gave, some 
 five hundred years ago, the name of John or Thomas to 
 his first-born booby and eldest son, or took a Mary or Catha¬ 
 rine for his wife. Generally speaking, the men engaged in 
 these edifying pursuits are evidently labouring in their 
 vocation, and for hire; thankful, therefore, that their lot is 
 not ours, we pity them, and let them pass. Now and then, 
 however, during the sitting of Parliament, we have seen the 
 room graced by the presence of some man of title and of 
 family, determined to trust to no one but himself, the task 
 of making out a pedigree, than which his manner plainly 
 shews that nothing can in his estimation be of equal im¬ 
 portance, save perhaps it be that of his race-horses and his 
 dogs. 
 
 By the side of such a self-important idler, (for such in 
 truth he is, though busy as a bee,) will perhaps be seated 
 some toilsome labourer in the field of literature, in which 
 both his person and his coat evince that he is well-nigh 
 worn out, ere he has gained from its cultivation a reasonable 
 certainty of where he can get his next day’s dinner, or how 
 long he may hardly earn his daily bread. Every thing 
 bespeaks in him his having at length sunk to that most 
 hapless condition into which a man of letters can fall; 
 (perhaps, indeed, he never had talents or opportunity to rise 
 above it,) and we have hardly been able to suppress the wish, 
 that he speedily might have applied to himself the epitaph 
 of Goldsmith upon poor Ned Purdon, a wretched member 
 of a tribe, upon whose miseries that charming writer full 
 feelingly could speak,—who 
 
 ---“ from misery freed, 
 
 Was no longer a bookseller’s hack; 
 
 For he had such a horrible life in this world, 
 
 That he never could wish to come back.” 
 
 He is probably a death-hunter, a chronicler of births and 
 marriages for magazines and annual registers—as the lady 
 who has taken her seat opposite to him, undaunted, in the 
 zeal of her pursuit of learning, by being surrounded by forty 
 or fifty gentlemen, herself the only female in the room, may 
 peradventure be the concoctor of some new historical ro¬ 
 mance, for the incidents of which she is spoiling the pithy but 
 obsolete historians of the olden time. Admiring her literary 
 
48 
 
 Museum Hours. 
 
 turn, we have sometimes wished that proper accommodations 
 were afforded in a separate room for female readers; and we 
 doubt not, but that a portion of the leisure which so many of 
 the sex enjoy, and waste in fashionable triflings, would, then, 
 at least for themselves, be more profitably devoted to the 
 improvement of their minds, in a place affording such faci¬ 
 lities for the purpose. Biographers, historians, lawyers, 
 medical students, lexicographers, poets, translators, and we 
 know not what besides, make up the group of those who 
 here quietly and patiently collect the materials for works, 
 which may hereafter purchase for some of them a deathless 
 immortality—to others, the vexation of neglect—for some 
 again, the mortification of their vanity, in a merited exposure 
 of their incapacity for the task they undertook. But be¬ 
 sides these working-bees, this hive contains several who are 
 but sipping the dew from every flower, to form their honey 
 at a future day—young students in every profession, laud¬ 
 ably preparing themselves for distinction'in the discharge of 
 their duties, by recondite researches not elsewhere to be 
 pursued, and which none but persons, bent, like themselves, 
 on excellence, pursue at all. It has also here and there an 
 idle drone—men evidently availing themselves of a gratui¬ 
 tous admission to this ample storehouse of learning and of 
 literature, to pass away their time by turning over the pages 
 of the last new pamphlet, or reading through the most 
 popular novel of the day. These are confessedly few in 
 number, and may be known by their poring over the cata¬ 
 logues as a gourmand ponders over his bill of fare, puzzled 
 what to fix upon, because they have no definite object of 
 pursuit. Half their time is occupied in observing others 
 more busy than themselves; and we have even known 
 some of them evince so little regard to politeness, as 
 to take up the books lying by the side of another gentle¬ 
 man, evidently to ascertain w r hat he was about. They 
 occupy, too, the seats nearest the fire, in front of which 
 they will sometimes sit and lounge with so little considera¬ 
 tion for the comfort of others, as to requirea very broad hint 
 from the librarian, who is in constant attendance in the 
 room, that gentlemen at the lower end of the table may be 
 cold as well as themselves. Several of these are dandies and 
 dandizets, animals who, some how or other, have intruded 
 themselves into every circle; but some are older and graver 
 men, from whom better manners might reasonably have been 
 expected. 
 
 With the exception, however, of their rudenesses, and 
 
 tip 
 
Museum Hours. 
 
 49 
 
 the occasional breach of decorum in some one or two men, of 
 great importance in their own estimation, talking to the 
 servants of the institution, who bring them the books for 
 which they write, or to their personal friends, in as loud a 
 tone as they would in their own parlour, or to their footmen, 
 if they have either, (which, by the w r ay, their gross want of 
 common politeness would induce us to suppose is not the 
 case,) every thing is usually conducted here with the 
 greatest regularity and decorum, in strict accordance with 
 the rule of the institution, which requires silence in a place 
 devoted to study. Once indeed, and once only, do we 
 recollect to have witnessed any continued and unrepressed 
 breach of so essential a regulation; and in the midst of the 
 interruption it occasioned us in our recondite pursuits, 
 we could not repress a smile at its cause, which was 
 the pacing of the reading-room in its length and breadth, 
 for some ten or a dozen minutes, by a certain eccentric 
 bard of the last generation, at least as'distinguished for dirt 
 as for genius, for the shabbiness of his dress and his singular 
 outre appearance, as the extent of his attainments,—the 
 poet s eye, in the meanwhile, in so fine a frenzy rolling, as to 
 render him totally unobservant alike of the frowns and the 
 smiles which every other countenance exhibited, during 
 the continuance of his fervid locomotion. 
 
 Enough, however, of sketches of men and manners, that 
 may induce our brother readers to suppose, that we intend 
 to adopt the very appropriate motto of Maister Jedediah 
 Cleishbotham, schoolmaster and parish-clerk of Gander- 
 cleugh, to the inimitable tales which the master-genius of 
 our times has done him the honour of fathering upon him, 
 
 “ A chiefs amang ye takin notes, 
 
 An’ faith he’ll prent it.” 
 
 Pass we on now, therefore, to a brief account of the various 
 collections of manuscripts and printed books, to which the 
 student has, in these rooms, the freest and readiest access, 
 and from which (as they come in our way, in the course of 
 the more regular pursuits that have long led us here,) we 
 purpose, either by extracts or otherwise, to give our readers, 
 under the title of “ Museum Hours,” some such occasional 
 articles, as may enable them to pass away a few of their own 
 hours with pleasure, and we hope, at times, with profit also. 
 
 The first of these, in point, perhaps at once of antiquity 
 and importance, is, the Cottonian Library, the manuscripts 
 of which are deposited in twenty-one presses, in the same 
 
 VOL. VIII.—no. 1. e 
 
50 
 
 Museum Hours. 
 
 room with those of the Royal Library. It is on the second 
 floor of the building, and the public have access to it, 
 on account of the great curiosity it contains, in the 
 original copy of Magna Charta, secured in a glazed frame, 
 on a table in the centre, with the well-known fac-simile of 
 Pine by its side. Here also, against one of the presses, is 
 exhibited to public inspection, the original of the articles 
 agreed upon by the barons, preparatory 10 the signing of 
 the great charter, perfect both in the instrument itself and 
 its seal. This valuable document formed, however, no part 
 of either of the collections of ms. deposited here, but was 
 presented to the Museum in 1769, by Earl Stanhope. 
 
 Few of our readers will need to be reminded, that the 
 first of these collections was formed by the industry and 
 perseverance of Sir Robert Cottorl, the friend and fellow- 
 traveller of the celebrated Camden, who, living shortly after 
 the dissolution of monasteries, the visitation of our univer¬ 
 sities, colleges, and schools, and surviving also such indefa¬ 
 tigable collectors of antiquities, as Joceline, Noel, Lam- 
 barde, Bowyer, Elsinge, and Camden, from whose libraries, 
 either by legacy or purchase, he selected their choicest 
 treasures, had every opportunity his laudable curio¬ 
 sity could desire, of forming a collection of chronicles, 
 charterlaries, and other muniments of the dissolved houses, 
 which have since proved an invaluable treasure to the 
 historian and the antiquary, and been of little less utility 
 in the ascertainment and settlement of private rights. 
 This collection was so highly valued, even in the lifetime 
 of its founder, that in the arbitrary times of the Stuarts and 
 the star-chamber, its public-spirited collector had the morti¬ 
 fication of being excluded from his own library, by an order 
 of the privy council, for the locking of it up, on the ground 
 that its contents were of too great public importance to be 
 exposed, as Sir Robert permitted it to be, to any.one who 
 wished to consult it; in consequence of which liberality, it 
 was alleged, that in the time of James the First, some valu¬ 
 able state papers had been conmiunicated to the Spanish 
 ambassador, who had caused them to be translated into his 
 native tongue. On this latter account. Sir Robert was 
 himself imprisoned, though it would seem but for a short 
 time, and on his release, the interdict was taken off" which 
 most unconstitutionally prevented his reading his own books, 
 or entering his study. Fourteen years after, it was, however, 
 renewed with increased severity, for a pamphlet having 
 been circulated in ms. in 1629, under the title of “ A 
 
 
Museum Hours. 
 
 51 
 
 Project how a Prince may make himself an absolute 
 Tyrant;” it was traced to the Cottonian library, into which 
 it appeared to have found admission, without the knowledge 
 of its owner, as a tract, written at Florence in 1613, by the Duke 
 of Northumberland, under the less exceptionable title of 
 “ Propositions for his Majesty’s Service, to bridle the Imper- 
 tinency of Parliaments,” and having been discovered there 
 by some persons, to whom access to the collection had been 
 granted, with its proprietor’s accustomed liberality, (and there 
 is room for suspicion that the celebrated Selden was one of 
 them, for a copy seems to have been found upon him,) a bribe 
 to a faithless librarian had procured permission to take two or 
 three copies of it, which were handed about, under a title that 
 never belonged to it. For this. Sir Robert was a second 
 time taken into custody, but being able soon to establish 
 his own innocence in the transaction, even to the satisfaction 
 of the odious inquisition of the star-chamber, before which 
 he was brought, he was released, although, under the old 
 pretext of his library not being of a nature to be exposed to 
 public inspection, it was a second time placed under seques¬ 
 tration, being sealed up by some of the officers of the royal 
 household, under whose vigilant surveillance it remained 
 until the death of its ill-used collector. That death hap¬ 
 pened in 1631, nearly two years after he had been thus un¬ 
 justly and tyrannically excluded from the use of those 
 literary treasures which he had spent his life in amassing, 
 and for which, though he could scarcely set a value upon 
 them beyond their intrinsic worth, he felt all the attach¬ 
 ment of a scholar to his books, and a collector to a 
 collection, unique, as it was curious and extensive. Few 
 things, indeed, can be more interesting or affecting to minds 
 imbued with the love of letters, than the simple narrative 
 given by his brother antiquary, Sir Symonds D’Ewes, of the 
 effect produced upon the mind and health of this distin¬ 
 guished lover and friend of literature, by his being excluded 
 from his wonted sources of enjoyment. “When,” says the 
 annalist of Elizabeth, in a ms. account of his own life, still 
 preserved in the same national repository which contains 
 the rich collection of the friend whom he wished to console, 
 
 “ I went several times to visit and comfort him in the year 
 1630, he would tell me ‘ they had broken his heart, that had 
 locked up his library from him.’ I easily guessed the 
 reason, because his honour and esteem were much impaired 
 by this fatal accident; and his house, that was formerly 
 frequented by great and honourable personages, as by 
 
52 
 
 Museum Hours. 
 
 learned men of all sorts, remained now upon the matter, 
 desolate and empty. He was so outworn within a few 
 months, with anguish and grief, as his face, which had been 
 formerly ruddy and well-coloured, (such as the picture I 
 have of him shews,) was wholly changed into a green- 
 blackish paleness, near to the resemblance and hue of a 
 dead visage.” Thus he pined and wasted away, dying as 
 clearly broken-hearted, for the loss of his books, as ever did 
 the most devoted lover, or the fondest wife, for husband, or 
 for mistress, however bitterly regretted or tenderly beloved. 
 This, indeed, is not matter of inference, but of fact, for on 
 his death-bed he directed his friend. Sir Henry Spelman, 
 celebrated alike as an antiquary and a jurist, to inform the 
 lords of the council, that “ their so long detaining of his 
 books from him, without rendering any reason for the same, 
 had been the cause of his mental malady.” This touching 
 message was immediately delivered, and wrought in those 
 whose conduct had given occasion to it, an unavailing 
 repentance; for when the lord privy seal came to comfort 
 the dying man with a message from the king, he found that 
 he was half an hour too late, as the victim of the tyranny 
 of the council was no more; and all he could do was, to 
 assure his weeping son, that, as the king had loved his 
 father, so he would continue to love him. 
 
 He gave not, however, very early tokens of that love, of 
 a less equivocal description than those which had brought 
 the former object of its caprices in sorrow to the grave; 
 for although its late possessor had entailed his library upon 
 his heir, who also was his only son, the sequestration of it 
 was still continued with unabated rigour, until, upon a 
 petition being presented, stating, that his study had long 
 been, and yet w as locked up, and he himself denied the use 
 of the books it contained, though all of them were his 
 undoubted property, it was restored to Sir Thomas Cotton, 
 the collector’s son, w r ho continued in quiet possession of it 
 to the day of his death, which happened in the year 1662. 
 During the convulsion of the civil wars, in which, after the 
 success of the parliament, and the overthrow of the monar¬ 
 chical, and the establishment of a republican government, all 
 documents relative to the constitution and laws of the 
 country were industriously sought after and destroyed, it 
 
 was carefully removed, principally by the zeal of- 
 
 Bromsall, Esq. of Blunham, high-sheriff of the county of 
 Bedford, in 1650, for the preservation of so inestimable a 
 treasure, to Stratton, in that county, where it was kept in a 
 
Museum Hours. 
 
 53 
 
 house of the eldest son of its possessor, (afterwards Sir John 
 Cotton,) who had married Dorothy, daughter of Edmund 
 Anderson, Esq. of that place. 
 
 By him, as had previously been the case with his father. 
 Sir Thomas also, this collection was greatly enlarged, 
 and ten years before his death, its value was so duly esti¬ 
 mated by the government and legislature, that, on his 
 expressing a wish to carry into effect the liberal and public- 
 spirited desire and intention of his father and his grand¬ 
 father, to have it preserved for the use of the nation, under 
 the name of the Cottonian Library, an act of parliament 
 (12 and 13 W. III. c. 7.) was passed in 1700, “ for the better 
 settling and preserving of the library, (described in the 
 preamble to the act, as ‘ of great use and service for the 
 knowledge and preservation of our constitution both in 
 church and state,’) kept in the house at Westminster, called 
 Cotton House, in the name and family of the Cottons, for 
 the benefit of the public.” Sir John Cotton, the donor of 
 this splendid gift to the country, died in 1702, when, in 
 pursuance of the provisions of this act, the Library was 
 vested in trustees, namely, in the Lord Chancellor or Keeper, 
 the Chief Justice of the Court of King’s Bench, and the 
 Speaker of the House of Commons, for the time being, and four 
 of the Cotton family, named in the act, whose places w-ere, 
 from time to time, to be supplied by the heir male in posses¬ 
 sion of the house in which the library was to be preserved, 
 in the custody of a keeper, for the use of the public, who 
 were to have convenient access to the room in which it was 
 deposited. At Cotton House, situate at the back of the 
 House of Commons, and still preserving its name, although 
 long since converted into a residence for the chief-clerk of 
 the House, the library remained in this state for between 
 three and four years, when, in consequence of a report of 
 Matthew Hutton, John Anstis, and Humphrey Wanley, the 
 three most celebrated antiquaries of their day, who, on that 
 account, were appointed to inspect the collection, which 
 they certified to be ill arranged, partly in decay, and not 
 kept in a place calculated for its preservation, another act 
 of parliament was passed, (5 Anne, c. 30.) “ for the better 
 securing of her Majesty’s purchase of Cotton House in 
 Westminster.” That purchase had been previously effected 
 for the sum of £4500, and provision was now made by the 
 legislature for the erection of “ a convenient library in the 
 house,” to “ the intent so great a treasure of books and 
 manuscripts, so generously given for the public service, 
 
•54 
 
 Museum Hours. 
 
 might not remain any longer useless, and in danger ol perish¬ 
 ing for want of due care, and that it may be in her Majesty s 
 power to make this most valuable collection useful to her 
 own subjects, and to all learned strangers.” 
 
 Five years after the passing of this act, the library, 
 whether whilst a new building was to be prepared for its 
 reception, or with what other view is not now known, was 
 removed to Essex House, in Essex-street, in the Strand, 
 where it remained from the year 1712 to 1729, when it was 
 deposited in Ashburnham House, in Little Dean’s-Yard, 
 purchased by the Crown of Lord Ashburnham; and here, 
 shortly after its removal, namely, on the morning of the 23d 
 of October, 1731, a fire broke out, which destroyed seve¬ 
 ral, and damaged many of the manuscripts, and amongst 
 the latter the celebrated original of Magna Charta, which 
 bears evident marks of the injury it has sustained. The 
 whole collection would, in all human probability, have 
 perished, but for the great exertions made to save as much 
 of it as possible from the flames, especially by Mr. Speaker 
 Onslow, who repaired immediately to the spot, and per¬ 
 sonally assisted in rescuing from the fire, the manuscripts, 
 of which he was then an official trustee. Such of them 
 as could be saved from the devouring element, (and not a 
 quarter of the collection w 7 as materially injured by its rava¬ 
 ges, 114 out of 958 volumes being destroyed, and 98 consi¬ 
 derably damaged,) were immediately removed, at the solici¬ 
 tation of the trustees, and by permission of the dean and 
 chapter, into a room intended for the dormitory of Westmin¬ 
 ster school. The former took also, without delay, the most 
 efficient steps in their power, to repair, as far as it was repar¬ 
 able, the serious injury which this valuable national collec¬ 
 tion had sustained; and their laudable object was most 
 cordially seconded by the House of Commons, to which, in 
 little more than six months after the accident, namely, on the 
 9th of May, 1732, a report was made by a committee of its 
 members appointed for the purpose, on the damage done by 
 the fire, and the remedies which had been proposed, giving, 
 by way of appendix, an accurate account of the mss. 
 wholly destroyed or materially injured, in order that persons 
 possessed of copies of them might have an opportunity of 
 contributing to the reparation of the loss by communicating 
 their transcripts. 
 
 The library does not appear to have been again removed, 
 until the year 1753, when, on the formation of the British 
 Museum, in consequence of the will of Sir Hans Sloane, 
 
Museum Hours. 
 
 55 
 
 it was, by direction of the act of parliament passed for its 
 regulation, removed to the new national establishment, two 
 trustees, nominated in succession by the representatives of 
 the Cotton family, being thereby for ever added to those 
 appointed by the act for carrying its provisions into execu¬ 
 tion. Of that family, the male line has long since been 
 extinct, the elder branch in 1731, with Sir John Cotton, 
 Bart., the great-great-grandson of Sir Robert, who then 
 died without issue; the younger in 1752, with his first 
 cousin. Sir John Cotton, Bart, (standing in the same degree 
 of kindred to the founder with the other Sir John, through 
 the second son of the donor of the library,) who left issue 
 but a daughter, married to one of the respectable and 
 literary family of the Bowdlers. The representative of the 
 elder branch was, until lately, Francis Annesley, Esq. LL.D. 
 M.P. for Reading, who, through his great-grandmother, the 
 daughter of Sir George Downing, and wife of John the 
 great-grandson of Sir Robert Cotton, had also the singular 
 good fortune to be the representative of the founder of 
 Downing College, Cambridge, of which he was the first 
 master. He was himself one of the family trustees. Those 
 now acting, are G. B. Tyndale, Esq. and the Rev. Arthur 
 Annesley. 
 
 Of this collection, three catalogues have been printed; 
 the first, in Latin, by Dr. Thomas Smith, in the yea? 1696, 
 eight years before Sir John Cotton had given it to the 
 nation: this is a folio volume of 236 pages. The second 
 was a neat 8vo. volume, printed by Samuel Hooper in 1777, 
 from manuscripts furnished by the celebrated Astle, con¬ 
 taining something like a systematic arrangement of Dr. 
 Smith’s catalogue, the corrections and additions of Mr. 
 Casley, printed in 1734, with a list of the destroyed and 
 damaged articles, as an appendix to his catalogue of the 
 Royal Library of manuscripts; and an alphabetical list of 
 the charters then first printed, from the original MS. of the 
 Rev. Mr. Widmore, who had for many years the care of 
 this inestimable collection. The third, and most ample, 
 which has indeed entirely superseded the others, is that 
 printed by command of his late Majesty, in consequence of 
 an address from the House of Commons, founded on a 
 recommendation of the Commissioners of Public Records, 
 from that prepared in 1793, and some following years, by 
 Joseph Planta, Esq., the historian of Switzerland, to whose 
 care the collection was confided, on its being deposited in the 
 Museum, as keeper of the manuscripts; an office from which 
 
56 
 
 Museum Hours. 
 
 he was removed, but to the chief librarianship of the insti¬ 
 tution, which he still fills, with equal credit to himself and 
 advantage to the public service and accommodation. For 
 the preparation ol that catalogue, he went most carefully 
 over the collection, reduced by the fire we have aroady noti¬ 
 ced, to 861 volumes, of which 105 were damaged bundles 
 preserved in cases. Of these, the public are 'most deeply 
 indebted to his skill and perseverance, for the restoration 
 of fifty-one, (even where, as is the case with several, parts 
 have been consumed or defaced by fire, so far as to give 
 much useful information,) which he directed to be bound up 
 in forty-four volumes. I he other sixty-one appeared to him 
 irretrievable, although our regret for their loss is consi¬ 
 derably lightened by the assurance of so competent a judge, 
 that they consist lor the most part of obscure tracts, and frag¬ 
 ments of little or no importance. r lhey are now contained 
 in 62 cases. The articles enumerated in Dr. Smith’s cata¬ 
 logue were about 6200, although Mr. Planta has extended 
 those of the remnant of a library then entire, to above four 
 times that number, an improvement mainly owing to most 
 of the 170 volumes of state papers and small detached tracts, 
 haying been enteied but once as single articles, whereas, in 
 point of fact, they consisted, on an average, of a hundred 
 distinct pieces at the least. He has also corrected several 
 errors of his predecessors, so gross, that besides ascribing to 
 Chaucer a volume of poems by Hampole and others, and enter¬ 
 ing Lydgate’s siege of Troy as an anonymous production 
 they give us Gomestor s Bible Historiaux as a common French 
 version of the Bible, and (worse and worse!) Marbodseus 
 Gemmis as a work of Evax, king of Arabia. Some of these 
 errors had not escaped the observation of other learned 
 men, who bitterly deplored the existence of such blunders 
 as greatly diminishing the utility of a catalogue, in which 
 accuracy is every thing; but although honest Humphrey 
 VVanley was so concerned at the misdescription of the 
 valuable Saxon manuscripts contained in this collection in 
 the catalogues extant in his time, as to publish a more cor¬ 
 rect one in the second volume of the Thesaurus of Dr 
 Hicks, whilst other antiquaries, from time to time, contri- 
 buteci their additions to a list of errors as absurd as they 
 
 ™ erous ' {t ™ as reserved the learning and industry 
 of Mr Phnta, to give to the world a reference to this splen¬ 
 did collection, which should make it really useful to those 
 vvho wish to consult it. By his direction, the volumes have 
 all been accurately repaged; and of the 26,000 articles 
 
Death of the Rev. Edward Williams, D.D. 
 
 57 
 
 which the library contains, he has given us a catalogue occu¬ 
 pying 708 large folio pages. In its compilation, he has 
 taken great and laudable pains to discover the real authors 
 of anonymous and pseudo-nonymous works, and to give 
 references to the books in which any of the manuscripts 
 have been printed. Dates of letters and state papers, 
 where, as was too often the case in the two last centuries, 
 the writers have omitted them, have also, as far as possible, 
 been inserted in the catalogue, in which even approxima¬ 
 tions have been given, with notes of interrogation affixed, 
 when the real date could not be discovered. The supposed 
 age of mss. previous to the 15th century, have also been 
 noticed in the same manner, wherever it could be ascertained 
 with any degree of probability. A full and accurate Index 
 of seventy-five pages, of three columns each, completes this 
 most useful catalogue of a library, richer than any other 
 which England, or probably the world, can boast, in 
 illustrations of the antiquities and early history of his coun¬ 
 try, to which it is the noble memorial of the learning and 
 munificence of its illustrious, but ill-requited founder. 
 
 V. 
 
 Account of the Death, and a List of the Works, of the Rev. 
 Edward Williams, D.D., late Theological Tutor in the 
 Independent College, Rotherham. The former contained in 
 a Letter from a Friend, to a near relative of the deceased. 
 
 You need not be informed, my dear-, that Dr.Williams 
 
 lived constantly as in the immediate view of eternity. 
 There never appeared to be a time, when he might not have 
 joyfully hailed the approach of the angel of death. So prac¬ 
 tically and effectually was he convinced, that infinite wis¬ 
 dom and boundless goodness superintend all things, that he 
 had no other will but that of God. His life was one most 
 active and undeviating aim to promote the divine glory. 
 Of such a man, the testimonies of a death-bed, so earnestly 
 sought after on other occasions, were not needed. His 
 death, be it what it might, could not speak so loudly, nor so 
 effectually, as his life. However, in this case, his death was 
 such as added a glorious emphasis to the language pro¬ 
 claimed by his life. The activity of his mind continued 
 unabated to the last day he was spared to his friends on 
 earth. It even seemed to have increased in the liveliness 
 of its conceptions, the rapidity of its movements, and the 
 intenseness of its ardour, during his last illness. He him- 
 
58 
 
 Death of the Rev. Edward Williams, D.D. 
 
 self was sensible, that his feeble nature was sinking under 
 the overpowering energy of the immortal part. “ One pre¬ 
 scription,” said he, “which would be most of all effectual, 
 none of you have thought of—to restrain the ardour of the 
 mind.” It was busily employed in devising plans for the 
 
 f ood of the church. To the last day of his leaving his 
 ed-room, he continued to employ his pen, as his strength 
 allowed, for its benefit. On the Wednesday before his 
 departure, I believe you know, the paroxysm of pain was 
 long and dreadful. He told me, the following morning, he 
 thought nature could not have sustained it. Ever after 
 this period, it became indispensably necessary that he 
 should be as still as possible. Few persons saw him, and 
 all interrogatories were studiously avoided. However, to 
 his dear wife he said, “ I am happy in God, but I cannot 
 talk and on a friend’s coming in, and asking him how he 
 was, he said most cheerfully, “ I am in the hands of a 
 sovereign God, and he will perfect that which concerns 
 me, and mine, and the church, and all His.*’ On another 
 occasion he observed—“ For some time, my mind has been 
 engaged about personal concerns, now it is taken up with 
 anxiety about God’s public glory, and the affairs of his 
 church; and this leads me to conjecture, he may have some¬ 
 thing more for me to do on earth.” “ Well,” said that 
 friend, “ Paul would say, ‘for me to live is Christ, and for 
 me to die is gain.’” “ Yes,” rejoined he, “ and for me too, 
 as well as Paul, ‘ to live is Christ, and to die is gain.’” 
 His physician, Dr. Y oung, observed the unabated vigour 
 and intense activity of his mind, while his strength was 
 momentarily sinking, and declared that this alarmed him 
 most; this was the chief thing he had to contend against. 
 To preach the necessity of suspending all mental effort, he 
 said, was easy; but, in this case, the practice, he was afraid, 
 was most difficult. Thus he continued till the Tuesday’ 
 when he remarked, “ I know not how it is, but my mind, 
 hitherto so much engaged, has now ceased to work. It is* 
 quite still. ’ That, said his dear companion, is what we 
 wished. If it rests, strength will again revive. But, alas! 
 this hope was fallacious. Its work on earth was done, and 
 before the close of that day, its energies were destined to 
 unfold under incalculable advantages,—unrestrained by a 
 dying body, and amidst the light of heavenly glory. 
 
 G. 
 
Dr. Williams’s Works. 
 
 59 
 
 A CATALOGUE OF WORKS PUBLISHED BY DR. WILLIAMS. 
 
 1. Social Religion Exemplified; written originally by the 
 Rev. Matthias Maurice. Revised, corrected, and abridged, 
 with occasional Notes, a copious Index, and a Preface con¬ 
 taining some account of the Author. 5th edit. 12mo. 
 
 2. Antipwdobaptism Examined; or a strict and impartial 
 Inquiry into the Nature and Design, Subjects and Mode, of 
 Baptism. 2 vols. 12mo. 
 
 3. An Exposition of the Epistle to the Hebrews ; with the 
 preliminary Exercitations. By John Owen, D.D. Revised 
 and abridged, with a full and interesting Life of the Author, 
 a copious Index, &c. Including two Letters, the one to 
 Dr. Priestley, and the other to Mr. David Levi, respecting 
 this work. 4 vols. 8vo. 
 
 4. A Discourse on the Influence of Religious Practice upon 
 our Inquiries after Truth. With an Appendix, addressed 
 to the Rev. Mr. Belsham. 
 
 5. A Discourse on the Christian’s Reasons for glorying 
 in the Cross of Christ. 
 
 6. A Circular Letter, from the Independent Ministers 
 assembled at Nuneaton, Aug. 6, 1793, to the Associated 
 Churches in Warwickshire. With a Postscript, recom¬ 
 mending the sending of Missionaries among the Heathen. 
 
 7. An Introductory Discourse on the Nature of an Ordina¬ 
 tion, delivered at the Ordination of the Rev. Daniel Fleming. 
 
 8. A Charge addressed to the First Missionaries to the 
 Islands of the South Seas. 
 
 9. An Account of the Old Yorkshire Academy, and the 
 New Rotherham Academy. 
 
 10 A Charge at the Ordination of the Rev. Samuel 
 Bradley. 
 
 11. The Christian Preacher; or, Discourses on Preaching, 
 by several eminent Divines, revised and abridged, with an 
 Appendix on the choice of Books. 2d edition. 12mo. 
 
 12. The Kingdom of Christ; or, the Certainty of the 
 Resurrection argued from the Nature of Christ’s Mediato¬ 
 rial Kingdom; a Sermon preached at Nottingham. 
 
 13. A Collection of above six hundred Hymns, designed as 
 a Supplement to Dr. Watts’s Psalms and Hymns. 4th. 
 edition. 
 
 14. The Psalms and Hymns of Dr. Watts; containing 
 twenty additional Hymns by the same Author—a Table of 
 the first line, not only of every Psalm and Hymn, but also 
 of every Stanza in the Work ; a new Arrangement of the 
 
60 
 
 Dr. Williams’s Works. 
 
 whole in a convenient Table prefixed ; with improved Indexes 
 of Subjects and of Scriptures. 2 vols. 
 
 15. Musical Hints , designed to excite the laudable curio¬ 
 sity of Young People in reference to Sacred Musick; with 
 a Musical Index to above 250 tunes, (corresponding with 
 Dr. Miller’s two volumes of Tunes, original and collected,) 
 adapted to all Dr. Watts’ Psalms and Hymns, and the Sup¬ 
 plement. 
 
 16. Predestination to Life ; a Sermon preached at Sheffield. 
 With Explanatory Notes on Predestination, the Origin of 
 Moral Evil, &c. 2d edition. 
 
 17. Apostolic Zeal Recommended; a Sermon preached in 
 London, at the eleventh General Meeting of the Missionary 
 Society. 
 
 18. Thoughts on a General and Explicit Union of Congre¬ 
 gational Churches. 
 
 19. The Works of Dr. Doddridge complete. With Notes 
 Illustrative, Theological, and Philosophical, on the Preach¬ 
 ing Lectures ; and an accurate, copious Index. 10 vols. 
 
 20. National Reform; a Sermon preached at Masborough 
 on the Fast Day, 1809. 
 
 21. Christian Unanimity Recommended; a Discourse preach¬ 
 ed before the Annual Meeting of the General Congregational 
 Union, London. 
 
 22. An Essay on the Equity of Divine Government, and 
 the Sovereignty of Divine Grace. 
 
 23. The Christian Minister's Main Study; a Charge de¬ 
 livered at the Ordination of the Rev. John Hawksley. 
 
 24. Apostolic Benevolence towards the Jews, recommended 
 for imitation; a Sermon at the Jews’ Chapel, Spitalfields, 
 London. 
 
 25. The Works of President Edwards, complete. Includ¬ 
 ing Memoirs of the Life, Experience, and Character of the 
 Author, by Dr. Hopkins, reviewed, corrected, and enlarged ; 
 a Sketch of Mrs. Edwards’s Life and Character; a brief 
 Account of their Daughter, Mrs. Burr; the Life and Cha¬ 
 racter of the Author’s Son, Dr. Jonathan Edwards; with 
 occasional Notes on controverted Subjects, and an accurate 
 copious Index. 8 vols. 
 
 26. The Parent's Help; or the young Child’s First Cate¬ 
 chism, founded on familiar Scripture Characters. Seventh 
 edition. 
 
 27. The Union Catechism; First Part, the Church Cate¬ 
 chism abridged, and adapted to the capacities of young 
 children; Second Part, the Assembly’s Catechism abridged. 
 
Review.—State of New-England and ^lew-l ork. 61 
 
 and adapted to the capacities of young children. Sixth 
 edition. 
 
 28. The Older Child's Catechism; founded on Scripture 
 Characters and Important Facts. 
 
 29. An Exposition of the Assembly’s Catechism, compre¬ 
 hending a concise Body of Divinity. 
 
 30. Scripture Questions; containing a familiar Introduc¬ 
 tion to the Divine Dispensations, from the beginning of 
 Genesis to the end of Revelations ; accompanied with En¬ 
 graved Charts, chronological, historical, and biographical, 
 and an Explanation of the Charts. Second edition. 
 
 31. A Defence of Modern Calvinism; containing an Exa¬ 
 mination of the Bishop of Lincoln’s Work, entitled, •* A Refu¬ 
 tation of Calvinism.” 
 
 Dr. Williams had prepared a New Edition of the “ Essay 
 on the Equity of Divine Government, and the Sovereignty 
 of Divine Grace,” corrected and improved; and was prepar¬ 
 ing for publication, a work, to have been entitled, “ The 
 Principles of Moral Science.” 
 
 J. B. W. 
 
 REVIEW. 
 
 Travels in New-England and New-York. By Timothy 
 Dwight, S.T.D. LL.D., late President of Yale College, 
 Author of Theology Explained and Defended. 4 vols. 
 8vo. pp. 515, 515, 525, 525. London, 1823. Baynes 
 and Son. 
 
 Memorable Days in America: being a Journal of a Tour to 
 the United States, principally undertaken to ascertain by 
 positive evidence the Condition and probable Prospects of 
 British Emigrants; including an Account of Mr. Birkbeck’s 
 Settlement in the Illinois, and intended to shew Men and 
 Things as they are, in America. By W. Faux, an English 
 Farmer. 8vo. pp. 504. London, 1823. Simpkin and 
 Marshall. 
 
 “To shew things as they really are in America,” has, 
 from its first establishment, been one of the particular 
 objects of this journal; and its editors trust, that they have 
 not altogether failed in its attainment. This also is the 
 avowed object of both the works before us; the one the 
 elaborate production of an American divine, whose theolo¬ 
 gical writings have long since made him advantageously 
 
62 Review.—State of New-England and New-York. 
 
 known in this country ; the other, the journal of a plain, but 
 strong-minded English farmer, who crossed the Atlantic for 
 the very laudable purpose of ascertaining for himself the 
 actual situation of things in those distant regions, which, as 
 prejudice or interest has dictated, have now been repre¬ 
 sented as a barren desart and a waste howling wilderness, 
 now as a land that floweth with milk and honey. From an 
 impartial examination of the two books before us, we hope 
 to extract something like the truth, satisfied as we are, and 
 as we flatter ourselves that our readers are also, of the 
 inapplicability of the following remarks, in the preface of 
 Dr. Dwight, to us. 
 
 “ From the numerous errors published in Great Britain con¬ 
 cerning American subjects, of the most obvious nature, and such 
 as seem hardly to admit of mistake, it is naturally concluded, 
 that few persons in that island feel any wish to become acquainted 
 with the situation of the United States, or with the real character 
 ot their inhabitants. By the government, indeed, we must, from 
 the extent of our territory, our local circumstances, our population, 
 and our commerce, be considered as possessing a degree of politi¬ 
 cal importance; and by the merchants of Liverpool, and the manu¬ 
 facturers of Manchester, Birmingham, and Sheffield, we may be 
 legarded with some attention as customers. But, except by the 
 religious part of the British nation, we seem to be chiefly unknown, 
 01 forgotten, in the character of rational beings, or known and 
 remembered almost to be made the objects of contempt and 
 calumny. A book, which professes nothing more than to give a 
 description of a country and a people, regarded in this manner 
 can form no claim on the attention of those by whom the subjects 
 of which it treats are thus estimated. It may indeed be read, or at 
 least reviewed, by some or other of the literary journalists of 
 Great Britain. From these gentlemen, Americans, and then- 
 writings, have customarily met with one kind of treatment only 
 I neither claim, nor wish, any exemption from the common lot of 
 my countrymen.” [preface, p. xix, xx.] 
 
 For our own parts, it has been, and constantly will be 
 our earnest endeavour to preserve the strictest impartiality 
 in our estimation of the rival branches of the same common 
 iannly, and to know no difference between a cis-atlantic and 
 trans-atlantic production of the same common language 
 save that which their own merit produces; and in this spirit 
 we enter on our present task. The work of Dr. Dwight is 
 confined, as our readers will perceive, to the states ofNew- 
 England and New-York, the most important, without a 
 question, of the American Union ; and they will also bear 
 
63 
 
 Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 
 
 iu mind, that his representations must be referred to the 
 situation of those countries, from eighteen to five-and-twenty 
 years ago, although the notes of the editor (his son, if we do 
 not greatly deceive ourselves,) have given us the most mate¬ 
 rial changes which have taken place since that period. 
 The work making its appearance in its original form of 
 letters written to a friend, de die in diem, as the several 
 journeys were performing, gives to it a character far too 
 desultory for our purpose, without attempting a more syste¬ 
 matic arrangement of its details, though we are somewhat 
 apprehensive of not succeeding in our object to the extent 
 of our wishes. 
 
 New-England, the first country described, contains, ac¬ 
 cording to our author’s account, 70,000 square miles, al¬ 
 though Dr. Morse limits it to 61,000. For about seven 
 hundred miles it is w’ashed by the ocean, and few' countries 
 are better furnished with harbours, of which Boston is the 
 chief. The interior has abundance of lakes, small indeed, 
 but amounting to about a thousand in number,and they con¬ 
 tributing greatly to the beauty of a country, sufficiently un¬ 
 equal in its surface to afford all the varieties of hill and 
 dale, which give so pleasing an effect to the most pictu¬ 
 resque of our English counties. Various ranges of moun¬ 
 tains, (for there are but few r solitary ones,) several of them 
 from two to three hundred miles in length, generally covered 
 with evergreens, impart to some of its districts an air of 
 sublimity which Wales and Scotland can present but in 
 miniature, exquisitely beautiful as some features in that 
 miniature unquestionably are. In such a country, as we 
 naturally may suppose, springs, brooks, and small rivers are 
 abundant, so that scarcely a farm is destitute of an ample 
 supply of water, which alike from streams and wells, in 
 most places yielding an ample supply, is generally of a 
 very good quality. The soil is various, presenting every 
 intermediate degree of fertility, from the production of 
 fifty (very frequently of forty) bushels of wheat, and more 
 than an hundred bushels of maize, an acre, to all but in¬ 
 curable sterility. Most minerals are found here, (many of 
 them in great abundance,) except silver and gold, and, what 
 to an Englishman at least is well nigh as valuable as either, 
 coal. In the absence of this most pleasant material for 
 fuel, the inhabitants of these states employ wood as a substi¬ 
 tute, preferring it as making a much pleasanter fire to peat, 
 which exists, it would seem, at little distances throughout 
 the country, although Dr. Anderson has erroneously 
 
64 Review.—State of New-England and New- York. 
 
 stated, that it is not to be found in America. The ra¬ 
 pidity of the growth of the shoots from old stumps of a 
 cleared, yet ever-living forest, securing on good ground a 
 renovated supply of fuel once in fourteen years, considerably 
 lessens, however, the inconvenience from the want of coal 
 which would otherwise be felt. 
 
 At Ridgfield, in Connecticut, there is a mine of iron so pure, 
 as to produce at the first forging steel of an excellent 
 quality. Dr. Dwight saw indeed a very good and ser¬ 
 viceable penknife made from the ore, as it came from the 
 mine. Forest trees are abundant, and many of them grow 
 to that extraordinary size which is characteristic of the 
 productions of the new world. The white pine, the noblest 
 tree in New England, and probably in the world, is fre¬ 
 quently six feet in diameter, and two hundred and fifty feet 
 in height. “ The sound of the wind,” says Dr. Dwight, 
 “ hi a grove of white pines, has all the magnificence which 
 attends the distant roar of the ocean.” Besides the trees 
 of ordinary growth in England, cedars and tulip trees there 
 flourish in great abundance. The latter flowers most beau¬ 
 tifully, the blossoms of its yellow species appearing at a 
 distance as of burnished gold. From the black maple, 
 sugar is obtained, at times, to the extent of fourteen pounds 
 a season, from a single tree. Most of our fruits are success¬ 
 fully cultivated there; the meadow-strawberry of the coun- 
 tiy, being, for instance, brought to such a state of perfection 
 as to have increased to twice its original size, some being 
 four inches and a half in circumference, many four, and 
 bushels between three and four. Apples also are so abun¬ 
 dant, that although cider is the common beverage of the 
 country, nch and poor alike, in a fruitful year they are 
 often given to those who will gather them, and form, bushel 
 after bushel, a delicious though not uncommon food for 
 cattle and for swine; and if their flocks and herds are 
 feasted with some of those exquisite Newtown pippins, on 
 which it has frequently been our good fortune to regale 
 ourselves in England, we cannot but observe, en passant, 
 that we envy them their desert. Cantelopes, several varie¬ 
 ties of melons, amongst which are water-melons weio-hino; 
 fifty pounds, figs, almonds, butter-nuts, prunes, vegetable 
 eggs, mandrakes, winter and summer squashes, and love- 
 apples, seem to be the principal fruits growing wild or cul¬ 
 tivated there, which we either have not in England at all 
 or do not cultivate to any extent. 
 
 Their vegetables are pretty much the same as ours, and 
 
65 
 
 Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 
 
 with the exception of the artichoke, grows luxuriantly, and 
 in some cases, in the cauliflower particularly, to greater 
 perfection than with us. In the produce of farms, we see 
 not much difference between the countries, as to its species, 
 except that a great quantity of maize is grown in New- 
 England, in most parts of which the Hessian fly has been so 
 destructive to the wheat, as to compel the discontinuance 
 of its cultivation in districts so extensive as the greater 
 part of Connecticut. To peas also, the bugs are very fatal 
 enemies, and neither barley nor oats are very generally 
 grown. But besides these 'formidable foes to agriculture, 
 New-England has others, to whose ruinous inroads the 
 readers of the former series of our work will recollect that 
 the ancient Israelites were also subject. We allude to the 
 palmer-worm and the canker-worm. Of the appearance of 
 the former in 1770, its only visit in his recollection. 
 Dr. Dwight gives the following particulars, which we the 
 rather extract here, in that the ingenious essay of the 
 valuable correspondent to whom we are indebted for the 
 treatise on the agriculture of the Israelites, which has 
 enriched the former numbers of our work, gives but little 
 information respecting them; and this would not, we are as¬ 
 sured, have been the case, had the various writers, whom he 
 consulted for the composition of his elaborate article, col¬ 
 lected any thing important upon the subject. 
 
 “ It spread over a great part of the country, and was stopped in 
 its progress only by death, or by ploughing a trench before it, up 
 the side of which it was unable to climb; the small particles of 
 earth yielding to its feet, and falling with it into the trench. This 
 worm was a caterpillar nearly two inches in length, striped longitu¬ 
 dinally with a very deep brown and white; its eyes very large, bright, 
 and piercing, its movements very rapid, and its numbers infinite. 
 Its march was from west to east. Walls and fences were no 
 obstruction to its course, nor indeed was any thing else, except the 
 sides of trenches. It destroyed, rather than devoured, ascending 
 a stalk of grass, or grain, cutting it off in a moment, and, without 
 staying to eat any part of it, rapidly repeating the same process on 
 all which stood in its way. The meadows, w'here it most abound¬ 
 ed, appeared as if they had been mown with a dull scythe; and 
 the grain, as if it had been reaped with a sickle which had gaps, 
 and therefore had cut the stalks in a scattering, slovenly manner. 
 In some places, immense multitudes of these animals died in the 
 trenches which were formed to stop their progress, and were left 
 uncovered. The mass soon became fetid, and loathsome ; and was 
 supposed, in several instances, to produce a fever, usually distress¬ 
 ing, and sometimes fatal.” [vol. i. p. 49.] 
 
 VOL. VIII.—NO. 1. F 
 
GC) Review.—State of New-England and New -1 ork. 
 
 These ravages are an evil of the greater magnitude, from 
 the lamentable want of agricultural skill which pervades 
 •the New-England farmers, with few, if any, exceptions. 
 The produce of their farms is confessedly inferior to that 
 of ours; a circumstance which Dr. Dwight very justly 
 attributes rather to the inferiority of their husbandry, than 
 the poverty of their soil, which is said (and there appears to 
 be no reason for doubting the truth of the assertion) to be 
 naturally as rich and productive as that of England. Their 
 husbandry must be miserable indeed, when a writer, evi¬ 
 dently disposed to put the best face upon the condition of 
 his country as is Dr. Dwight, admits that its farmers are 
 generally ignorant of what crops will best succeed eacli 
 other, whilst their fields are covered with a growth of weeds 
 so rank and rapid, as that they often far exceed the crop in 
 .weight. 
 
 Of medicinal, and other plants, the species known here 
 are almost innumerable. 
 
 On the subject of the quadrupeds of the country, we 
 shall, injustice to America, allow Dr. Dwight to correct, in 
 his own expressions, a gross mistatement to which Euro¬ 
 pean ignorance and prejudice have given rise. 
 
 “ It is commonly asserted by the zoologists of Europe, that 
 America, by a mysterious and malignant influence, derived from 
 I know not what, and exerted I know not how, diminishes the size 
 and deteriorates the qualities of all animals, both native and im¬ 
 ported. I beg leave to assure you, that New-England comes in 
 for no share of this charge. To an American it is amusing enough 
 to see how far your writers have imbibed an opinion, which in its 
 own nature sets probability at defiance. In Guthrie's Geography, 
 the following declarations have gone through fifteen editions:— 
 ‘The caribou is the largest native animal in America, and is no 
 bigger than a calf a year old.’ ‘The elk is a native of America, 
 and is as big as a horse.’ Now, whether a calf a year old is in 
 Great Britain as big as a horse, or not, the editors of this work will 
 undoubtedly claim a right to determine, to which I can make no 
 pretensions, since I have never seen a British calf exactly of this 
 age. In this country a horse is certainly much larger than such a 
 calf; and hence I venture to conclude, that the caribou is not 
 the largest native animal of America. Certainly he is not so 
 large as the elk. I should judge from looking at this animal, of 
 which I have seen several, that he would weigh from one thousand 
 to eleven hundred pounds. The moose, which is only a variety of 
 the same kind, will probably weigh fourteen hundred pounds. A 
 catalogue has been published by the Rev. Dr. Williams, in his 
 History of Vermont, which very strongly illustrates the soundness 
 of this philosophy. It is the following - 
 
Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 67 
 
 The bear. 
 
 "Weight in 
 lbs. 
 
 Europe. 
 
 oz. 
 
 7 
 
 Weight in 
 lbs. 
 
 456 
 
 Vermont, 
 
 oz. 
 
 0 
 
 Wolf. 
 
 
 8 
 
 92 
 
 0 
 
 Deer.. 
 
 
 8 
 
 308 
 
 0 
 
 Fox, red. 
 
 . 13 
 
 5 
 
 20 
 
 0 
 
 Porcupine. 
 
 . 2 
 
 2 
 
 16 
 
 0 
 
 Martin ... 
 
 . 1 
 
 9 
 
 5 
 
 4 
 
 Polecat. 
 
 . 3 
 
 3 
 
 7 
 
 8 
 
 Hare. 
 
 . 7 
 
 6 
 
 8 
 
 0 
 
 Rabbit. 
 
 . 3 
 
 4 
 
 7 
 
 0 
 
 Weasel. 
 
 . 2 
 
 2 
 
 12 
 
 0 
 
 Ermine. 
 
 . 8 
 
 2 
 
 14 
 
 0 
 
 Flying squirrel ... 
 
 . 2 
 
 2 
 
 10 
 
 0 
 
 Beaver. 
 
 . 18 
 
 5 
 
 63 
 
 8 
 
 Otter. 
 
 . 8 
 
 9 
 
 29 
 
 8 
 
 “ The weight of these animals in Europe is given by M. De 
 Buflfon, and will therefore not be questioned. That of the Ameri¬ 
 can animals is given by Dr. Williams, and may of course be regarded 
 as undoubtedly just. You see that the comparison is not a little 
 unfavourable to the eastern continent. If any conclusion is to be 
 drawn from it, America is much more favourable to the growth of 
 animals than Europe. At the same time you will remember, that 
 the white pine and the cypress of this country are giants, in compa¬ 
 rison with the trees of the eastern continent. What if we should 
 turn the tables on you, and insist that your continent is grown too 
 old to yield the productions of nature in their full size, while ours, 
 young, if you please, certainly vigorous, nourishes them to a state 
 of comparative perfection ? Besides, were you once to behold the 
 skeleton of our mammoth, you would be struck with astonishment, 
 and regard the animals of Europe as a collection of pigmies. 
 
 “ There was last year raised in a town bordering on this, an ox 
 of the common breed, generally named the small breed, in distinc¬ 
 tion from a larger heretofore common in this country, estimated by 
 skilful judges to weigh alive three thousand five hundred pounds. 
 There was also, a few weeks since, killed in this town, a hog, 
 which weighed more than eight hundred and fifty pounds. 
 
 “ To give you my opinion on this subject, I readily believe, that 
 on both continents, if you choose the proper climate, species, and 
 food, you may raise any of these animals to its full size. In the 
 view of a sober American, the contrary opinion, though dignified by 
 the name of philosophy, and made the subject of grave discussions 
 of grave men, ranks with the stories of Lilliput and Brobdingnag, 
 and would be readily supposed to have had its origin in the island 
 of Laputa.” [vol. i. pp. 24—26.] 
 
 We fear that this comparison of the growth of animals 
 will, generally speaking, be little less advantageous to 
 Europe, than will the justice and candour displayed by 
 
68 
 
 Review.—State of New-England and NewrYork. 
 
 our American writer, when contrasted with the misrepresen- 
 tation and illiberality which have long pervaded most of our 
 English accounts of that quarter of the globe. O birds of 
 prey New-En°dand has several formidable ones, and amongst 
 them, the bald eagle, measuring sometimes nine feet be¬ 
 tween the extremities of its wings, and abundantly stiong 
 and bold enough to attack and destroy lambs, sheep, and 
 calves. But even this gigantic marauder has an opponent 
 more than his equal, in a curious, little, but very gallant 
 bird, of which our author gives us the following account 
 
 “ Birds of prey in this country are of many kinds ; yet, if we 
 except the common or hen-hawk, they are few in number. It is a 
 remarkable fact, that the king-bird, or bee-eater, is an overmatch 
 for any of them. This little animal, possessed of a sharp beak, 
 unrivalled activity, and a spirit equally unrivalled, boldly attacks 
 every other bird, and is always secure of victory. It is not a little 
 amusin^ to see an enemy, so disproportioned in size and strength, 
 vanquish the crow, the hawk, and the eagle. ^ bile on the wing 
 he always rises above them, and, at short intervals, darting upon 
 them with wonderful celerity, pierces them with his bill on the back 
 and neck so painfully, that they make no efforts but to escape. 
 Whenever they alight, he alights immediately over them, and 
 quietly waits until they again take wing. 1 hen he repeats the same 
 severe discipline, until, satisfied with victory and revenge, he returns 
 to his nest. This bird is an excellent defence of a garden against 
 every enemy of the feathered kind, [vol.i. p. 27.] 
 
 There are a few other ornithological singularities of the 
 country, which, on so respectable authority as that of Dr. 
 Dwight, we hesitate not to extract as facts, new and ex- 
 traordinary as some of them appear. Thus we are told, that 
 the crow is there easily taught to speak as well and volubly 
 as the parrot; and that a bird so difficult to be approached, 
 as not to admit of a more accurate description than that it 
 is of a brown colour, and in size scarcely so large as the 
 robin, sings at once so exquisitively and so sweetly, as to 
 exceed in voice the tone of any instrument, save only the 
 iEolian harp. But this is not all, for it forms a concert with 
 one, and sometimes with two of its companions ; the voice of 
 one in the former instance, being elevated a third greater 
 above that of the other, and in the trio the same performer 
 raising his voice a fifth above the first, and of course a third 
 less above the second. 
 
 “ In this manner,” says Dr. Dwight, “ a given set of notes is 
 repeated alternately by them all at equal intervals, and with inimi- 
 
69 
 
 Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 
 
 table sweetness of sound, forming, it is believed, the nearest 
 approach to harmony found amongst the feathered creation. I have 
 named this bird the songster of the woods.” [vol. i. p. 28.] 
 
 And well, we would add, if this account of its performances 
 be accurate, as we cannot doubt but that it is, does it merit 
 a title so distinctive, as to induce us very earnestly to w'ish 
 that we could be present at one of those extraordinary 
 concerts of birds, in comparison with whom we should 
 hold the black swan of Horace very little of a rara avis in 
 terra. 
 
 Rattlesnakes are amongst the most formidable of the 
 reptiles of which New-England has its full share, though 
 Dr. Dwight, with somewhat more of nationality, we cannotb'ut 
 think, than of justice, says that though “ commonly,’' it has 
 been “ erroneously supposed to be very dangerous*to man.” 
 
 His bite is, indeed,” he admits, “a strong poison;” yet 
 lie adds, for the consolation of those who may be exposed to 
 it, that it is “ both certainly and easily curedbesides the 
 further assurance, that the animal “ is so clumsy, as to be 
 avoided without any difficulty.” On these accounts, we 
 find, that the rattlesnake has long ceased to be an object of 
 curiosity in these states; notwithstanding which, from want 
 perhaps of a familiarity with them, of which, while they are 
 living, we are by no means ambitious, we should place our 
 chieF security in their being rarely met w ith, except in 
 solitary places. 
 
 Most of our readers must have heard or read of the sup¬ 
 posed power of snakes to fascinate birds, and will not, we 
 are persuaded, be displeased with us, for extracting the 
 following facts upon the subject, from the pages of Dr. 
 Dwight, who gives unqualified credence to the statement, 
 which he had received from a student of Yale College. 
 
 * “ As this young gentleman, together with some companions, was 
 walking one morning through a grove, in the summer season, they 
 heard a bird scream in an unusual manner. Upon examination, 
 they found a blue jay flying in a horizontal direction, about fifteen 
 feet from the ground, from a certain tree; and, after having 
 extended its flight about thirty rods, returning again to the same 
 tree. Its excursions, however, became in every instance shorter, 
 and its flight at every return was directed to a particular part of 
 the tree. This naturally led the young gentlemen to search for 
 the cause of so remarkable a phenomenon. They found in that 
 part of the tree a large black snake, extended upon a limb, at the 
 height at which the bird flew. Curiosity induced them to continue 
 their observation, until the bird became nearly exhausted, and 
 
70 Review.—State of New-England and New -1 ork. 
 
 appeared to be on the point of becoming- a prey to its enemy. One 
 of the company then threw a club into the tree, and thus diverted 
 the attention of both the snake and the bird. The charm, if I may 
 be permitted to use this language, was immediately dissolved, and 
 the intended victim escaped without any difficulty.” [vol. i. p. 29.] 
 
 The insects of these states are not remarkable either for 
 variety, number, or malignity. Hornets and wasps exist, 
 but do not abound there; and although we question not the 
 truth of the Doctor’s assertion, that there are fewer noxious 
 insects of any kind in New-England than in most countries 
 in the Eastern continent, we cannot but think that it would 
 be a more desirable place of residence, if freed from those 
 swarms of musquitos, not unreasonably dreaded and dis¬ 
 liked by our countrymen, when their bite is occasionally so 
 venomous as to render it necessary to cut the sleeve of a 
 coat, before it can be taken off the swollen arm which it 
 covered. Locusts, too, as far as comfort is concerned, 
 might, we should think, be dispensed with, although the 
 injuries they do are confined to regular visitations every 
 seventeenth year, productive only, we are told, of “ a little 
 mischief to the forest trees.” 
 
 The fish in the waters of New-England are proverbially 
 numerous, and many of them delicious. 
 
 On the subject of climate and seasons, our author enters 
 into details far too minute for us to follow ; too minute 
 also, we should think, for the majority of those who are 
 likely to be his readers. The results and principal features 
 may be stated in a few words. The heat of summer is 
 admitted to be somewhat greater than in European climes, 
 a circumstance which, as far as England has been concerned 
 for some years past, is in favour of America; although the 
 advantage is more than counterbalanced by the greater 
 degree of cold which prevails there at times, and still more 
 strongly by the extreme variableness of the climate, which 
 sometimes changes more than thirty—to the amount even of 
 forty-eight degrees in four-and-twentyhours. During the cold 
 winds, of frequent recurrence, and which, from the severity 
 of their effects, are not inappropriately termed blasts, rapid 
 streams are sometimes so completely frozen over in a night, as 
 to be crossed upon ice the morning after they had been flow¬ 
 ing uncongealed and uninterrupted in their wonted course. 
 These winds have been known to blow for a continuance of 
 one-and-twenty days; and when, as is frequently the case, 
 they are violent, houses prostrated, others unroofed, consi¬ 
 derable tracts of forest levelled to the ground, and extensive 
 
71 
 
 Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 
 
 damage to shipping in the harbours, are amongst the fearful 
 proofs of their destructive ravages. But with their ruinous 
 march, it is but justice to contrast Dr. Dwight’s very beau¬ 
 tiful description of the thunder-storms of his country; 
 objects with us not usually productive of pleasurable emo¬ 
 tions, at least to the great majority of those who witness 
 them. 
 
 “ The thunder-storms of this country, generally so styled be¬ 
 cause a considerable number of them are actually storms, are in 
 most cases equally beneficial and delightful. An immense gran¬ 
 deur invests them during the time of their approach. They are 
 so frequent in ordinary seasons as to furnish an ample supply of 
 rain for the demands of vegetation. The wind which brings them, 
 and which blows one or two days after they have passed over, is 
 remarkably pure, refreshing, and healthy. The earth, particularly 
 in the months of May and June, the richest season of vegetation, 
 is beautiful beyond description. The verdure glows with new 
 life—the flowers exult with additional beauty and fragrance— 
 
 u The birds their notes renew; and bleating herds 
 Attest their joy, that hill and valley rings." 
 
 The sun, in the mean time, beams through the purified atmo¬ 
 sphere with a peculiar splendour. One, and often two rainbows 
 are finely painted on the reverse of the departing storm. The clouds 
 in the western regions, wrought into the boldest figures, and 
 tinged in different places with all the elegant hues of the prismatic 
 image, present to the eye mountains with summits of gold, and 
 precipices of fire. To these storms the people of this country owe 
 their general exemption from drought, which seems so much more 
 frequently to afflict those of the eastern continent.” [vol. i. p. 48.] 
 
 The seasons seem to be as variable as w r ith us, March 
 having been occasionally the pleasantest, and June the most 
 unpleasant month of the twelve. Notwithstanding this, 
 however, New-England is a very healthy country, and many 
 of its inhabitants attain to a great age, though not, it w ould 
 seem, in a larger, if in quite so large, a proportion as in 
 our own country. To earthquakes and storms these states 
 have not infrequently been exposed—the former have, 
 however, seldom done very extensive mischief, though the 
 ravages of the latter have often been considerable, but not 
 greater than those of similar convulsions of the elements in 
 Europe. Nor are its tornadoes, the most formidable shocks 
 of the atmosphere known in that country, by any means 
 equal in violence to those which have frequently desolated 
 large tracts of our ow n West Indian possessions. 
 
 The history of the colonization of New-England is given 
 
72 Review.—State of New-England and New- York. 
 
 in these travels with much minuteness of detail, in which 
 justice is done to the character of the Puritans, from whom 
 Dr. Dwight is not ashamed of deriving his descent. Nor 
 need he to be so; for the real character of the first European 
 settlers in his country, is truly given by him in this short 
 sentence. 
 
 “ Piety was indeed the common character, not unsullied by 
 errors and faults, but nobly distinguished by that patient, regular, 
 and conscientious continuance in well-doing, which lays the fair 
 foundation for future glory, honour, and immortality.” [vol. i. p. 110.] 
 
 This is not, however, the character which they have borne 
 in the world, and least of all in the country whence bigotry 
 and tyranny drove them forth, to seek a refuge from oppres¬ 
 sion, and contumely, and wrong, in the wilds of America, 
 amidst the rude habitations of fierce and savage men. 
 
 The New-Englanders have certainly, from their first 
 settlement downwards, laboured under a heavy weight of 
 obloquy, for the double crime of Puritanism and Republican¬ 
 ism. So long ago as the latter end of the seventeenth and 
 the beginning of the eighteenth century, the witty, but pre¬ 
 judiced and bigoted South, was in the habit of going out of 
 his way to abuse them in strongly vituperative terms, in 
 some of the most eloquent discourses which he delivered 
 from the pulpit; and his vigorous fulminations carry with 
 them to many minds a perpetuity of reproach. Very diffe¬ 
 rent feelings will, however, be awakened in the minds of 
 those who set a proper estimate on all they did and suffered 
 for liberty and conscience’ sake. Of those sufferings, the 
 following animated sketch, in Dr. Dwight’s best style, 
 glances not at the half. 
 
 “ The greatest of all the evils which they suffered were derived 
 from the savages. These people, of whom Europeans still form 
 very imperfect conceptions, kept the colonists, after the first hos¬ 
 tilities commenced, in almost perpetual terror and alarm. The 
 first annunciation of an Indian war is its actual commencement. 
 In the hour of security, silence, and sleep, when your enemies are 
 supposed to be friends, quietly employed in hunting and fishing ; 
 when they are believed to be at the distance of several hundred 
 miles, and perfectly thoughtless of you or yours; when thus un¬ 
 suspecting, thus at ease, slumbering on your pillow, your sleep is 
 broken up by the whar-whoop, your house and village are set on fire, 
 your family and friends are butchered and scalped, yourself and a 
 few other wretched survivors are hurried, into captivity, to be 
 roasted alive at the stake, or have your body stuck full of skewers 
 
73 
 
 Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 
 
 and burnt by inches. You are a fanner, and have gone abroad to 
 the customary business of the field r there you are shot down from 
 behind a tree in the hour of perfect security; or you return at 
 evening, and find your house burnt and your family vanished ; or, 
 perhaps, discover their half-consumed bones mingled with the 
 ashes of your dwelling, or your wife murdered, and your little ones 
 lying beside her, after having been dashed against a tree.” [vol. 
 i. pp. 117, 118.] 
 
 Such were the men who planted these colonies; such the 
 dangers they braved; such the difficulties they surmounted. 
 Of the effects of their views and principles upon their descend¬ 
 ants, Dr. Dwight gives the following representation, at the 
 close of a very complete vindication of the conduct and cha¬ 
 racter of those original settlers, occupying the 10th, 11th, 
 12th, and 13th letters of the first volume of his journal, to 
 which we refer such of our readers as may be anxious for 
 further information upon the subject. 
 
 “ Of the piety of the New-England people, their accusers have 
 furnished abundant evidence. Change the words superstition, 
 fanaticism, enthusiasm, and bigotry, into piety, (the thing almost 
 invariably meant by them all,) and you will find from their enemies 
 themselves ample testimony, that the objects of their calumny were 
 distinguished for this superior kind of excellence. The numerous 
 churches in this country, a great part of them good, and many of 
 them handsome buildings, are a strong illustration of the spirit of 
 the inhabitants concerning the subject of religion. The number of 
 these structures already exceeds fourteen hundred, and is annually 
 increasing. In almost every part of the country, except where the 
 settlements are quite new, they are found at the distance of five, 
 six, and seven miles; and with their handsome spires and cupolas, 
 almost universally white, add an exquisite beauty to the landscape, 
 and perpetually refresh the eye of a traveller.” [pp. 142, 143.] 
 
 Towards the close of his work, he gives also, in one-and- 
 twenty letters, occupying upwards of 200 pages, (vol. iv. 
 p. 265—482,) a most elaborate disquisition on the language, 
 learning, morals, religion, and characteristic features, of the 
 inhabitants of New-England, on which we of course can 
 cast but the merest glance, referring our readers to the work 
 itself for a vindication of his countrymen, upon which the 
 Doctor has bestowed a degree of labour equal to the zeal 
 which he uniformly manifests in their cause. 
 
 That zeal will readily be admitted to be as active as any 
 New-Englander could wish, when the first proposition which 
 it prompts him to maintain is, the bold, and to us somewhat 
 startling one, that the English “ language is pronounced 
 
74 Review.-—State of Neio-England and New- York. 
 
 jnore correctly there than in England and this he proves 
 b y a reference to Pegge’s notable catalogue of Cockney isms, 
 including, besides the worn-out jokes of “ weal, vine, and 
 winegar, are wery good whittles I wow/’ and “ Villiam, I vant 
 my vig, the vite vig in the vooden vig-box, vich I vore 
 last Vednesday vas a veek at the westry,” such fancied 
 or obsolete vulgarisms, as “ partender” for partner, “ pee- 
 aches” for piazzas, “vemon” for venom, “ disgruntled” for 
 offended, “ nolus bolus” for nolens volens ; expressions 
 which w r e never heard during a residence of twenty years in 
 London, and which we will undertake to say, never were 
 heard from the lips of any but the very lowest of the ca¬ 
 naille. Had we a similar list of the vulgarisms of Boston 
 and Newhaven quays and pot-houses, we doubt not that 
 they would be quite as ridiculous. To the charge of coining 
 new words, giving new meanings to old ones, and retaining 
 many that are obsolete. Dr. Dwight pleads guilty; but puts 
 upon record a justificatory plea in the necessity of the case, 
 from the different circumstances of the two nations, though, 
 we apprehend, that if he were now living, he would not be 
 able to demonstrate the necessity for some of his ow 7 n 
 departures from the classical phraseology of our best English 
 writers, to which w r e shall refer before we close our notice 
 of his work. 
 
 The greatest attention appears to be paid throughout the 
 states of this division of America, to the important subject 
 of education, much more so indeed than even in these days 
 of active exertion for the promotion of this great object, is 
 shown with us, the country being every where divided into 
 societies, for the establishment of parochial and district 
 schools, the districts having power to tax themselves for 
 their maintenance, towards which, the state also contributes 
 a small proportion of its funds. The result of this 
 system is, that the children of New-England are universally 
 taught to read and write, or at least education is as nearly 
 universal as it is possible to be, without a law compelling the 
 education of every child under a severe penalty. The num¬ 
 ber of academies, or public-schools resembling our endowed 
 grammar-schools, in the different states, was, in 1812, be¬ 
 tween ninety and an hundred; its universities and colleges 
 eight, of which Harvard College, in Cambridge, Massachu¬ 
 setts, is the principal, that of Vermont, at Burlington, the 
 least considerable. The former has seven academical, and 
 as many medical professors, the number of students being 
 near upon nine hundred. There is also a law-school at 
 
75 
 
 Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 
 
 Lichfield, in Connecticut, far better conducted than our 
 inns of court, where the student need do nothing; but eat a 
 given number of dinners in a given number ot years, to 
 qualify him for the bar; whereas in the New-England insti¬ 
 tution, not only is law taught as a well-compacted system 
 and a science, but the students are initiated into its practice 
 with its theory. For this purpose, courts are constituted, in 
 which actions are brought and conducted through a regular 
 process, and nice questions of judicial technicality are raised, 
 (or, to use the phraseology applied to similar exercises in the 
 good old times of our own law societies, when they were some¬ 
 what more than mere eating-houses of state, are mooted,) 
 and thus they are regularly trained to the duties of the advo¬ 
 cate, the knowledge of which, as far as any steps taken to 
 advance it by the societies, of one or other of which our 
 students are and must be members, is concerned, they gain 
 by intuition, or from the stars. The medical profession 
 has also three societies, formed expressly for its improve¬ 
 ment—agriculture and philosophy, two—history, (a branch 
 of literature for whose encouragement no provision whatever 
 has been made with us,) one. Social libraries, somewhat 
 similar it would seem to our reading societies, exist in many 
 of the towns and parishes, to whose inhabitants they have 
 naturally imparted a literary taste. That taste is, however, 
 confessedly gratified, chiefly by the productions of writers 
 of our own country, the dearth of native authors, arising, 
 as Dr. Dwight contends, (and we go along with him in the 
 major part of his argument,) from the great mass of people in 
 New-En gland being men of business, with little time for study 
 or for much desultory reading—the w>ant of leisure from 
 the very laborious duties of their office, and of libraries, in 
 the clergy—of the lettered ease, which the rich endowments 
 of our own universities so abundantly furnish to the man of 
 study and research, and a consequent deficiency of patron¬ 
 age to the few individuals who, in America, have been 
 authors by profession, if indeed, with the exception ol one 
 splendid genius, lately transplanted to our own more genial 
 soil, authors by profession she can be said to have produced 
 any. 
 
 A distinct letter is devoted to a contradiction of the bold 
 and not very liberal assertion of the Edinburgh Reviewers, 
 that though “ all that federal America has written were 
 obliterated from the records of learning, there would (ex¬ 
 cept the works of Franklin) be no positive diminution of the 
 useful or the agreeable,” whilst “ the destruction of her 
 
76 Revieiv.—State of New-England and New-York. 
 
 whole literature would not occasion so much regret as we 
 feel for the loss of a few leaves from an ancient classic.” 
 To this sweeping anathema, Dr. Dwight opposes the works 
 of president Edwards, (too well known in this country to 
 need more than their being named,) but he is the only 
 author,—with the exception of Franklin, whom the censors 
 themselves except, and the ingenious natural philosopher 
 Rittenhouse,—known on this side of the Atlantic, whom he 
 does, or whom he probably could adduce. Professors Win- 
 thorp and Williams, of the university of Cambridge, are 
 also quoted as natural philosophers, who would have done 
 honour to any country; and we are referred to a certain 
 poem of M c * Fingal, as not inferior in wit and humour to 
 Hudibras, whilst in every other respect it is superior. This 
 is certainly no slight praise; but in the absence of all 
 means of forming a judgment upon the merits of such a 
 constellation of poetical excellence as Dr. Dwight describes 
 a poem to be, never heard of, we believe, in England before, 
 we cannot help suspecting his character of it to be tinctured 
 with the same pardonable nationality, that induced the 
 somewhat vaunting assertion, that “ President Edwards 
 has more enlarged the science of theology than any divine 
 of whom either England or Scotland can boast,” and that 
 Marshall’s Life of Washington (tedious and heavy as we 
 have ever thought it) “ will not suffer by a comparison with 
 any piece of biography written in Great Britain, with the 
 exception of those of Johnson.” We wish not, however, to 
 prolong an unpleasant, useless, and acrimonious discus¬ 
 sion, and cannot better terminate it, as far as we are con¬ 
 cerned, than by expressing a conviction, in which we are 
 satisfied that all our readers who know any thino- of Ameri¬ 
 can literature will agree, that putting this list of American 
 literati altogether out of the question. Dr. Dwight’s own 
 writings, those of Drs. Mason and Romeyn, the°novels of 
 Browne, and the sprightly essays and sketches of Washing¬ 
 ton Irvine, are in themselves sufficient to give a direct con¬ 
 tradiction to the grossly illiberal and unfounded dictum of 
 our northern Zoiluses, that his country “ has done nothin«■ 
 either to extend, diversify, or embellish the sphere of human 
 knowledge. 
 
 But to confine ourselves more strictly to New-England. 
 I he people in general appear to be remarkably honest, in 
 proof of which Dr. Dwight adduces a practice, which we 
 could not recommend to adoption in Old England, of two- 
 thnds ol the inhabitants sleeping the year round without 
 
77 
 
 Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 
 
 locking their doors, and that too in houses containing large 
 quantities of property easily removable. They must also 
 be quiet, peaceable, and orderly, as, in journeying twelve 
 thousand miles, he never saw two men fighting, and indeed 
 never witnessed such an exhibition, of every day’s occur¬ 
 rence in our streets, more than once in his life. On this 
 subject, it is but justice to the New-Englanders, though it 
 is as disgraceful to the inhabitants of our own country, to 
 give the contrast, which our author thus briefly draws. 
 
 “ Now permit me to call your eye to your own newspapers, and 
 observe how often their columns are ornamented with the feats of 
 Humphries and Mendoza, Crib and Molineux. What a grave 
 aspect is given to the accounts which describes the brutal contests 
 of these bullies ! Observe also, that not the mob only, not the 
 middle ranks of life only, but gentlemen, noblemen, and even 
 princes of the blood,* have been present at these rencounters. I 
 do not believe that a gentleman of New-England could be per¬ 
 suaded to be present at shell a scene by any inducement whatever, 
 unless to perform his duty, as a magistrate, in committing and 
 punishing such disturbers of society.” [vol. iv. pp. 324, 325.] 
 
 When we remember how often these prize-fights, thus 
 severely, though justly reprobated, have terminated in the 
 death of one of the combatants, we cannot but hold it a dis¬ 
 grace to our laws and our police, that such brutal exhibi¬ 
 tions are permitted, as is also the continuance of such sports 
 as are thus alluded to in another parallel, equally to our 
 disadvantage. 
 
 “ In New-England, horse-racing is almost, and cock-fighting 
 absolutely, unknown. I need not remind you to what a degree 
 these barbarous and profligate sports prevail in Great Britain. In 
 New-England there never was such a thing as a bull-baiting. 
 Suffer me to recall to your remembrance the debates, not long 
 since held in the British parliament on this subject, the decision of 
 that august body, and the speech delivered at that time by the 
 Hon. Mr. Windham.” [vol. iv. p. 326.] 
 
 As with us, the poor are here effectually provided for by law, 
 whilst charitable institutions are numerous, though confess¬ 
 edly supported on a less liberal scale than in Great Britain. 
 
 For his countrymen. Dr. Dwight claims a marked supe¬ 
 riority over ours, in affability, facility of access, sociality, 
 and readiness to oblige friends, points on which we have per¬ 
 sonally had few opportunities of forming a judgment by con- 
 
 * “ A horse-race, a fox-chase, or a boxing-match, is never without 
 its trains of reverend attendants .”—Letters to the Rt, Hon. Mr. 
 Perccvai. 
 
78 Review.—State of New-England and New-York. 
 
 trast; but as these amiabilities of life are not at least the most 
 characteristic virtues of an Englishman, but those, on the 
 contrary, in which he is far excelled by neighbouring Euro¬ 
 pean nations, who possess not half his sterling worth, we 
 shall not contend for precedence here; nor do we doubt 
 but that the descendants of our pious forefathers, recently 
 placed under new and popular forms of government, which 
 every citizen has a direct interest to preserve inviolate, are 
 at the present period more orderly, quiet, and peaceful, and 
 governed with less difficulty, and by milder measures, than 
 is the superabundant population of the parent state. What 
 they will be, however, when their government has, like ours, 
 stood the test of a thousand years, and only improved by 
 the many fruitless attempts made to subvert it, is a secret 
 in the womb of futurity, to be revealed to the present 
 inhabitants of both countries, but when they shall know all 
 things, and shall themselves be known of all. 
 
 To his fair countrywomen, as in gallantry he was bound, 
 our learned tourist attributes every excellence of the 
 sex, save that he gently intimates an apprehension, that 
 their domestic economy may be rather less systematical 
 and perfect than ours, and that their activity may also 
 be somewhat less skilfully directed, than with us; but 
 these are points upon which we can assure his country¬ 
 men, (would, for their interest, and that of the Chris¬ 
 tian church, though not his own, we could assure him!) 
 our fashionable mode of female education will not leave 
 them long behind us, unless indeed similar false steps (of 
 which, by the way, in his strictures on the education of 
 “ young misses,” the Doctor seems to have traced the ear¬ 
 lier ones,) should as rapidly unfit the daughter for the 
 mother and the wife, and convert, as, generally speaking, it 
 has done with us, ladies’ boarding-schools (we beg par¬ 
 don, £ establishments’ we should have said,) to nuisances, 
 instead of benefits. It is hardly worth notice, but as some 
 of our readers may feel a little curiosity upon the subject, 
 we will state in a word, that the ladies of New-England are 
 said, for the most part, to be regularly featured, comely, and 
 frequently handsome; not so fair indeed as British, but, to 
 use the very phrase of their American panegyrist, “ sensibly 
 fairer than trench women.” It is admitted, however, that, 
 like the women of other American states, they lose the bril- 
 liancy of their beauty and of youth at an earlier period of 
 life than do those of England, many of them shedding their 
 teeth and growing old at thirty. Excessive abstemious- 
 
79 
 
 Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 
 
 ness, and want of exercise, (walking being very little prac¬ 
 tised, and riding on horseback scarcely known among them,) 
 are judiciously suggested as some of the prevailing causes 
 of this national difference in the sex. 
 
 But pass we now from beauty which fadeth as a flower, 
 to that which shineth as the brightness of the sun, increas¬ 
 ing more and more unto the perfect day. The religious 
 character of the New-Englanders is that in which, we doubt 
 not, our readers will feel most interested ; and on this 
 point Dr. Dwight has entered into a minute detail of near 
 a hundred closely printed pages, from which we can but 
 very briefly extract the result. To the influx of foreigners 
 during the war in America between the French and Eng¬ 
 lish, from 1755 to 1763, of whom the dissipated and often 
 sceptical officers of our own army were not the least inju¬ 
 rious, and during that revolutionary one also, ■which termi¬ 
 nated in the independence of our colonies;—to the rapid 
 spread of the irreligious and infidel tenets which were so 
 uniformly blended with the political ones of the French 
 revolution,—and in a degree at least not inferior to the poli¬ 
 tical dissensions and party spirit which long prevailed at 
 home—Dr. Dwight very sensibly attributes a deterioration 
 in the religious character of the Americans, affecting, how 7 - 
 ever, as might naturally be expected, less materially than 
 any other sfate of the Union, the New-England descendants 
 of 'our expatriated Puritans. As a people, they still merit 
 the characteristic distinction of a religious one, and one of 
 those extensive revivals, of which from America we read so 
 much, and in the experience of our own country, where the 
 progress of the gospel has of late years been slow and sure, 
 rather than marked by its rapidity and eclat, we know so 
 little,—happily counteracted the dangerous effects of these 
 powerful agents of infidelity, and have left the church there 
 more numerous than ever it was, and (to adopt an Ameri¬ 
 canism, pardonable perhaps w’hen writing on America,) 
 still progressing in numbers, and we fain would hope, in piety 
 and zeal. In the first of these Christian graces, we never¬ 
 theless despair of their ever attaining to the stature of their 
 forefathers, though they have alseady surpassed them in the 
 proper direction of the latter. What those were, and these 
 are, how far they resemble each other, and in what they 
 differ, let the following well-drawn parallel of Dr. Dwight, 
 informs us. 
 
 “ The present state of our moral and religious character cannot, 
 
80 Review.—State of New-England and New- York. 
 
 perhaps, be more advantageously illustrated, than by a comparison 
 of it with that of our ancestors. The religion of former times was 
 more zealous, rigid, scrupulous, and uniform. At the same time 
 it was less catholic, gentle, indulgent in lawful cases, graceful, and 
 amiable. The strictness, the energy, the commanding character of 
 their religion, we have in a great measure lost. Where they stood 
 firmly against the blast, we bend to escape its force. Where they 
 watched, we are asleep. Where they fought manfully, we are 
 employed in parleying. Where they triumphed, we are satisfied 
 with a drawn battle. On the other hand, we have, in some 
 respects, advantageously relaxed from their austerity and rigour. 
 We live more kindly and evangelically with Christians of other 
 denominations. Our religious controversies are less violent; and 
 we regard fewer things as fundamental grounds of difference. On 
 the other hand, they educated their families more virtuously, regu¬ 
 lated society with greater skill, executed laws with more exactness, 
 and settled the affairs of men on a more solid foundation. They 
 chiefly exhibited the magnanimous, we the gentler virtues. Ours 
 are more amiable, but less firm. Theirs were rough and uninviting, 
 but more to be relied on. In justice to these excellent men, it 
 ought to be added, that to them we are indebted for almost every 
 thing in our character which merits commendation. In some 
 respects we have polished, but, upon the whole, instead of improv¬ 
 ing, we have impaired their system.” [vol. iv. pp. 378, 379.] 
 
 In one important point, the due observance of the sab¬ 
 bath, it is but justice to the present race of New-England- 
 ers to state, that, like their forefathers, they stand honourably 
 distinguished from most other people of the world. In 
 the two principal states, of Massachusetts and Connecticut, 
 travelling upon that day (with us, perhaps, in South Britain, 
 the greatest travelling day of the seven,) is peremptorily 
 forbidden by the law ; and in every other respect its sacred¬ 
 ness is generally observed with so great sobriety and strict- 
 ness,that—assembling in companies, as is done to so shameful 
 an extent in the dinner and musical parties of England— 
 going to taverns, or receiving guests there, are all of them 
 finable offences; parents and guardians being also required 
 to correct their children for breaches of the acts for the due 
 observance of the sabbath, (from convictions upon which 
 there is no appeal,) under the penalty of half a dollar. In 
 those states, provision is made by law, for the erection of 
 places of worship, and the support of a regular ministry 
 amongst every sect, for which purpose the states are divided 
 into parishes, consisting of one or more religious societies 
 of the same or different denominations, the majority of 
 whose members, rated on a real estate of nine, or a personal 
 
81 
 
 Travels bij Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 
 
 one of 134 dollars per annum, are empowered to choose the 
 ministers of the societies to which they respectively belong, 
 and to levy taxes for their support, and the repair of their 
 church, (for all are churches here,) and the maintenance of 
 public worship there. Within a year after attaining the 
 age of twenty-one, becoming a widow, or settling in a parish, 
 all persons have liberty to enroll their names in that religi¬ 
 ous society of the place which they prefer; or, in default of 
 such enrolment, the son belongs to the religious society of 
 the father; the widow to that of her deceased husband; the 
 new settler to the lowest on the list; and is of course 
 taxable with them by the vote of the majority already 
 explained, whose acts, as these societies are for various 
 purposes, bodies corporate in themselves, are binding upon 
 their successors. For the collection of what we, in Eng¬ 
 land, should call their church-rate, tax-gatherers are regu¬ 
 larly appointed; and persons refusing to take upon them¬ 
 selves this or any other office in the church, are as regu¬ 
 larly fined as in our parishes are those who refuse to serve 
 as constables or overseers. Negligent collectors of the 
 minister’s salary are liable to have a distress taken out 
 against them, by the committee for managing the tempora¬ 
 lities of the church, and to make up the deficiencies occa-' 
 sioned by their neglect out of their own estates; as are the 
 committee themselves, should they be guilty of a similar 
 negligence. In case of a collector not being chosen, the civil 
 magistrate, in the shape either of a selectman or a justice 
 of the peace, appoints one. Nor is this the only instance of 
 the interference of the secular authority with the concerns 
 of the church, for where there is but one society in a town, 
 its selectmen or chief civil authorities, are ex officio the 
 committee of the church; and as, in all other cases, are 
 bound, as such committee, to see the tax for paying the 
 minister’s salary speedily collected, and that salary duly 
 paid within two months after it has become due. Wherever 
 also a society shall have voted the erection of a place of 
 worship, the civil authority of the court of common pleas 
 determines its site; and in case of any attempt at erecting 
 one without its approbation first had and obtained, a fine of 
 one hundred and twenty-four dollars, (somewhat more than 
 thirty pounds,) is levied on the offenders; w’hilst, for omit¬ 
 ting to build after its sanction has been procured, the 
 court certifies the contempt to the general assembly of the 
 Congregational churches, by whose authority a sufficient 
 tax is laid upon the society, and expended under the direc- 
 VOL. VIII.—no. 1. g 
 
82 Review.—State of New-England and New-York. 
 
 tion, or by the appointment, of the assembly. That eccle¬ 
 siastical body has power also to determine what salary shall be 
 paid to their minister, by societies or churches, which have 
 made no agreement with, or do not support their pastor; 
 whilst they further direct what tax shall be laid upon 
 destitute churches, for the support of the ministry amongst 
 them. On their certificate of permission, churches unable 
 to support a minister have leave to tax themselves for 
 the preaching of the gospel, and other necessary purposes, 
 and they have a concurrent jurisdiction with the separate 
 churches, in allowing members to withdraw from the church 
 to which they belong. 
 
 It will be perceived at a glance, how essentially these 
 legislative provisions, so singularly combining and con¬ 
 founding lay and ecclesiastical authorities, church and 
 state, differ—the Congregationalists of New-England, (for 
 they form by far the majority of the inhabitants, though fre¬ 
 quently, and somewhat indiscriminately, termed Presbyte¬ 
 rians,) from the Independents or Congregationalists of our 
 own country, amongst whom no parochial taxations—no 
 connexion with a church or congregation but by your own 
 act, when arrived at years of discretion, and nothing like a 
 compulsory contribution either to support a place of wor¬ 
 ship, or its minister,—are known. Much of this, we are 
 aware, is fairly to be attributed to the different condition of 
 the denomination in the two countries; in one, as the preva¬ 
 lent, and formerly the established—in the other, but a 
 merely tolerated sect—yet are we anxious to claim for our¬ 
 selves the firmer adherence to the principles of the old 
 Independents, who would, we are satisfied, have exhibited 
 in their countenances other indications of astonishment, 
 than the smile which relaxes ours, at the argument em¬ 
 ployed by Dr. Dwight in favour of the practice of his coun¬ 
 try which we have just described, in a long and very elabo¬ 
 rate letter in “vindication of the establishment of the public 
 worship of God by law,”—that St. Paul, in his first epistle 
 to the Corinthians, (c. xvi. v. 2.) in thus providing for “ the 
 collection for the saints,” " upon the first day of the week, 
 let every one of you lay by him in store, as God hath 
 prospered him, that there be no gatherings when I come,” 
 has determined, “ that a tax is a right and proper measure” 
 for providing the salaries of ministers, although, could we 
 bring ourselves to believe that the text had any thing to do 
 with the matter in hand, we should draw a diametrically 
 opposite conclusion in favour of voluntary contributions only. 
 
83 
 
 Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 
 
 1 he education of young men for the ministry of the gospel 
 is conducted in a very similar manner to that pursued in the 
 Dissenting academies of England, save that their colleges 
 grant academical degrees, for which no extent of learning 
 or information is deemed with us sufficient to qualify any 
 man, unless he can conscientiously, or will unconscien- 
 tiously, subscribe to his belief in every iota of the articles, 
 liturgy, and homilies, of the established faith ; clogs upon 
 learning, which America happily has shaken off. In the com¬ 
 mencement of their ministrations, the Scotch Presbyterian 
 mode of licensing to preach for a given time is followed, 
 and the call of a particular church to any such licentiate, 
 (which call is determined upon, and given, in our English 
 Congregational form,) is submitted to the decision of a 
 standing committee of ministers of the district, called the 
 Consociation, by whom, if they approve his settlement, the 
 candidate is examined, and ultimately ordained. The aver¬ 
 age salary of the minister, is four hundred dollars, (£90,) 
 though sometimes it does not amount to 250 dollars, (sixty- 
 eight pounds fifteen shillings of our currency,) and in a few 
 cases may reach 1100 dollars, or nearly £250. This at least 
 is the general amount of their remuneration in Connecticut, 
 and that state has, throughout the present description of the 
 religion of New-England, been referred to as a specimen 
 of the whole, because, as it was the one with which 
 Dr. Dwight was most familiarly acquainted, he himself 
 has selected it for the purpose; assuring us at the same 
 time, that, save where we have followed him in particu¬ 
 larly noticing it, the other states differ but immaterially 
 from it. 
 
 In doctrine, the Congregational churches of New-England 
 adopt,in substance, the doctrinal articles of the Wesminster 
 and Savoy confessions; but in discipline more nearly ap¬ 
 proximate the Presbyterian than the Independent form, 
 having consociations in lieu of synods, and a general asso¬ 
 ciation in place of the general assembly. The ministers 
 have also separate associations among themselves, meeting 
 twice a year at least, to consult concerning the duties of 
 their office, the common interest of the churches, to examine 
 and license candidates for the ministry, to superintend 
 destitute churches, and recommend proper pastors, and to 
 take cognizance of the accusations of any of their own body 
 of heresy or scandal, and, if they see occasion, to direct the 
 calling of the consociation, to proceed against them. This 
 system of doctrine and discipline was, soon after its forma- 
 
84 Review.—State of New-Englaud and \ew- York. 
 
 sion in 1708, adopted, recognized, and established by law; 
 securing, however, at the same time, to all churches soberly 
 differing and dissenting from it, the full right of exercising 
 worship and discipline in their own way, according to their 
 consciences. Formerly the churches of New-England were 
 divided, in opinion and practice, with respect to ruling 
 elders, some of them admitting, others rejecting them ; but 
 they are now utterly discarded, to the great dissatisfaction 
 of Dr. Dwight, who holds the office to be of apostolic in¬ 
 stitution. For our own parts, we, however, are much more 
 disposed to join in his censures of the singular ecclesiastical 
 court of appeal in the second instance, which, after an 
 appeal from a single church to the association, permits the 
 case to be reheard by the same consociation, and a neigh¬ 
 bouring one invited to assist their deliberations as assessors ; 
 which is, in fact, little better than an appeal from the Pope, 
 to the Pope better advised. The general association is but 
 a deliberative, or, as Dr. Dwight has it, advisary body, 
 although their recommendations have great influence; and, 
 by means of delegates, they are connected with the other 
 states of New-England. 
 
 On the letter containing a “ comparison of the state of 
 religion in England with that in New-England,” we shall 
 make no remarks; because that comparison is instituted 
 between our established church in its worst features, and 
 the Congregationalists of New-England in their best, and 
 for the mode in which the chapels are attended in our uni¬ 
 versities, the profanation of the sacrament, in its compul¬ 
 sory reception by every student there, the state of patronage, 
 and neglect of ecclesiastical discipline in the church, and 
 non-residence, we are any thing but advocates; though we 
 should be disposed to add, the numerous pluralities in Old 
 as in New-England, to this catalogue of ecclesiastical 
 grievances, which, if not reformed in time, will speedily 
 reform themselves. We give, however, from this letter, a 
 single sentence of its account of the sermons of New- 
 England preachers, because it contains a short, but just 
 character of the compositions of two of our own divines. 
 
 “ None of them can boast the eloquence and sublimity of Robert 
 Hall; but some of them are eloquent and sublime. At the same 
 time, they are rarely trifling; rarely are they merely attempts to 
 display the preacher to advantage. We have no Sidney Smith 
 sermons; gewgaws intended to be shewn like a diamond-ring or 
 snuff-box, to prove that the preacher is the owner of such trinkets.” 
 [vol. iv. p. 429.] 
 
85 
 
 Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 
 
 Of the other sects of New-England, our zealous Presby¬ 
 terian tourist gives a very brief account, and we must needs 
 be still more brief. Several Arminians and Unitarians are 
 to be found in its eastern parts, especially in Massachusetts. 
 The Episcopalians principally inhabit the northern districts, 
 and are generally Arminians, or of our high-church party. 
 The Baptists are as generally Calvinists, though several of 
 them are Arminians. To the former especially. Dr. Dwight 
 attributes an excessive spirit of proselytizing rather to their 
 party, than to the church of God. The latter have adopted 
 the creed of a sect recently sprung up in Vermont and New- 
 Hampshire, who hold for their prominent tenet, “ that the 
 wicked will be destroyed on the day of judgment.” The 
 Methodists are principally Wesleyans, the followers of 
 Whitfield being very few. The leaven of Antinomianism is 
 here but too widely spread amongst the churches, especially 
 of the Separatitis, as those who avail themselves of the 
 permission of the law to avoid the support of a minister, 
 are usually termed. The Friends have several societies in 
 New-England ; the Roman Catholics and Independents one 
 or two; the Moravians and Jews a single congregation each. 
 These, with the exception of the Shakers, of whom more 
 hereafter, form nearly all the sects dispersed over its differ¬ 
 ent states. 
 
 Thus much for the civil and religious institutions of New- 
 England, and the general character of its inhabitants, 
 although upon the latter point we wish to add a particular 
 or two before we quit the subject, which we have reserved to 
 the last, because they may be important to those who seek 
 to mend their fortune by emigration to the United States. 
 The price of labour is high throughout the states of New- 
 England, but the labourers are almost universally idle, 
 diseased, or vicious. They might work, but they will 
 not, save for the attainment of a bare subsistence, very 
 easily obtained. The mechanics are, however, industrious 
 and prosperous. The tillers are, almost without exception, 
 the owners of the land, which is universally held in fee- 
 simple, and descends by law in equal shares among all the 
 children. It is not necessary for us to remark, how very 
 little encouragement this statement affords to the emigra¬ 
 tion of English agriculturists. 
 
 Few of our readers need perhaps to be reminded, that 
 New-England embraces the states of Connecticutt, Rhode 
 Island, Maine, Vermont, Massachusetts, and New-Hamp- 
 shire, through each of which we shall accompany our 
 
86 Review.—State of New-Engiand and New-York. 
 
 reverend and ingenious tourist, for the purpose of extracting 
 from his pages whatever information may appear to us 
 most interesting to an English reader, beginning, as he 
 does, with Connecticut, of which Hartford and New-Haven 
 are the capitals. Amongst the laws of this state which we 
 deem worthy of notice, is one imposing upon the inhabitants 
 of the different counties, the burden of defraying the ex¬ 
 pense incurred in consequence of prisoners confined for 
 debt escaping through the insufficiency of the gaol. On a 
 similarly equitable principle, townships upon whom is im¬ 
 posed, as (generally speaking, is the case also with us,) the 
 duty of making and keeping in repair the bridges and 
 highways within their limits, are compellable to pay to the 
 surviving relations of every person whose life is lost in con¬ 
 sequence of any defectiveness in either, 344 dollars, (<£77. 8s. 
 sterling,) as a fine for their neglect; and where carriage, 
 goods, or cattle, are lost from the same cause, they are to 
 pay double damages as a fine and compensation. Its laws 
 with respect to the poor and strangers, are very strict, we 
 should say, tyrannical; as every person not an inhabitant of 
 a town from birth, the vote of the inhabitants, consent of 
 the selectmen and civil authorities in public meeting assem¬ 
 bled, or by being chosen into some office, or having during 
 his residence in it possessed an estate in fee of one hundred 
 dollars value, or supported himself and family there for six 
 years, is removable by the civil authority of the town, or the 
 selectmen; the latter of whom have also the power to warn 
 all persons, not inhabitants of the state, to depart out of their 
 town, under the penalty of forfeiting about seven shillings 
 of our currency per week, so long as they neglect to do so ; 
 or, possessing no property, yet refusing to depart, of being 
 publicly whipped. Those who hire or entertain any such 
 inhabitants of other states, (apprentices and servants bought 
 for a time alone excepted,) and refusing to give security to 
 the satisfaction of the civil authorities and selectmen, to 
 save the town from expense on their account, are subjected 
 to the like pecuniary penalty per w T eek ; and for having en¬ 
 tertained any such person for fourteen days without reporting 
 him to the selectmen, shall themselves provide whatever 
 relief the stranger may afterwards require. For a free 
 republican state, these, we cannot help thinking, are mea¬ 
 sures for preventing vagrancy and parochial burdens, rather 
 stronger than (even since the passing of the new vagrant 
 act,) an English legislature would venture to adopt, or our 
 English population would patiently submit to. We apply 
 
Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux, 
 
 87 
 
 not, however, the same character to another legislative 
 provision of the state, which enables the selectmen to 
 apprentice out, or place in service, the children of poor 
 inhabitants, who either cannot or will not bring them up to 
 some honest and profitable calling, and properly provide for 
 them, or such as live idly, or are exposed to w 7 ant and distress. 
 This is a very wholesome power entrusted to their hands, 
 and we equally approve of the equitable provision against 
 the abuse of their office, by directing, that if they do not 
 truly account for the town’s money entrusted to their hands, 
 and pay over the balance to their successors, they shall be 
 committed to gaol at their own costs and charges, until they 
 do so. ‘ f Their powers,” says Dr. Dwight, “ at first sight 
 may seem enormousto us, w 7 e confess, they do even upon 
 a sober review; and it requires all the high respect w’hich we 
 unfeignedly entertain for his character, and the firm reliance 
 which we place on his veracity, to believe that he never 
 knew them abused, especially as their services, which must 
 be arduous, are generally gratuitous. A somewhat singu¬ 
 lar, yet in our opinion a very judicious, regulation pervades 
 this republican state, in the appointment of these and other 
 officers of its various towns, in the prohibition of any debate 
 at their election, save on the right of persons tendering their 
 votes, no discussion being consequently permitted on the 
 merits of the candidates, who are merely put in nomination. 
 Undue influence in procuring votes for a representative in 
 the state, legislature, or in congress, is very properly punish¬ 
 ed by a fine of seven dollars. The latter are nominated 
 seven months before the day of voting; a precaution peculiar 
 this state, and judiciously preventing elections from the 
 popular fury of the moment, or from the intrigues of factious 
 clubs, which generally guide the choice of other states of 
 the Union. Strong efforts have, however, of late years been 
 made to remove these obstacles to bribery and corruption, 
 the almost inseparable attendants on popular elections. 
 Dr. Dwight, with the foresight natural to a superior mind 
 like his, apprehended great evil from these attempts; and 
 we have reason to belieye, that, since his death, the cause for 
 such apprehension has been very much augmented. The 
 elections are, however, still conducted with an order and 
 decorum forming a striking contrast to those of our own 
 country, and even of other states of the Union. Dr. Dwight 
 assures us, that he never saw an individual intoxicated or 
 quarrelling, or heard a profane or indecent Avord, or even a 
 noisy conversation, at any of them. When will this be said 
 
88 Review.—State of New-England and New-York. 
 
 of us? The powers of justices of the peace are nearly the 
 same as in England, with this alteration, however, (it may 
 perhaps also be an improvement,) that they have cognizance 
 of all civil actions in which land is not concerned, where the 
 demand does not exceed fifteen, or, on bond or note, where 
 it does not exceed thirty-five dollars. 
 
 The criminal code of Connecticut was originally con¬ 
 structed on that near approximation to the Jewish law, 
 which distinguished the legislative institutions of Puritan 
 settlements; and worshipping false gods, witchcraft, blas¬ 
 phemy, adultery, where one of the parties was a married 
 woman, cursing or smiting father or mother, save when they 
 had grossly neglected the offending child or his education, 
 provoked him by cruelty, or forced him to strike in his own 
 defence,—and filial stubbornness and rebellion,—were ac¬ 
 cordingly punished with death. This, however, is no longer 
 the case; but at present the only crimes not punished with 
 death in England, which are capital in Connecticut, are 
 perjury, with a design to take away life, disabling the 
 tongue, and voluntarily depriving any one of his sight. 
 Neither robbery, burglary, nor forgery, are there punishable 
 with death, but with imprisonment for a term not exceed¬ 
 ing three years for the first offence, and for life for a second, 
 or wherever violence is used or threatened ; forgers paying 
 also double damages for the injury they have done, and being 
 rendered incapable of giving evidence, or serving as jurors, 
 within the state. Simple theft, and the receiving of stolen 
 goods, are, on the same principles of penal jurisprudence, 
 punished by a fine not exceeding seven dollars, and the 
 payment of treble damages. Where the offender is notable, 
 or refuses to pay the fine, he is punished by whipping, not 
 exceeding ten stripes; and if unable to pay the damage’s, 
 must make satisfaction by personal service. In these 
 respects, it is obvious that the code of Connecticut is at 
 once milder, more scriptural, and, w T e are inclined also to 
 think, more equitable and efficacious, than our ow n ; but by 
 it manslaughter is more severely and less justly punished 
 than it is with us, even now that a very wholesome statute, 
 recently passed, enables our judges, in aggravated cases, to 
 transport for it; the offender, inaddition to the forfeiture of 
 goods and lands, whipping and branding with the letter M. 
 in the hand, being there subject to a perpetual disability to 
 give a verdict or evidence in any court of justice,—a penalty 
 infinitely too severe, for a chiid being run over by a cart, 
 through the negligent driving of a carter, although we wili 
 
89 
 
 Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 
 
 ! 
 
 i 
 
 > 
 
 i 
 
 
 i 
 
 | 
 
 : 
 
 
 
 ! 
 
 readily admit, that it is by no means severe enough for the 
 duelist, who, in England, generally escapes under a verdict 
 of manslaughter, with a short imprisonment, the sentence of 
 death, to which as a murderer, in the eye of God and man, 
 those laws condemn him. In America, however, he rarely 
 meets with any punishment whatever, although in Connec¬ 
 ticut the law contains an express provision against an 
 offence, which is a still more crying sin in the country of 
 which she forms a constituent state, than it is in England; 
 for dueling is there prohibited under a fine of three thousand 
 dollars, by the person accepting, or even knowingly deliver¬ 
 ing a challenge, as well as he who gave it, and are perpe¬ 
 tually disabled from holding any office of profit or honour in 
 the state; and where unable to pay the forfeiture, are sub¬ 
 ject to close imprisonment for a year. The principals in a 
 challenge are also very properly required to give security 
 for their good behaviour during life. 
 
 Other laws of this state appear singular to us, though we 
 wish that their principle, if not their details, were rather 
 familiar than unknown to our criminal code. Thus, adul¬ 
 tery with a married woman, here but a ground for a civil 
 action for damages, for an injury which no damages can 
 compensate, is there punished in both parties, by whipping, 
 branding the letter A in the forehead, and wearing a halter 
 round the neck during their abode in the state, which 
 surely cannot be long, when, if found abroad there 
 without the degrading and very significant badge of their 
 crime about their necks, they are liable to receive a public 
 whipping of thirty stripes. Bigamy, with us a clergyable 
 or transportable felony, is punished in the same manner. 
 Horse-racing, where any bet or wager is laid, is an offence 
 proscribed by the laws, under the effectual penalty of for¬ 
 feiting the horses running, and the stakes for which they 
 run, together with a fine of fifty dollars upon every person 
 subscribing to such stake, and of thirty dollars each by 
 every stake-holder, rider of the horses, and printer or other 
 advertiser of the race. These are punishments and prohibi¬ 
 tions, at which w 7 e are aware that the lovers of this popular 
 but most demoralizing national amusement will smile in 
 contempt and scorn, branding them, as they do so, as puri¬ 
 tanical and methodistical; yet we would ask even them, 
 whether they form not a part of a more consistent system of 
 Christian legislation, than does the conduct of our own 
 royal Defenders of the Faith, who issue proclamations with 
 one breath for the suppression of all vice and immorality, 
 
90 Review.—State of New-England and New- York. 
 
 especially of all gaming eo-nomine, and with the other, gra¬ 
 ciously furnish from the royal purse, some twenty or thirty 
 king’s plates, to be run for at races, most notoriously 
 and pre-eminently the scenes of the very worst vices, in their 
 very worst enormities, of which gaming is the fruitful 
 parent. One other singular law of this state we copy rather 
 for its curiosity, and to shew the minute attention paid by 
 its legislators, the earlier ones especially, to every thing 
 that regards morals and decorum, than from any wish to see 
 it adopted here, although it might not be without its bene¬ 
 fits in putting a stop to at least one of the violations of 
 decency so common in our places of theatrical amusement. 
 We allude to that which prohibits the appearance of one 
 sex in the dress of the other, under penalty of a fine not 
 exceeding seventeen dollars. 
 
 In most other respects the laws of the state are very closely 
 assimilated to those of England, of which the common law 
 is that also of Connecticut, wherever its own statutes are 
 silent; and where that also is silent, our statutes passed 
 before the settlement of the American colonies, are some¬ 
 times appealed to and admitted as law—a tribute to the 
 merit of our jurisprudence, .not by any means confined to 
 this state of the Union. Whilst on this point, we cannot 
 deny ourselves the gratification of quoting from Dr. 
 Dwight’s valuable pages, the following liberal, though 
 strictly just acknowledgment of the advantages derived by 
 Americans from their former connexion with, and origina¬ 
 tion from. Great Britain. 
 
 “ T h e present race of Americans can never be sufficiently thank- 
 fill, that their ancestors came from Great Britain, and not from any 
 other country in Europe. In Great Britain they formed" most of 
 their ideas of liberty and jurisprudence. There, also, they found 
 their learning and their religion, their morals and their manners. 
 The very language which they learned in that country, opens to 
 their descendants, as in a great degree it had opened to them, 
 more valuable literature, science, and sound wisdom, than could be 
 found in all the languages of Europe united. In some branches 
 of learning 1 , the British have been excelled; in all they have 
 
 not been equalled. In science and sound wisdom they have no 
 rivals. 
 
 It is with no small satisfaction, that I see this language planted in 
 every quarter of the globe. Those who speak it, are almost abso¬ 
 lutely the only persons who appear solicitous to spread Christianity 
 among nations to whom it is unknown. By this dispensation of 
 rovidence, a preparation is, I think, evidently making for the 
 establishment of a general vehicle of communication for mankind, 
 
91 
 
 Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 
 
 by means of which the religion of the cross may, in its purity, be 
 diffused over both continents.” [vol. i. pp. 259, 260.] 
 
 The same candour which dictated this general acknowledg¬ 
 ment, induced the estimable and lamented author of these 
 travels, to admit also in detail, that although the processes 
 in the courts of Connecticut are often simpler than those of 
 the country whence they are derived, they are so, in some 
 cases, with manifest disadvantage, though in others, advan¬ 
 tageously. 
 
 “ Generally,” says he, “ there is less regularity in them, and 
 therefore less perfection. At the same time, they are usually 
 much less expensive. It ought to be observed, that they are 
 gradually approximating towards the system of the British courts.” 
 [vol. i. p. 260.] 
 
 For our own parts, we should hold it an improvement in 
 their laws, were that approximation to extend to the limita¬ 
 tion of a justification of a libel by its truth to the remedy by 
 action, although we are too well aware of the prevalence in 
 this country of an opinion, that it should be extended also 
 to indictments, to enter now into the grounds of the views 
 which we take of the subject, though in support of them an 
 opportunity may, on some future occasion, be afforded us of 
 saying a word or two. Other defects, however, are too obvious 
 to require more than pointing them out as we pass on; such, 
 for instance,as the dependence of the judiciary on the execu- 
 cutive department of the government, alike in the tenure, and 
 the emoluments of the offices of its ministers—the confine¬ 
 ment of criminals convicted of serious offences, in a dreary 
 cavern under ground; although w 7 e are free to admit, that 
 the general system of prison discipline of the state is very 
 superior to our own, especially in the care which is taken 
 effectually to separate the sexes by confining women in 
 totally distinct gaols. But a defect producing more serious 
 evils, is the law relative to divorces, which ever since the 
 year 1667 have been granted not only for adultery, fraudu¬ 
 lent contract of marriage, or an absence of either party for 
 seven years without being heard of, but for a wilful deser¬ 
 tion of husband or wife, for three years, or the omission of 
 that care and provision for each other and their family, 
 which is incumbent upon those who have contracted so near, 
 and as, save for scriptural causes, it ought to be so indisso¬ 
 luble a connexion. Against the demoralizing tendency of 
 this law. Dr. Dwight has entered a strong protest, equally 
 creditable to him as a divine, a patriot, and a politician. 
 
92 Review.—State of Nexo-England and New-York. 
 
 Before we quit the institutions of this state of the Union, 
 we would just remark, as very important departures from 
 our own legislation and policy, (in England at least,) 
 that marriages are celebrated by magistrates and ordained 
 ministers indifferently, but that to render them valid, they 
 must have been previously published before the congregation 
 assembled in some place of religious worship in the town or 
 parish in which each of the parties dwell, or have been 
 publicly notified in writing, in or near the door of some 
 church or meeting-house there, for eight days previous to 
 the celebration of the rite. Minors must also have obtained 
 the consent of their parents or guardians. And what more 
 than this, we would ask, can reasonably or equitably be 
 required from Dissenters here? Nothing, certainly, (save 
 perhaps a longer notice,) to guard against improper mar¬ 
 riages ; all that the state can be concerned to prevent, 
 whatever influence or emolument the church may fear to 
 lose. The last things we notice are, the religious character 
 of the inhabitants, which has occasioned the election in most 
 instances of men of probity to the highest offices of the 
 state, very frequently filled also by persons eminent for 
 their piety; the steadiness of their attachment to faith¬ 
 ful servants, evinced in the office of secretary of state, al¬ 
 though annually elective, having been filled by one family 
 through three generations—that of one individual having 
 for more than fifty years been chosen a member of the legis¬ 
 lature, and a fortiori, of the judges, though annually chosen 
 to their office, seldom holding that office but for life—and 
 finally, of the very trifling salaries paid to the governor and 
 chief-justice; the former receiving but 1200 dollars, (£270) 
 the latter but a thousand, or two hundred and twelve pounds 
 of our currency; a remuneration infinitely less than is paid 
 for their services to many of our mercantile clerks, and about 
 half as much as is made by the half-clerks and half-servants 
 of our leading barristers, waiting as they do, meanwhile 
 behind their master’s chair at dinner, attending to the door 
 of his chambers, and brushing the mud off the tail of his 
 great coat. Of this economy, some Americans are apt to 
 boast, as a striking proof of the Roman-like simplicity and 
 purity of their republican government. Not so, however, 
 does so candid and sensible a man as Dr. Dwight, for he 
 very judiciously observes, that 
 
 “ It cannot, however, be questioned, that this system has been 
 CcUried too far. The salaries of the principal public officers ought, 
 without a question, be considerably increased. The very least 
 
Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 93 
 
 winch wisdom or justice can admit is, that they should be sufficient 
 to furnish such a support for the incumbents as is decently suited 
 to their respective stations." [p. 258.] 
 
 Another glaring defect in the government of this state, 
 which seems to have escaped our observance, though com¬ 
 mon we believe to every state in America, is the resort to 
 lotteries, for providing for public improvements, such as the 
 building of piers, &c. Here also, as in some other states of 
 New-England, a very mischievous practice has long pre¬ 
 vailed, of dividing and subdividing counties and parishes 
 into districts, too small to afford i*espectable representatives 
 in the legislature in the one instance, or adequately to pro¬ 
 vide for the building of churches and the maintenance of 
 their ministers, in the other. 
 
 The prevalent religious denominations in this state are the 
 Presbyterian and Congregational. When Dr. Dwight wrote, 
 in 1812, it contained 21b Congregational, 9 Independent, 
 61 Episcopalian, and 67 Baptist churches, besides which, a 
 few Methodists are scattered over the state, in which no 
 material alteration in these numbers has since been made. 
 Though America is alike without the advantages and the 
 disadvantages of an established faith and mode of worship, 
 (whatever they severally may be,) she is not altogether free 
 from what many in this country consider one of the greatest 
 abuses of such a provision, the appointment of pastors to 
 flocks which they cannot feed; as, of the Episcopal churches 
 of Connecticut, more than half, and of the Presbyterian not 
 a few, are held by pluralists. Of the ministers of the 
 Baptist churches. Dr. Dwight, who was a staunch and 
 thorough-paced Presbyterian, speaks with more contempt 
 than liberality, representing their preachers as “ farmers 
 and mechanics, not a whit better qualified for the desk, 
 unless by superior volubility, than their hearers, taken at an 
 average,” generally unpaid for their services, and uneducated 
 for their sacred office. We rejoice, however, to learn from 
 a note of the publisher, that ten years has wrought a very 
 favourable revolution in a body of Christians, which in our 
 own country can boast of a Hall, a Ryland, a Carey, and, 
 alas! that we must only add, could boast of a Fuller, and a 
 Ward; and that considerably more attention is now paid to 
 the education of their teachers in holy things. Education 
 generally is so well attended to, that there is scarcely a child 
 in the state who is not taught reading, writing, and arithme¬ 
 tic, in one of the schools, which in number amount to about 
 2600, containing about 78,000 scholars. 
 
94 Review.—State of New-England and New-York. 
 
 Nevvhaven, one of the capitals of this state, exhibits a 
 scene no less delightful than it is singular, in the re-erection, 
 by mutual consent, of the places of worship of the different 
 sects on the same side of the same street, where the elegance 
 of their structure contributes greatly to the beauty of one 
 of the handsomest parts of the city. “ Rarely,” says our 
 author, and in fancy we realize the scene, “is a more beauti¬ 
 ful object presented to the eye, (I have never met with one,) 
 than the multitudes crossing the green in different direc¬ 
 tions to the house of God.” Religion flourished exten¬ 
 sively inNewhaven, the place of his residence, and scene of 
 his labours, for many years, in his time ; and we are happy to 
 learn, that its friends have since considerably increased, 
 both in number, in unanimity, and in zeal. “ Behold how 
 good and pleasant a thing it is for brethren to dwell together 
 in unity.” In the spirit of this text, the Methodists were 
 here enabled to erect their church by the liberal contribu¬ 
 tion of their fellow-citizens of different and even opposing 
 sects; and as those sects live together in harmony, they 
 are interred in one common cemetry, the description of which 
 is too striking not to be extracted. 
 
 “ The Honourable James Hillhouse, one of the inhabitants, to 
 whom the town, the state, and the country, owe more than to 
 almost any of their citizens, in the year 1796 , purchased, near the 
 north-western corner of the town, a field of ten acres, which, 
 aided by several respectable gentlemen, he levelled and enclosed! 
 The field was then divided into parallelograms, handsomely railed, 
 and separated by alleys of sufficient breadth to permit carriages to 
 pass each other. The whole field, except four lots given to the 
 several congregations and the college, and a lot destined for the 
 reception of the poor, was distributed into family burying-places, 
 purchased at the expense actually incurred, and secured by law 
 from every civil process. Each parallelogram is sixty-four feet in 
 breadth, and thirty-five feet in length. Each family burying- 
 ground is thirty-two feet in length, and eighteen in breadth ; and 
 against each an opening is made to admit a funeral procession. At 
 the divisions, between the lots, trees are set out in the alleys, and 
 the name of each proprietor is marked on the railing. The monu¬ 
 ments in this ground are almost universally of marble, in a few 
 instances from Italy; in the rest, found in this and the neighbour¬ 
 ing states. A considerable number are obelisks, others are tables 
 and others slabs placed at the head and foot of the grave. The 
 obelisks are placed universally on the middle line of the lots, and 
 thus stand in a line successively through the parallelograms. The 
 top of each post, and the railing, are painted white; the remainder 
 or the post black. After the lots were laid out, they were all 
 
95 
 
 Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 
 
 thrown into a common stock. A meeting was then summoned of 
 such inhabitants as wished to become proprietors. Such as attend¬ 
 ed drew for their lots, and located them at their pleasure. Others 
 in great numbers have since purchased them, so that a great part 
 of the field is now taken up. 
 
 “ It is believed, that this cemetery is altogether a singularity in 
 the world. I have accompanied many Americans and many 
 foreigners into it, not one of whom had ever seen or heard of any 
 thing of a similar nature. It is incomparably more solemn and 
 impressive than any spot of the same kind within my knowledge; 
 and, if I am to credit the declarations of others, within theirs. An 
 exquisite taste for propriety is discovered in every thing belonging 
 to it, exhibiting a regard for the dead, reverential but not ostenta¬ 
 tious, and happily fitted to influence the views and feelings of 
 succeeding generations.” [vol. i. pp. 160 , 161 .J 
 
 To this singularly interesting spot, the monuments erected 
 to the memory of the dead, in the church-yard, placed 
 injudiciously, though in strict conformity with our English 
 custom, as absurd as it is general, in one of the finest^and 
 most crowded parts of the city, were all removed about two 
 years ago. This town, like most of those of Connecticut, 
 and indeed of New-England generally, is so thinly inhabit¬ 
 ed, compared with the larger towns of our own country, 
 that the houses are built at very considerable distances from 
 each other, in streets, which in summer are as verdant as 
 the fields. 
 
 Near Montville, lived towards the close of the seventeenth 
 century, Uncas, sahem or chief of the Pequod and Moha- 
 gan Indians, a firm friend to the English, w ith w hom he was 
 too prudent to quarrel, but who had no occasion to be proud 
 of their ally, on the score of superior civilization or huma¬ 
 nity ; for having defeated and taken prisoner a Narrhagansett 
 chief, who attacked him with twice his numbers, he put 
 him to death, and then, cutting a piece of flesh from his 
 shoulders, roasted and ate it, declaring, after he had done 
 so, in the true spirit of a savage, that it was the sweetest 
 meat he had ever tasted. 
 
 The conflicting claims of two towns in this state, 
 Lyme and New-London, to certain lands, formerly belong¬ 
 ing to the Indians, gave rise, it appears, to a species of 
 settlement of title, which we apprehend to be new in the 
 annals of civilized nations. 
 
 “ The land,” says Dr. Dwight, “ though now of considerable 
 value, was then regarded as a trifling object. The expense of 
 appointing agents to manage the cause before the legislature, was 
 
96 Review.—State of New- England and New- Yor k. 
 
 considerable, and the hazard of the journey was not small. In 
 this situation, the inhabitants of both townships agreed to settle 
 their respective titles to the lands in controversy, by a combat 
 between two champions, to be chosen by each for that purpose. 
 New-London selected two men, of the names of Picket and 
 Latimer: Lyme committed its cause to two others, named Gris¬ 
 wold and Ely. On a day, mutually appointed, the champions 
 appeared in the field, and fought with their fists, till victory 
 declared in favour of each of the Lyme combatants. Lyme then 
 quietly took possession of the controverted tract, and has held it 
 undisputed to the present day. This, it is presumed, is the only 
 instance in which a public controversy has been decided in New- 
 England by pugilism.” [vol. ii. p. 498.] 
 
 Gorton, a town on the borders of Rhode Island, seems to 
 have suffered from its proximity to a state in which a regu¬ 
 lar provision for a gospel ministry is held in abomina¬ 
 tion ; for when Dr. Dwight was there, it had been for a long 
 period without a minister, the last who had officiated, 
 though a very worthy man, being obliged to leave his people 
 for want of support, although they could, without inconve¬ 
 nience to themselves, have maintained three ministers at 
 least. It is but justice, however, to add, that in the state 
 of Connecticut, a similar destitution of the means of reli¬ 
 gious instruction, from a similar cause, is of very rare 
 occurrence ; and that before our author died, it no longer 
 existed here. In the adjoining township of Stonington, 
 reside, partly in small ragged and unhealthy wigwams, 
 and partly on the farms of the white inhabitants, in houses 
 built purposely for them, the wretched remnant of the 
 Pequod Indians, the original proprietors of the land, and 
 for a series of years the most formidable enemies of the 
 English settlers on the territory of their forefathers. Lazy, 
 dishonest, prodigal, thieves, liars, and drunkards; living 
 together without marriage, or any tie but their own lust, 
 half-naked and often half-starved, the former proud heroic 
 spirit of their race, terrible even to the prouder and more 
 heroic spirits around them, is sunk into the tameness and 
 torpor of a half-reasoning brute; all the vice of the original 
 being left, after all its energy has vanished. 
 
 The township of Stamford, containing near 6000 inhabit¬ 
 ants, affords an instance of the manner in which great part 
 of America was obtained by the Europeans who peopled 
 it, for it was purchased of the Indians by the agent of the 
 colony of Newhaven, for twelve coats, twelve hoes, twelve 
 hatchets, twelve knives, two kettles, and four fathom of 
 
97 
 
 Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 
 
 white wampum. The inhabitants of this state are, gene¬ 
 rally speaking, industrious, moral, and religious, but in 
 many of its districts, the prevalent practice of their inhabit¬ 
 ants to lead the wandering lives of hawkers and pedlars, 
 has had a demoralizing effect upon their principles, conduct, 
 and manners. 
 
 Massachusetts, the largest and most populous of the 
 New-England states, differs not in any material part of its 
 constitution from that of Connecticut. Its representatives 
 in the legislature are, however, far too numerous, equalling 
 in number those of Great Britain, with a population at 
 the least twenty times as large. Each town having, in the 
 elegant language of America, 150 ratable polls, sends one 
 member, and another for every 225 additional polls. Educa¬ 
 tion is provided for by law, in a most exemplary and effectual 
 manner; every town or district in the state, containing fifty 
 householders, being required to provide a schoolmaster to 
 teach children reading, writing, and arithmetic, six months 
 in every .year. Those containingone hundred householders, 
 are obliged to do the same for twelve months; those which 
 have 150, two such schools, one for six, and the other for 
 twelve months; and those having 200, an English school¬ 
 master, and another well qualified to teach Latin, Greek, 
 and English, in a grammar-school, each of them for twelve 
 months. Failing in this, or negligently performing the 
 duty, they are liable to penalties of from ten to thirty pounds. 
 Persons keeping schools, either for boys or girls, on their 
 own account, are required to be citizens of the state, and to 
 be furnished with a certificate of competency for their 
 office, from two ministers in the vicinity, and as to moral 
 character, from the minister, or a selectman, of the place to 
 which they belong. The academies already described, are 
 more numerous and better endowed than in Connecticut. 
 As to the provision for ministers, the laws respecting it are 
 essentially the same in both states, as indeed are their 
 legal institutions in general. Nor is there any very material 
 difference in the character of their inhabitants, save that 
 those of Massachusetts are somewhat more ardent, im¬ 
 passioned, and sudden in their affections and actions, 
 than those of Connecticut. 
 
 Of Boston, the celebrated capital of this state. Dr. Dwight 
 gives a minute description, for no part of which have we 
 room in our pages, save for the following very creditable 
 testimony to the detestation manifested by its inhabitants, 
 
 VOL. VIII.—NO. 1. H 
 
98 Review.—State of New-England and New-York. 
 
 of a practice which seems to be one of the crying sins of 
 their countrymen. 
 
 “ An honourable specimen of the Bostonian character was lately 
 exhibited. Two young gentlemen, natives, fought a duel: one of 
 them was killed, the other fled. The inhabitants, with one voice, 
 manifested an unequivocal wish to have the law executed upon the 
 survivor. Even his own friends are said to have made no efforts 
 in his favour. It is doubted, whether the same opposition to this 
 crime, and the same respect for the decisions of law, would be 
 found, in a similar case, in any other town of equal distinction. It 
 ought to be remarked, that the survivor was intensely provoked, 
 and had made numerous, unusual, and very patient exertions to 
 prevent the unhappy catastrophe.” [vol. i. p. 470.] 
 
 Religion, pure and undefiled, formerly flourished in a 
 most remarkable degree in this great commercial city, but 
 of late years Socinianism has made sad inroads and havoc 
 there; but vigorous efforts have, for some time past, been 
 making, to stem its progress and counteract its influence, 
 and most ardently do we wish them every possible success. 
 We regret, however, to have occasion to extract, from the 
 more recent tour of Mr. Faux, the following account of a 
 Bostonian sabbath, in the year 1819. 
 
 “ I accompanied one gentleman to church, an edifice inwardly 
 and outwardly splendid, and the congregation fashionable ; but I 
 thought the service and sermon very dull and insipid, and the 
 worship altogether inanimate. As Sunday here vanishes with the 
 daylight, I went in the evening to the Town-hall, to Caucus, a 
 grand political meeting of thousands of the mobocracy, met to 
 deliberate upon the choice of a state-governor, &c. The orators, 
 on the present occasion, being principally well-educated federalists, 
 seemed, some of them, eloquent and ingenious abusers of the 
 democrats, who angrily retorted on their opponents. Thus I found 
 two strong parties, which I am at present unable to define,except as 
 mutual haters of each other, like Whigs and Tories in England.” 
 [Faux, pp. 28, 29.] 
 
 To the beauty, elegance, and convenience of this great 
 commercial city, and its noble harbour, our English tourist 
 bears ample testimony; but of its inhabitants, he says, that 
 they are thankful for nothing, or, at least, they do not shew 
 that they are grateful for any thing. “ The poor,” he adds, 
 on the authority of a domiciled Scotch landlord of an inn, 
 “ are not wanted there, nor any where in the state of Massa¬ 
 chusetts, where many are unemployed, and nobody is satis¬ 
 fied.” He accordingly dissuades his countrymen from 
 
99 
 
 Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 
 
 emigrating thither, unless they can bring with them from 
 five hundred to a thousand pounds. 
 
 To his account of the character and manners of the in¬ 
 habitants of this city, with which, on the whole, they have 
 every reason to be satisfied. Dr. Dwight has appended a 
 letter on fashionable education, written in his very best 
 style, and equally adapted to the meridian of London as of 
 Boston. We therefore, very warmly commend it to the 
 attentive perusal of our readers; to" such of them, more 
 especially, as sustain the weight of the parental charac¬ 
 ter; whilst it contains many hints which might be profitably 
 perused by all, though we cannot but wish that less occa¬ 
 sion had been afforded for the severity of its remarks. 
 
 In this state, as in Connecticut, and indeed throughout 
 America, lotteries seem to be the favourite mode of effect¬ 
 ing public improvements, for by it the South Hadley canal 
 was mainly constructed, or rather rendered an efficient navi¬ 
 gation, It was at Hadley, one of the first townships in this 
 state, visited by our observing tourist, that the English 
 regicides, Goffe and Whalley, found for many years a refuge, 
 in the house of the Rev. Mr. Russell, the then minister of 
 the place; and during their close seclusion there, the follow¬ 
 ing singular event is traditionally said to have occurred. 
 
 “ In the course of Philip’s war, which involved almost all the 
 Indian tribes in New-England, and among others, those in the 
 neighbourhood of this town, the inhabitants thought it proper to 
 observe the 1st of September, 1675, as a day of fasting and prayer. 
 While they were in the church, and employed in their worship, they 
 were surprised by a band of savages. The people instantly betook 
 themselves to their arms, which, according to the custom of the 
 times, they had carried with them to the church, and, rushing out 
 of the house, attacked their invaders. The panic underwhich they 
 began the conflict was however so great, and their number was so 
 disproportioned to that of their enemies, that they fought doubtfully 
 at first, and in a short time began evidently to give way. At this 
 moment, an ancient man with hoary locks, of a most venerable and 
 dignified aspect, and in a dress widely differing from that of the 
 inhabitants, appeared suddenly at their head, and with a firm 
 voice, and an example of undoubted resolution, reanimated their 
 spirits, led them again to the conflict, and totally routed the 
 savages. When the battle was ended, the stranger disappeared, and 
 no person knew whence he had come, or whither he had gone. 
 The relief was so timely, so sudden, so unexpected, and so provi¬ 
 dential *, the appearance, and the retreat of him who furnished it, 
 were so unaccountable; his person was so dignified and command¬ 
 ing, his resolution so superior, and his interference so decisive; 
 
100 Review.—State of New-England and New-York. 
 
 that the inhabitants, without any uncommon exercise of credulity, 
 readily believed him to be an angel sent by Heaven for their pre¬ 
 servation. Nor was this opinion seriously controverted, until it 
 was discovered several years afterward, that Goflfe and Whalley 
 had been lodged in the house of Mr. Russell. Then it was known 
 that their deliverer was Goffe,Whalley having become superannuated 
 some time before the event took place.” [vol. i. pp. 317, 318.] 
 
 The bones of the former of these determined republicans, 
 on the house m which Mr. Russell lived having been pulled 
 down about thirty years ago, were found buried just with¬ 
 out the cellar wall, in a kind of tomb formed of mason’s 
 work, and covered with flags of hewn stone. It was said 
 also, that Goffe was interred near the spot, but—as he is 
 reported to have gone into Connecticut after the death of 
 his companion, thence to have removed to the neighbour¬ 
 hood ol New-York, where, though, the better to disguise 
 himself, he sometimes carried vegetables to market, he was 
 discovered, and on that discovery, to have retired secretly to 
 Rhode Island, lived there with a son of Whalley during 
 the remainder of his life—the traditions respecting him are 
 too obscure and doubtful to be relied upon. But be this as 
 it may, the place of their first retreat seems to have been 
 well adapted to their concealment, though surrounded by 
 beautiful scenery, which the strictness of that concealment 
 would not permit them to enjoy. 
 
 Dr. Dwight expressly disclaims all attempts to render his 
 tour interesting, by filling it with landscapes, a fault with 
 which he charges, and we fear with but too much reason, 
 many of our European travellers, who would, he observes, 
 and observes correctly, “ have been more agreeable writers, 
 had they been less liberal of their garnishing, and furnished 
 us to a greater extent with more solid entertainment.” It 
 would, however, be an act of gross injustice, at once to his 
 powers of observation and to the scenery of his country, not 
 to. direct the attention of our readers to his very glowino* 
 description of the view from Mount Hoylake, three miles to 
 the southward of Iladley, with which, in richness and gran¬ 
 deur, we apprehend that few scenes in England can com¬ 
 pete. It is too long, however, for extraction, we can there¬ 
 fore only recommend its perusal, in a work from which, but 
 for a like reason, several others of equal beauty might be 
 selected. Yet, to picturesque effect, the agriculture of the 
 country, which is that also of most of the other states of 
 JNevv-England, presents one very material obstacle, in the 
 walls of stone rudely laid together, (as with us, in some of 
 
101 
 
 Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 
 
 the mountainous regions of Cumberland, Westmoreland, 
 Lancashire, and Yorkshire, and even in the hilly districts of 
 Oxfordshire, Worcestershire, and midland counties,) being 
 substituted for the beautiful hedges, so generally used as 
 enclosures in England. In some of the districts of this 
 state, these hedges are formed by the natural growth of the 
 barberry, often spreading itself an unwelcome visitant 
 over a fifth, sixth, and even a fourth of the surface of fields, 
 from which it is extirpated with difficulty, save from the 
 stone enclosures, under which pass its bushes, and spring 
 up so numerously, as to render it almost impossible to eradi¬ 
 cate them. Their blossoms are said to emit an effluvium so 
 acrimonious, as to blast both wheat and rye, and even to 
 prevent esculent roots and other vegetables from living. 
 
 At Haverhill, the last town of this state, on the borders 
 of New-Hampshire, a natural curiosity is presented, in a 
 small island, situated in the midst of a lake, which has from 
 time immemorial floated from shore to shore, whenever it 
 was impelled by a violent w r ind. Trees and shrubs grow on 
 it, and it is covered with fresh verdure, so as, during its alter¬ 
 nations, to exhibit a scene picturesque as it is extraordinary. 
 
 Salem, the most ancient town in this extensive state, except 
 Plymouth, and the next in size to Boston,was once the scene 
 of the ministerial labours of the celebrated Hugh Peters, the 
 eccentric chaplain of Oliver Cromwell, who here originated 
 many improvements in the affairs of his parishioners, di¬ 
 recting them by his exhortation, and still more strong¬ 
 ly by his own successful example, into new channels of in¬ 
 dustry, and thereby laying the foundation of that commercial 
 prosperity which has rendered Salem, for its size, one of 
 the most industrious and thriving places in the Union. 
 The neighbouring town of Danvers is remarkable for a 
 supposed prevalence of witchcraft there in 1692, in conse¬ 
 quence of which, nineteen persons, the majority of them 
 members of Christian churches, and people of unblemished 
 character, were executed in the town or its neighbourhood, 
 whilst one man, according to the humane practice of our 
 then common law, was pressed to death, for refusing to plead 
 to so absurd a charge. Yet although the absurdity of pre¬ 
 ferring that charge was here carried so far as to lead to the 
 imprisonment of a child of between four and five years old, 
 as a witch, let not Europeans laugh at that instance of folly 
 in Americans—let not, especially, Englishmen place them¬ 
 selves on any superiority, in this respect, over their trans¬ 
 atlantic descendants, when it is remembered, that the philo- 
 
102 Review.—State of New-England and New York. 
 
 sophers, the legislators, the divines, of every country, were 
 at this period devout believers in the extensive diffusion of 
 this singular crime, for which, in our own country, and 
 in the same age, so profound a scholar, so devout a Chris¬ 
 tian, and so humane a judge, as Sir Matthew Hale, con¬ 
 demned to death, and delivered over to the executioner, 
 more than one of his innocent and persecuted fellow crea¬ 
 tures, unlamented victims of a superstition, to whose deadly 
 influence even his master mind willingly surrendered all 
 its mighty powers. 
 
 This state appears not to have adopted such severe 
 measures for the suppression of horse-racing, as that of 
 Connecticut, as, at Lynn, Dr. Dwight passed one of the 
 only two spots used as a race-course. 
 
 In noticing the condition of Williams’s college, on the 
 borders of this state, occasion is given to our author to 
 point out the defects of that and other collegiate institutions 
 of this country, in being all but utterly destitute of fellow¬ 
 ships, or any other endowments by which students may be 
 enabled to pursue literary inquiries to any extent; the pro¬ 
 fessorships alone excepted, and even they are, generally 
 speaking, but very moderately and inadequately supported, 
 and impose much active exertion upon those who enjoy 
 them. 
 
 On the side of Saddle mountain, in the immediate neigh¬ 
 bourhood of this university. Dr. Dwight procured an in¬ 
 teresting account of the ravages of a singular deluge of 
 rain, descending in a moment, to which the mountain¬ 
 ous parts of "New-England are occasionally subject, and 
 there called the bursting of a cloud ; nor, unphilosophical 
 as the term confessedly is, would it be easy to find one more 
 characteristic of a phenomenon, of which we extract the 
 following description. 
 
 “ In the antumn of 1784, in the latter part of the night, a deluge 
 of water descended from this mountain. A family, which lived in 
 a house at some distance from the foot of the mountain, not far 
 from a brook, were suddenly awaked out of their sleep by the 
 united roaring of the wind and the torrent. In their fright, they 
 hastily dressed themselves, and escaped from the house, the ground- 
 floor of which was, by this time, six inches under water, and fled to 
 that of a neighbouring inhabitant. When they returned in the 
 morning, they found their own dwelling so completely swept away, 
 that no part of it was left. The brook, through the channel of 
 which this flood discharged itself, had never before, not even in 
 the highest freshets, approached the house by a considerable 
 distance. 
 
103 
 
 Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 
 
 “ Mr. C-, in his excursion to this mountain, on the day 
 
 when we left Williamstown, followed the path of this torrent from 
 its commencement, through the principal part of the tract which it 
 ravaged. He informed me, that the channel worn by these waters, 
 began instantaneously a little below the summit, and was there, 
 and in various other places, as he judged, twenty feet deep, and, 
 where widest, at least twenty feet in breadth. A tract of about ten 
 acres was entirely desolated of its trees, which the flood and the 
 storm had thrown down, and which were lying on the lowest part 
 of the tract in heaps of confusion. The face of this ground was 
 now either bare, or covered with small shrubs, apparently sprung 
 up since the period of this devastation. Every appearance which 
 met his eye, corresponded with the opinion and language of the 
 people in the vicinity.” [vol. iii. pp. 234, 235.] 
 
 Maine, the next division of New-England in population 
 and importance, but which in his time, and indeed until the 
 year 1820, when it was admitted into the Union as an inde¬ 
 pendent state, formed a part of Massachusetts, seems not to 
 have stood very high in our author’s estimation, although 
 we cannot help suspecting, that religious prejudices had 
 some effect upon his judgment, as his complaints are prin¬ 
 cipally directed against schism among the people, or, as we 
 should term it, their exercising the undoubted right which 
 they possess, of thinking and acting in religious matters as 
 they please; the influx of “ ignorant, wandering, and unprin¬ 
 cipled preachers, too lazy to labour, blown up with spiritual 
 pride, and assuming to themselves the character and em¬ 
 ployment of religious teachers, because they believe them¬ 
 selves, as peculiar favourites, to receive immediate communi¬ 
 cations from Heaven,” and, above all, (a point on which we 
 observe that the reverend Doctor is always peculiarly 
 sore) the dependence of the clergy upon the precarious 
 pittance furnished at the good pleasure of their hearers, 
 rather than by the more sure mode of a compulsory payment 
 by legislative enactments. In this latter predicament, 
 however, the entire- dissenting ministry of England (with the 
 very few exceptions of endowunents,) stand at this moment, 
 and, we most ardently hope, will ever continue to stand. 
 
 The inhabitants of many parts of this state are, it appears, 
 very improvident with their wood; a fault so general, indeed, 
 in most districts of America, that our author expresses con¬ 
 siderable apprehension of its hereafter putting a final stop 
 to the progress of population, before it will have reached 
 to its natural height. The evil is, it appears, generally 
 acknowledged, and yet not a single efficacious measure has 
 
104 Review.—State of New-England and New- York. 
 
 hitherto been taken to stop its alarming progress. But few 
 circumstances of the journeys of Dr. Dwight through this 
 state, are particularly interesting. 
 
 The town of Lichfield affords a singular instance of the 
 manner in which settlements have been formed in this coun¬ 
 try, as, of upwards of one thousand inhabitants, not one had 
 a better title to house or land, than was derived from what, 
 in the middle and northern states of America, is called 
 squatting, that is, planting yourself in the wilderness on 
 any piece of ground you may chuse, without purchase 
 from, or even the consent of, the proprietor. To this pre¬ 
 datory invasion of undisputed rights, the weakness of new 
 governments compelled a submission at the time, which it 
 would now be alike impolitic and unjust to attempt to 
 supersede. 
 
 Amongst the natural curiosities of the state of Vermont, 
 one of the most singular is Mount Toby, extending about 
 thirty miles, and chiefly composed of breccia, or pudding- 
 stone, with a cave in it, undoubtedly formed by some violent 
 shock, and reaching directly across one part of the moun¬ 
 tain from east to west. At Bennington, another lusus na¬ 
 ture presented itself, in the ravages of swarms of grasshop¬ 
 pers of a peculiar kind, whose operations are thus described 
 by our tourist. 
 
 “ Bennington, and its neighbourhood, have for some time past 
 been infested by grasshoppers, of a kind with which I had before 
 been wholly unacquainted. At least, their history, given by 
 respectable persons, is in a great measure novel. They appear at 
 different periods, in different years, but the time of their con¬ 
 tinuance seems to be the same. This year (1798) they came four 
 weeks earlier than in 1797, and disappeared four weeks sooner. As 
 I had no opportunity of examining them, I cannot describe their 
 form or their size: their favourite food is clover and maize. Of 
 the latter, they devour the part which is called the silk, the imme¬ 
 diate means of fecundating the ear, and thus prevent the kernel 
 from coming to perfection. But their voracity extends to almost 
 eveiy vegetable, even to the tobacco plant and the burdock. 
 Nor are they confined to vegetables alone. The garments of 
 labourers, hung up in the field while they are at work, these insects 
 destioy in a few hours, and with the same voracity they devour 
 the loose particles which the saw leaves upon the surface of pine 
 boaids, and which, when separated, are termed sawdust. The 
 appearance of a board fence, from which the particles had been 
 eaten in this manner, and which I saw, was novel and singular, and 
 seemed the lesult, not ot the operations of the plane, but of attri¬ 
 tion, the cause of which I was unable to conjecture. 
 
105 
 
 Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 
 
 “ At times, particularly a little before their disappearance, they 
 collect in clouds, rise high in the atmosphere, and take extensive 
 flights, of which neither the cause nor the direction has hitherto 
 been discovered. I was authentically informed in Shaftesbury, 
 that some persons, employed in raising the steeple of the church 
 in Williamstown, were, while standing near the vane, covered by 
 them; and saw, at the same time, vast swarms of them flying far 
 above their heads. The customary flight of grasshoppers rarely 
 exceeds four or five yards, and their wings are apparently so 
 weak, as to forbid excursions extended much beyond these limits. 
 It is to be observed, however, that they customarily return, and 
 perish on the very grounds which they have ravaged.” [vol. ii. 
 pp. 384, 385.] 
 
 Sunderland, a town in this state, was formerly the resi¬ 
 dence of Colonel Ethen Allen, who was taken prisoner by 
 the British, on a mad attempt, which he made during the 
 American war, at the head of but one hundred men, to get 
 possession of Montreal. He was an avowed Deist, and 
 author of the first work published on the other side of the 
 Atlantic, against the Christian religion. The following 
 affecting anecdote evinces, however, the little faith which 
 he reposed in his own tenets in the hour of danger and of 
 death. 
 
 “ Dr. Elliot, who removed from Guildford in Connecticut, to 
 Vermont, was well acquainted with Colonel Allen, and made him a 
 visit at a time when his daughter was sick, and near to death. He 
 was introduced to the library, where the Colonel read to him some 
 of his writings with much self-complacency, and asked. Is not that 
 well done? While they were thus employed, a messenger entered, 
 and informed Colonel Allen, that his daughter w'as dying, and 
 desired to speak with him. He immediately went to her chamber, 
 accompanied by Dr. Elliot, who was desirous of witnessing the 
 interview. The wife of Colonel Allen was a pious woman, and had 
 instructed her daughter in the principles of Christianity. As soon 
 as her father appeared at her bedside, she said to him, ‘ I am 
 about to die; shall I believe in the principles you have taught me, 
 or shall I believe in what my mother has taught me ?’ He became 
 extremely agitated; his chin quivered; his whole frame shook; 
 and, after waiting a few moments, he replied, ‘ Believe what your 
 mother has taught you.’ ” [vol. ii. pp. 389, 390.] 
 
 Of the legislature of this state, at least of the legislature 
 as it existed some twelve or fourteen years ago, the follow¬ 
 ing passage in Dr. Dwight’s description of Vergennes, 
 gives us no very exalted idea. It is, however, the repre¬ 
 sentation of an American and a New-Englander, and there- 
 
106 
 
 Review.—State oj New-Euglu/id and New-York. 
 
 fore we may quote it at length, without any risk of sub¬ 
 jecting ourselves to the charge of libelling our republican 
 friends. 
 
 “ It was, indeed, intended for the seat of government, and so 
 are half a dozen other places. Whether any of them will ever 
 become what they so ardently covet, whether there will be a seat 
 of government in the state, or whether the legislature will continue 
 to roll upon wheels from town to town, as they have hitherto done 
 no human foresight can determine. The legislature itself has been 
 at least equally freakish with the projector of this city, and seems 
 at present little more inclined to settle, than any other bird of pas¬ 
 sage.” [vol. ii. p. 401, 402.] F 
 
 Neither of the government of Vermont, however, nor its 
 inhabitants, does the Doctor, himself a devout believer in 
 the superiority of his own state of Connecticut over every 
 existing government, entertain any favourable opinion for 
 through at least a dozen pages he expostulates practically 
 on the vices of all new settlements, from their being com¬ 
 posed of the very refuse of the older states, with so much 
 severity, that although we could safely recommend the cen¬ 
 sure to our anstocratical readers, we would advise its being- 
 passed over by those, who expect from American writers' 3 
 any thing like the sentiments termed radical and iacobini- 
 calon this side the Atlantic. His portrait of a genuine 
 democrat, and would-be patriot, dissatisfied with every 
 thing, and to whom nothing can give pleasure, is at least Z 
 highly coloured as it could have been by the most violent 
 antijacobin in this country. Ul 
 
 . The ccnsti tu ‘ion of the state of New-Hampshire is 
 altogether one of the best in the Union, the two branches 
 of the legislature, the house of assembly, and the senate 
 havmg each of them a negative on the bills passed by the 
 other, and the judges holding their offices during their good 
 behaviour ; a provision very much needed in some of the 
 large! states. In the limitation of seats in the senate to 
 Protestants we trace however a restrictive spirit, ill accor¬ 
 dant with the general liberality of the American statefand 
 irreconoleable as it appears to us, with the declaration of 
 its own constitution, that “ every denomination of Chris- 
 tians, demeaning themselves as good subjects of the state 
 shall be equally under its protection, and entitled to equal 
 
 ££dIT’anXf” 4 I", 0 ,b Ct shalleverbe legally suboV 
 
 uateci to anotner. In the same lust and eciuitablp cnirit 
 another article provides, that no person of 1 any religious 
 
107 
 
 Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 
 
 denomination shall be compelled to pay towards the support 
 of any minister, or place of worship, of a religious persua¬ 
 sion to which he himself does not belong. 
 
 Portsmouth, the principal town and seaport of the state 
 of New-Hampshire, is, like most of the towns of New-Eng- 
 land, built chiefly, if not entirely, of wood ; we need not 
 therefore be surprised to learn, that conflagrations have 
 frequently destroyed large portions of this ill-constructed 
 capital. 
 
 At Dover, a party of Indians once committed as gross an 
 outrage as ever disgraced the most savage horde of any time 
 or region of the globe. Being then professedly at peace 
 with England, one of their sachems or chiefs, and two 
 women, applied to Major Waldron, formerly governor of 
 New-Hampshire, for a night’s lodging; which was granted 
 with equal readiness and good will. In reward, however, for 
 this kindness, these fiends in human shape, whilst the family 
 were asleep, admitted a body of their warriors into his 
 house, and having knocked down their gallant and venerable 
 host, who was then in his eightieth year, by striking him on 
 the head from behind, whilst he was valiantly but ineffec¬ 
 tually resisting his numerous and brutal assailants, they 
 seated him in an elbow-chair upon the table, cut him across 
 the breast and stomach whilst he was still alive, severed 
 his nose and ears, and forced them into his mouth, and 
 finally, by placing his sword under him as he fell, termi¬ 
 nated his honourable and most useful life. To finish their 
 work of destruction, they then killed or captured the re¬ 
 mainder of the family, and set fire to their habitation. 
 
 Early in the next year, the neighbouring town of Bruns¬ 
 wick was attacked by a body of French, powerfully sup¬ 
 ported by these their fearful allies ; but they were driven 
 back, after they had killed about thirty and captured fifty 
 of the inhabitants. The treatment received by the latter 
 from their savage captors, though acting as the coadjutors 
 of men professing to be Christians, was horrible beyond 
 conception, and would scarcely be credible, were it de¬ 
 tailed by a writer of less unquestionable veracity than he 
 who thus affectingly relates it. 
 
 “ One of the prisoners, named Robert Rogers, a corpulent 
 man, being loaded with a heavy pack, found it impossible to keep 
 pace with his captors. When he had fallen behind them, thinking 
 himself out of their reach, he threw down his load, and attempted to 
 make his escape. The savages pursued him to a hollow tree, in 
 which he endeavoured to conceal himself, and, forcing him out, 
 
108 Review.—State of New-England and New-York. 
 
 stripped him, beat him, and pricked him forward on the journey, 
 until the evening arrived. They then made a feast for themselves, 
 and, tying the prisoner to a tree, (his hands being fastened behind 
 is back,) sang, shouted, and danced around him. When they had 
 sufficiently amused themselves in this manner, they made a great 
 fire near the unfortunate man, bade him take leave of his friends, 
 and allowed him a momentary respite to offer up his prayers to 
 his God. After this, they moved the fire forward, and roasted him 
 by degrees; and when they found him failing, withdrew the fire 
 again to a greater distance. Then they danced around him ; cut, 
 at each turn, pieces of flesh from his perishing frame; laughed at 
 his agonies, and added new pangs to this horrible death, by 
 insults and mockeries. With a refinement in cruelty, not obvious 
 to civilized man, they placed the rest of the prisoners just without 
 the fire, that they might be witnesses of the catastrophe. With 
 the same spirit, after his death, they seated his body, still bound to 
 the tree, on the burning coals, that his friends might, at some 
 future time, be racked by the sight. 
 
 “ Suc h was one, among innumerable specimens of Indian cruelty. 
 Such are the benefits of that state of savageness, which approxi¬ 
 mates nearest to the state of nature. Let modern philosophers 
 look on, and learn here how romantically innocent, gentle, and 
 amiable, man becomes in this, which they have been pleased to 
 extol as the state of human perfection. In the next panegyric, 
 which is pronounced on the state of nature by one of these o-entlc- 
 men, it is to be hoped, that he will recite, as a proof of its” bene¬ 
 ficent and delightful influence, the story of Robert Rogers ” Tvol i 
 pp. 387, 388.] ° L 
 
 To such would-be philosophers, men who, in erecting 
 their theories, overlook all fact, and contradict all experience, 
 we very earnestly commend this wholesome advice, which 
 has been our principal inducement to extract the passage 
 containing it. 8 
 
 At feomersworth, the next stage in his journey, our traveller 
 was entertained, much to his satisfaction, at an inn kept by 
 a Captain R. a circumstance which induces him to enter 
 into an explanation and justification of the inns of this state, 
 and indeed of most others in New-England, and even 
 throughout the Union, being kept by persons whose titles 
 indicate them to be men of some consequence. This he 
 does with much zeal; but although we are fully ready to 
 aumit with him, the propriety of houses of accommodation 
 for travellers being kept by persons of respectable charac¬ 
 ter, we are not convinced by any arguments which he has 
 adduced, that there can be the least (necessity for their 
 being kept by landlords, whose education and feelings as 
 gentlemen, would in most other countries be an insuperable 
 
109 
 
 Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 
 
 bar to their following such a pursuit. Colonel A. of the 
 Bear and Billet, Captain B. of the Goose and Gridiron, and 
 Mr. Justice C. of the Crown and Magpie, would, in any 
 country in Europe, appear so absurd an anomaly, that our 
 American friends must bear with our smiles at a combina¬ 
 tion of which, we doubt not, but that when their middling 
 classes shall have attained to the respectability of that grade 
 in old established communities, they will themselves be 
 ashamed, however they may affect to glory in it now. 
 
 Near Hinsdale, a border town of this state, an irruption of 
 the Indians, in 1775, issued, in the capture, amongst other 
 persons, of a Mrs. Howe, whose subsequent sufferings and 
 history are detailed in so interesting and affecting a man¬ 
 ner, that we cannot but refer such of our readers to it as 
 may wish to combine all the witching interest of a novel, 
 with a faithful detail of some of those extraordinary trans¬ 
 actions which occasionally form the romance of real life. 
 They will find it in the second volume of the work, pages 
 70 to 76. 
 
 Dartmouth college, near Lebanon, originally founded in 
 1769, by the exertions of the Rev. Dr. Eleazar Wheelock, 
 of Lebanon, in Connecticut, under the patronage of the good 
 Earl of Dartmouth, for the purpose of educating Indians, and 
 Missionaries to them, has failed of answering its purpose, 
 two natives only having ever graduated here; and it being 
 found difficult, and almost impossible, to get students from 
 among them, whilst missionary education was necessarily 
 interrupted by the breaking out of the American war, soon 
 after the foundation of the college, the work has since been 
 advantageously carried on by other societies, and through 
 other channels. By the education of from fourteen to fifteen 
 hundred young men, of whom a fourth devoted themselves 
 to the ministry, the college has, nevertheless, in another 
 way, conferred most important benefits upon the state in 
 which it is erected, and the Union of which that state is a 
 part. 
 
 In the neighbourhood of Bethlehem, a town not far dis¬ 
 tant from the White Mountains, Dr. Dwight found the roads 
 in a very bad condition, which leads to some observations 
 that cannot, we think, be uninteresting to our readers, 
 pointing out, as they very forcibly do, some of the difficul¬ 
 ties which their forefathers, by whose perseverance those 
 vast trans-atlantic regions were peopled, cultivated, and civi¬ 
 lized, encountered and overcame. 
 
 “ A reflecting traveller, passing over these roads, is naturally 
 
110 Review.—State of New-England and New-York. 
 
 induced to recollect the situation of the first colonists in New- 
 England, and to realize some of the hardships, which those intre¬ 
 pid people endured in settling this country. Among the difficul¬ 
 ties which they had to encounter, bad roads were no contemptible 
 one. Almost al! the roads in which they travelled, passed through 
 deep forests, and over rough hills and mountains, often over trou¬ 
 blesome and dangerous streams, and not unfrequently through 
 swamps, miry and hazardous, where wolves, bears, and cata¬ 
 mounts, haunted and alarmed their passage. The forests they could 
 not cut down, the rocks they could not remove, the swamps they 
 could not causey, and over the streams they could not erect 
 bridges. Men, women, and children, ventured daily through this 
 combination of evils, penetrated the recesses of the wilderness 
 climbed the lulls, wound their way among the rocks, struggled 
 through the mire, and swam on horseback through deep and rapid 
 rivers, by which they were sometimes carried away. To all these 
 evils was added one more distressing than all. In the silence and 
 solitude of the forest, the Indian often lurked in ambush near their 
 path, and from behind a neighbouring tree, took the fatal aim 
 while his victim, perhaps, was perfectly unconscious of danger ” 
 [vol. ii. pp. 280, 281.] * 
 
 At Davis’s Farm, a station in this thinly populated dis- 
 tnct, he met with another novel illustration of those hard- 
 ships, some of which are still entailed on the descendants of 
 these bold, laborious, and much-enduring; men, in a tract 
 recently ravaged by one of those destructive fires, which 
 kindled originally by the hunters to drive the prey from 
 their coverts, often do incalculable and irreparable mischief 
 
 to the neighbourhood, which they lay desolate and waste for 
 many miles around. 
 
 / «“> " 0 . long b^beenVnMht; 
 
 skirts, had spread over an extensive region of mountains on the 
 north-east, destroyed in its progress all the vegetation -mrl * 
 sumed most of the soil, consisting chiefly of vegetable mould The 
 
 d W ? aCt ;- r0m v the b f Se t0 the”summit, was CZTyvLelnl 
 dappled, while the melancholy remains of half-burnt trees which 
 hung here and there on the sides of the immense steeJ fiJvu ? 
 the picture of barrenness and death.” [vol. ii. p. 282.] P * fi hed 
 
 The state of Rhode Islan d differs from most other states 
 m New-England, of which it is the most insil^ficant and 
 the least, in that the sabbath is there neither noticed b v the 
 
 genera ' observ b a y „?e 
 
 when Di. Dwight wrote, many years had not elapsed 
 
Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. . Ill 
 
 since the market, the streets, and wharfs, of Providence, 
 its capital, were little less frequented, as marts and scenes 
 of business, on the Sunday, than on any other day. The 
 general feeling of the inhabitants had, however, so strongly 
 manifested itself against this profanation of the day of rest, 
 that but few carts were then seen entering the town, (which, 
 contrary to the usual order of things, and to experience 
 also, was more moral than the surrounding country,) and 
 their numbers had been yearly decreasing. The Rhode- 
 Islanders appear to be great sticklers for liberty, and even 
 carry their attachment to it to the height of absurdity, 
 having for many years gone w ithout a most useful turnpike- 
 road, through the very heart of their state, because turn¬ 
 pikes, and the establishment of religious worship, had their 
 origin in Great Britain, the government of which was a mo¬ 
 narchy, and the inhabitants w 7 ere, as they considered, slaves ; 
 as were also those of the neighbouring states of Masachusetts 
 and Connecticut, from being compelled by law to support mi¬ 
 nisters, and pay turnpikes. These, argued they, if they chose 
 to be slaves, undoubtedly had a right to their choice, but 
 free-born Rhode-Islanders ought never submit to be priest- 
 ridden, nor to pay for the privilege of riding on the high¬ 
 way. They accordingly jogged on in mud and mire, and 
 liberty, until 1805, when the impassability of their roads 
 compelled them to bow their free-born necks to the horrid 
 slavery of travelling on good, in preference to bad ones. 
 With a spirit so opposed to all improvement, and so inca¬ 
 pable of enjoying real, whilst it prompts to unfounded 
 clamour after fancied liberty, we are not at all surprised to 
 find, that the general features of this state were mean houses, 
 ill repaired miserable barns by the road-side, misnomered 
 churches, chiefly of the Baptist denomination, and a culti¬ 
 vation of a piece with every thing else, rarely, if ever, 
 exhibiting to the eye proofs either of skill or of success. 
 
 “ Every thing,’’ says Dr. Dwight, in passing the boundary of 
 his own state, to enter that of Rhode Island, “ indicates a want of 
 energy, a destitution of all views and efforts towards improvement, 
 a sluggish acquiescence in inconveniences and imperfections, which 
 a more vigorous disposition would easily remove, [vol. iii. p. 28.] 
 
 Less attention is paid to education in this state than in 
 any other of New-England, in consequence of which, its 
 inhabitants are more vicious, and its churches worse sup¬ 
 plied with ministers, than its neighbours. Horse-racing is 
 here a favourite pursuit. “ This gross amusement,” says 
 
112 Review.—State of New-England and New-York. 
 
 our author, and we quote his words for the benefit of such 
 of our countrymen as are enamoured of the sport, “ turns 
 polished men into clowns, and clowns into brutes.” The 
 sabbath was at this time, with very many of the people, but 
 a day of visiting and sport, and, with others, regularly de¬ 
 voted to their customary labour. So little indeed were 
 sacred things regarded there, that some of the missionary 
 societies of the neighbouring states treated, and not, it 
 would seem, without abundant reason, Rhode Island as 
 missionary ground. Our readers will not, however, be sur¬ 
 prised at the wretchedness of its moral and religious condi¬ 
 tion, when we inform them, that a considerable number of 
 the inhabitants of its trading towns were engaged in that 
 bane to every thing that is virtuous or good, the slave trade. 
 Vet we are assured, that they will rejoice with us, at 
 a very considerable amelioration in the condition of this 
 state, in the twenty years which have transpired since the 
 account of it was given, increasing wealth having, as we 
 learn from a note of the American publisher of this work, 
 imparted more liberal views to its inhabitants, particularly 
 of the large towns, with respect to the importance of educa¬ 
 tion to the community. Revivals of religion have also taken 
 place within these few years, in several parts of the state. 
 
 Turn we novv from New-England to New-York. 
 On the constitution of this state, we need not to make many 
 remarks, after the full account already given of that of 
 Connecticut, as a sample of the government of the sepa¬ 
 rate states of the Union, which, differing as they do from 
 each other in minute particulars, have the same general 
 republican and elective features. New-York has a council 
 of revision, composed of the governor, chancellor, and 
 .judges of the supreme court, to which all bills must be sent 
 before they are passed into a law by the legislature, and if 
 returned within ten days to the senate, or house of assembly 
 according as the bill may have originated in the one or the* 
 othei of those bodies, with their objections in writing, to 
 its passing into a law, these objections must be considered, 
 and recorded, in the nature of a protest, upon the minutes of 
 the house; but if two-thirds of the members still adhere to 
 the bill, it passes. Of this, the nearest approximation to 
 our third estate, that a republican government can perhaps 
 admit, \ye are inclined very cordially to approve; though we 
 join with Dr. Dwight, in reprobating the practice of keep- 
 ing- the judges dependent upon the executive for the tenure 
 ot their offices; a fault common, we believe, to most of the 
 
113 
 
 Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 
 
 L nited States; and two other provisions of the constitution 
 of this very important one. These are, the council of ap¬ 
 pointment, formed of a senator from each of the four dis¬ 
 tricts of the state, annually elected by the house of assembly, 
 in whom, with the chief of the executive for the time being, 
 though he has, as president, but a casting vote, the sole 
 patronage is vested of the great majority of offices through¬ 
 out the state; all, indeed, but such as are elective in the 
 people, or by the legislature. The consequence of this 
 regulation is, the influencing of elections to the house of 
 assembly and the senate, of persons likely to serve the 
 electors ;and we have the respectable authority of Dr. 
 Dwight for asserting, that to secure this important patronage 
 to men likely to promote the self-interested views of its 
 members, the house of assembly is itself rendered a scene 
 of cabal and intrigue, often issuing in measures openly 
 subversive of “ law, principle, and decency.” The other 
 error is little less fatal to the stability of the constitution, 
 with which the due and impartial administration of justice 
 is intimately and inseparably connected; and in a large 
 commercial state like New-York, that object can never be 
 accomplished by a supreme court of errors, constituted 
 of the senate, the chancellor, and the judges of the superior 
 court, in which the deliberate decisions of the ablest and 
 wisest judicial tribunals are frequently reversed by a 
 majority of farming, mercantile, speculating, and office¬ 
 hunting senators, some of them without sufficient honesty, 
 and all of them wanting in legal knowledge, for the judgment 
 of the last resort, which it is their duty to pronounce. These 
 defects must be remedied, or they will remedy themselves 
 in a way not very propitious to the safety of the government, 
 many of whose provisions exhibit great equity and wisdom. 
 Such, in our judgment at least, is the ineligibility of minis¬ 
 ters of the gospel to any civil employment in the state, and 
 the enjoyment of perfectly equal rights and privileges by 
 members of every religious sect, without discrimination or 
 preference. To these every Englishman will be disposed, 
 with us, to add, the preservation of the great palladium of 
 our liberties, the trial by jury, inviolate; and the recognition, 
 as part of the laws of the state, of such parts of our own 
 common and statute law as were in force there in April, 
 1775 . 
 
 Pass we now to the ecclesiastical arrangements of the 
 state, which, as they respect the maintenance of minis¬ 
 ters of the gospel, differ very widely from those of New’- 
 
 VOL. VIII.— no. 1. i 
 
114 Review.—State of 'New-England and New-York. 
 
 England, and have a much nearer conformity to the mode 
 of supporting them, in use amongst the Dissenters of our 
 own country, though, if men of talent, piety, and probity, 
 they here experience but in a very slight degree; evils, 
 the most distant apprehension of which instinctively excites 
 our reverend tourist’s wrath. Thus, for example, in describing 
 the town of Paris, he says, 
 
 “ There are three Presbyterian congregations in this township, 
 and two clergymen. These gentlemen, though held in high esti¬ 
 mation, and deservedly loved by their parishioners, consider them¬ 
 selves as holding their connexion with their congregations by a 
 very precarious tenure. The laws of this state concerning the sup¬ 
 port of clergymen are so loosely, and so unwisely formed, as to 
 leave them in a great measure dependent on the fluctuating feelings 
 of parishioners, rendered much more fluctuating by the laws them¬ 
 selves. A voluntary contribution, except in a large town, is as 
 uncertain as the wind; and a chameleon only can expect to derive 
 a permanent support from this source. By several very respect¬ 
 able gentlemen, with whom I conversed largely on this subject, I 
 was informed, that the opposition to supporting clergymen by law 
 had lately very much increased among the New-England people of 
 this region. My informants believed, that not more than one-tenth 
 of the principal inhabitants, and not more than a twentieth of the 
 people at large, are in favour of this system. This is a lamentable 
 degeneracy.” [vol. iii. p. 177—178.] 
 
 Nor is the reverend Doctor better satisfied with the legis¬ 
 lative provision, authorizing religious societies of every de¬ 
 nomination to appoint trustees of their property, which may 
 be held to the amount of 3000 dollars, (nearly £640) per 
 annum, although such trustees are made corporate bodies 
 with a common seal, and empowered to regulate pew-rents, 
 perquisites, and all matters connected with the temporal 
 concerns of their respective churches. How infinitely less 
 are the legal rights with which the Congregationalists and 
 other dissenters in England are obliged to be content! for 
 their places of worship cannot be endowed with lands even 
 to the value of a shilling by the year, and are moreover liable 
 to vexatious assessments for the relief of the poor, and even 
 for the building and repairs of the parochial places of wor¬ 
 ship belonging to the Establishment. 
 
 The Sabbath is, however, directed by law to be strictly 
 observed; and a proof that it is so in practice, more to the 
 satisfaction of the tourist than this mode of proceeding 
 for the maintenance of the clergy, was afforded on his jour^ 
 neying with his companions from Saratoga to Cambridge, 
 
115 
 
 Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 
 
 on account of the latter containing a place of Evangelical 
 worship, which the former wanted. We give it in his own 
 words. 
 
 “ On our way, a decent Scotsman came up to us on horseback, 
 and very civilly inquired why we travelled on the sabbath; observ¬ 
 ing to us at the same time, that such travelling was forbidden by 
 the law of the state, and that the people of that vicinity had deter¬ 
 mined to carry the law into execution. We easily satisfied him, 
 and were not a little pleased to find, that there were people in this 
 vicinity, who regarded the law of the land and the law of God with 
 so much respect.” [vol. iii. p. 222.] 
 
 The most numerous denomination of Christians in thi s 
 state, as in New-England, is the Congregationalist, although 
 in the number of their churches the Baptists far exceed 
 them ; but then, those churches very frequently consisting 
 only of three or four families, but occasionally visited by 
 itinerant preachers, the number of members of course 
 bears a less proportion to that of their congregations than 
 in any other sect. As in New-England, the Baptist minis¬ 
 ters are generally uneducated men. Episcopalians, Quakers, 
 and Methodists, are the next numerous sects. Dr. Dwight’s 
 catalogue of which is closed by “a considerable number of 
 Nihilists,” a term, we presume, ingeniously invented to de¬ 
 scribe that most numerous of our English sects, those who 
 have no creed, and make no profession, at all. 
 
 Before we quit this subject, we cannot deny ourselves the 
 gratification of extracting a short passage, exculpatory of a 
 bodv of Christians, some of w T hose ministers we have the 
 pleasure to number amongst our friends and correspondents, 
 from the censure which our author pronounces upon most 
 other sects, for not making a proper provision for their 
 ministers. 
 
 “ The Dutch congregations are to be regarded as a general ex¬ 
 ception to these remarks. This sober, stedfast people, deriving 
 their birth from the United Netherlands, where the wisest plan for 
 supporting the ministry of the Gospel, which the world has ever 
 known, had been long adopted, came to America with fixed habits 
 concerning this subject, and have hitherto retained them. They 
 pay the salary, which they have once engaged, so long as the 
 minister lives, whether he be able or unable to officiate. In this 
 honourable conduct, it is believed, they stand alone, and exhibit 
 an example worthy of being followed by those of every other reli¬ 
 gious denomination.” [vol. iii. p. 261.] 
 
 No state of the Union has discovered a more munificent 
 spirit in the promotion of learning, than that of New-York, 
 
116 Review.—State of New-England and New- York. 
 
 in which a corporation has long existed under the title of 
 *' The Regents of the University of New-York,” invested 
 with full power to establish colleges and academies in 
 every part of the state, in which they may think them ne¬ 
 cessary. it is also charged with the general superintend¬ 
 ence of literature, and annually reports the condition of its 
 seminaries to the legislature of the state, which has pro¬ 
 vided with a liberal hand for the three colleges and fifty 
 academies already established, besides furnishing very large 
 funds for the support of the common schools. 
 
 Murder and treason are the only two crimes now capi¬ 
 tal here; felonies of all other descriptions being punished 
 by confinement in the State Prison for life; and most other 
 subordinate offences, by a similar confinement there for 
 shorter periods. 
 
 In morals, it seems not, however, to be so exemplary as 
 New-England; for at Weymouth, Dr. Dwight vras surprised 
 to find a considerable number of men and women of the 
 neighbourhood assembled round a table in the inn at which 
 he stopped, playing at cards, a thing he had never seen at 
 any of the numerous inns at which he had sojourned, in jour- 
 neyings of at least fifteen thousand miles—a fact which we 
 notice to the credit of the New-Englanders. 
 
 Near Stockbridge, he visited a village of Shakers, or 
 Shaking Quakers, to whose enthusiastic vagaries he de¬ 
 votes twenty pages of his work, where those who are 
 curious in tracing the singular aberrations of the human 
 mind, alike from sound reason and the plainest truths of the 
 gospel, will find much that may at once both please and 
 instruct them. Our limits compel us to be very brief in 
 our notice of this singular combination of blasphemy and 
 enthusiasm, which has happily confined itself, and will, we 
 hope, ever be confined, to the new world. The sect derives 
 its name, in which, unlike the epithets given to most sectarian 
 distinctions, they glory, from one of the leading tenets of its 
 members, that “ the work which God promised to accom- 
 “ plish in the latter day, was universally marked out by the 
 “ prophets to be a work of shaking;” in support of which 
 opinion they <^uote Haggai ii. 7. “ I will shake all nations, 
 “ and the desire of all nations shall come,” and in fact every 
 text, indiscriminately, that happens to contain the word 
 shaken , or any of its derivatives. Their great head was, 
 and though she has long since been dead, still is, with them, 
 Anne Lee, t|ie daughter and wife of a blacksmith, at Man¬ 
 chester; who, after having been imprisoned and confined in 
 
117 
 
 Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 
 
 a mad-liouse in this country, passed over to America iu 1774, 
 aud became the Johanna Southcott of another hemisphere. 
 She declared, and, what is more extraordinary, hundreds 
 believed, and still believe,her blasphemous declaration, that 
 she was the Word spoken of in scripture,—that in her Christ 
 appeared a second time,—that there are two persons in the 
 Godhead, the Father and Wisdom, or the Holy Ghost, who 
 is a woman, and held the place of the mother of whom Christ 
 was born the Son of the Deity; as was also Anne Lee, the 
 blacksmith’s wife, and the mother of lour children, the 
 daughter, by whom the Holy Ghost or mother is revealed, as 
 the Son is by the Father. But why pollute our pages with such 
 blasphemous absurdities? Suffice it to say, that after having 
 pretended to miraculous gifts, and proved her title to them, 
 by predicting the destruction of the world at a period long 
 since gone by, and with a claim to perfection which her 
 followers devoutly believe in having repeatedly got drunk 
 with spirituous liquors, which she called one of God’s good 
 creatures, this woman, notwithstanding the confident expec¬ 
 tations of her disciples that she was immortal, went the 
 way of all flesh in the year 1781, leaving her gifts to her 
 successors, who still lay claim to perfection, the miraculous 
 power of healing and speaking in unknown tongues. Some 
 of their tenets and practices closely resemble the very 
 worst features and dogmas of popery ; such, for instance, as 
 the infallibility of their leader—the denial of all right of 
 private judgment—the lawfulness of doing that which is 
 wrong, to promote the good of the church—the eternal 
 damnation of all without their pale—confession of sins 
 to the elders, (to whom they assert, that angels and de¬ 
 parted spirits also make confession of their transgres¬ 
 sions,) and penance in inflicting flagellations on their 
 disciples, and even making them scourge themselves. In 
 others, they resemble the New Jerusalem church, such as 
 hearing angels and departed spirits sing, and enjoying visions 
 of the invisible world. In some points of discipline, and a 
 few of doctrine also, the Quakers have evidently been their 
 model, though they have pushed the constant influence of 
 the Spirit, even in the minutest concerns of life, to a point of 
 absurdity to which the wildest fanatic in the early history 
 of the society of Friends never approached; as witness the 
 following ludicrous tale, which we should not have ventured 
 to extract from the pages of a writer whose veracity was not 
 so unquestionable as that of Dr. Dwight. 
 
 “ Among their other early peculiarities, this was one, that they 
 
118 Revieiv.—State of New-England and New-York. 
 
 were always under the immediate and inspiring guidance of the 
 Spirit of God. The direction of this divine agent was made known 
 to them by an involuntary extension of the right arm, pointing 
 always towards some object, or business, which, though absolutely 
 unknown to themselves, demanded, with a call from Heaven, their 
 immediate attention. A man of my acquaintance, whose mind had 
 always been wandering, who had gone from sect to sect, to find one 
 sufficiently religious, and from doctrine to doctrine, to find a scheme 
 sufficiently rigid for his own taste, ultimately attached himself to this 
 fraternity. A gentleman, at whose house he was with some other 
 company, asked him to drink some punch. He declined the pro¬ 
 posal, and said, that the Spirit did not move him to drink punch, 
 but to something else. In an instant his right arm was stretched 
 out, and he arose and followed the direction. It led him out of the 
 door, in a straight line, to a hog-trough, by the side of which he 
 dropped upon his knees, and made a hearty draught of the swill, 
 with a number of pigs, who were regaling themselves on the same 
 beverage.” [vol. iii. pp. 144, 145.] 
 
 They have, however, more successfully copied the neat 
 and industrious habits of so highly respectable, if some¬ 
 what enthusiastical body of Christians, as are the society of 
 Friends, maintaining themselves in a common fund by con¬ 
 stant labour, highly creditable to their own characters, and 
 advantageous to the whole community. Amongst themselves, 
 they live in great harmony, and their treatment of others is 
 fair, sincere, and obliging. If, on the one hand, they are so 
 fanatical as to term a succession of unmeaning, half-arti¬ 
 culated sounds gotten by heart, and jigged out to the tune 
 of Nancy Dawson, singing by inspiration in an unknown 
 tongue; it is but candid to state, on the other, that they hold 
 more soberly, that a dirty, slovenly, careless, indolent person 
 cannot be religious, and every member of their society is 
 accordingly required to be continually employed in mode¬ 
 rate labour. They have several establishments in New- 
 England, Ohio, and other parts of the Union. 
 
 In this respect, at least, their practice seems to be far 
 better than that of their neighbours, who between their set¬ 
 tlement and Utica, a distance of more than one hundred 
 miles, were generally in a low condition, both as to morals 
 and religion; fathers and sons being not infrequently seen 
 at the same gaming table, swearing at, and endeavouring to 
 win money from each other, and dealing out by wholesale 
 mutual recriminations for cheating and lying, whilst remain¬ 
 ing at the ale-house to a late hour of the night, in a state of 
 beastly intoxication. In close connexion with this spirit 
 of low gambling, a taste for horse-racing very generally 
 
119 
 
 Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 
 
 pervaded this district, and, as usual, calls for a severe vitu¬ 
 peration from the highly moral and religious tourist, whose 
 indignant censures of a diversion pre-eminently English, we 
 shall extract, for the edification of lovers of the turf at 
 home. 
 
 “ Among the causes which here assemble multitudes with high 
 pulsations of hope and pleasure, a horse-race is one of the most * 
 memorable. This diversion, when least exceptionable, is a deplo¬ 
 rable exhibition of human debasement. The gentleman here dwin¬ 
 dles at once into a jockey; imbibes his spirit; assumes his station; 
 and, what is worse, sinks to the level of his morality. The plain 
 man, at the same, becomes a mere brute; swears, curses, cheats, 
 lies, and gets drunk; extinguishing at once virtue, reason, and 
 character. Horse-racing is the box of Pandora, from which more 
 and greater mischiefs flow than any man ever counted or mea¬ 
 sured.” [vol. iii. pp. 161—162.] 
 
 At Brothertown, Dr. Dwight visited an Indian settlement 
 of forty families, in a considerable degree of comfort and 
 civilization, and following the peaceful pursuits of agricul¬ 
 ture. This interesting village, formed a part of the town¬ 
 ship of Paris, whence a few hours’ ride across and by the 
 banks of the Mohawk, brought them to Rome, a very hum¬ 
 ble rival of the eternal city, containing twenty houses at 
 the most. 
 
 In his visit to Long Island, which contains three of the 
 southern counties of this state, our observant traveller had 
 occasion to remark the ravages of the Hessian-fly, which 
 by regularly depositing its eggs in the autumn, just above 
 the first joint of the wheat, in the spring above the second, 
 and in summer above the third, deprives the ear of its 
 nutriment to such an alarming extent, as well nigh to have 
 compelled the discontinuance of its cultivation in Connec¬ 
 ticut, and materially to have diminished its produce in other 
 parts of New-England and New-York, to the amount of a 
 hundred thousand dollars a year. 
 
 The religious and moral condition of the inhabitants of 
 this island is very different to that of most other districts 
 of the important state of which it forms a part. This the Dr. 
 attributes to its insular situation—a strong attachment to 
 horse-racing—the attractive influence of the city of New- 
 York, separated from it but by a narrow strait, on persons 
 of intelligence and property—and, though last,not least, the 
 splitting up, as he has it, of the people into sects, leaving 
 the congregations small, and their ministers but ill-sup¬ 
 ported. Et hinc ill(E dolores. 
 
120 Review.—State of Neiv-England and New-York. 
 
 “ In various parts of these two counties the sabbath is considered 
 by many of the inhabitants as scarcely sustaining a sacred charac¬ 
 ter. It is devoted extensively to visiting, to amusement, and, 
 during the seasons of mowing and harvest, not unfrequently to 
 labour. In some places there are, for long periods, no ministers; 
 in others the people are the prey of ignorant teachers, recommended 
 by nothing but ardour and vociferation, [vol. iii. p. 318.] 
 
 In traversing Lake George, Dr. Dwight had an opportu¬ 
 nity of witnessing a mode of stag-hunting, as new to us as 
 it was to him. 
 
 “ The huntsmen with their hounds,” he tells us, “ rouse them 
 from their retreats in the forest: when they immediately betake 
 themselves to the water, and swim towards the opposite shore. 
 Other huntsmen, engaged in the business, place themselves on the 
 points, to watch their entrance into the lake. Each of these is 
 provided with a small, light batteau, which he is able to row faster 
 than the deer can swim. When he has overtaken the deer, he 
 despatches him with a stroke or two of his oar, and then tows him 
 back to the beach.” [vol. iii. p. 326.] 
 
 Bears are caught here in the same manner, except that, 
 being too dangerous to approach, they are shot. 
 
 To the description of New-York, the capital of this state, 
 two letters are devoted, in which the reader will find the 
 most minute statistical particulars of its condition, at the 
 period of its being visited by Dr. Dwight, although our ex¬ 
 hausted limits will allow of our noticing but few. One of its 
 most attractive objects to the curious visitor, is the State 
 Prison; but we have given so much more recent an account of 
 its condition in our pages, that we rather notice here, a 
 singular provision or two of the city Bridewell, in the abo¬ 
 lition of whipping offenders there, from its being found 
 revolting to the feelings of the community—the punishment 
 of idleness in the task-work which they are compelled to 
 perform, by lessening their allowance of food; their employ¬ 
 ment in repairing the public roads; and the entrance even 
 into this place of punishment and disgrace of American 
 pride of colour, in not permitting a white rogue and va¬ 
 gabond, liable, at the pleasure of the municipality, to be 
 chained to a barrow, as he wheels it along the public streets, 
 to be subjected to the greater degradation of being locked 
 up in the same prison-room, or associated in work, or other¬ 
 wise, with his fellow thief and vagabond the black. In the 
 city alms (or, as in England we should call it, poor) house, 
 it appears, that paupers are actually set to work, instead of 
 living iii a state of idleness and inaction, as they do with us; 
 
121 
 
 Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 
 
 in direct contradiction at once to the letter and the spirit 
 of the statute which humanity provided for their relief. 
 
 The benevolent societies of this capital are very numer¬ 
 ous, and many of them (especially those under the direction 
 of the ladies,) are productive of great benefit to the objects 
 of their bounty. We regret, however, to find, that amongst 
 the other sex, societies professedly established for charitable 
 purposes are made most convenient and effectual political 
 engines in influencing elections. 
 
 The inhabitants of New-York are remarkable for their 
 industry, but not so for economy, the magnificent and 
 expensive style of living, which has of late years been so 
 extensively introduced into most of our large commercial 
 towns, (where they are also sea ports, especially,) having 
 induced many of them to live far above their means; though 
 Dr. Dwight gives to its merchants, a character for fair and 
 honourable trading, which we have every reason to believe 
 to be their due. They are distinguished for hospitality, 
 and, generally speaking, by a virtue not always its associ¬ 
 ate, sobriety. The clergy of all denominations are here 
 highly esteemed, and treated with very great respect, as 
 we should expect would be the case in a metropolis, a very 
 large proportion of whose inhabitants are on the best 
 grounds believed to be religious; and where we are rejoiced 
 to hear and know, that evangelical religion and vital godli¬ 
 ness are making rapid progress. The vanities and amuse¬ 
 ments of this world are nevertheless pursued here, at least 
 with as much avidity as in most other large towns; theatri¬ 
 cal entertainments, assemblies, balls, concerts, and other 
 modes of killing time, being more favourite objects of 
 attachment and pursuit, than consists either with the pro¬ 
 fession of religion, or the possession, with a due attention 
 to its dictates, of common sense. 
 
 “ The general attachment to learning” is said, by Dr. 
 Dwight, “ to be less vigorous in this city than in Boston : 
 commerce having originally taken a more entire possession 
 of the minds of its inhabitants.” He admits, however, that 
 the character of those inhabitants has for some time past 
 been materially and advantageously changing in this respect; 
 and, as far as we can judge by a very extensive correspond¬ 
 ence with both cities, the love and the cultivation of litera¬ 
 ture is now pretty equally diffused through the capitals of 
 Massachusett and of New-York. 
 
 Columbia college, established in this city, is attended by 
 very many of the children of the more opulent inhabitants. 
 
122 Review.—State of New-England and New- York. 
 
 but it has the disadvantages of having no other tutors 
 than the professors, and of leaving the students to lodge 
 where they can in the city; a practice subversive of acade¬ 
 mical discipline, though one, we are fully aware, shared in 
 common with our Scotch Universities, and from which 
 Cambridge itself is not entirely free. With all the faci¬ 
 lities for instruction so abundantly furnished here, many 
 persons can yet neither read nor write, though, to their 
 shame be it added, most of them are Europeans. It can 
 scarcely be necessary to remind our readers, ere we quit 
 New-York, of the celebrity of its steam-boats, which afford 
 a ready and very convenient mode of conveyance thence 
 to the most distant parts of the United States, and to 
 Europe. With the spirit of improvement and of enter¬ 
 prise, which has prompted them thus extensively to avail 
 themselves of this important invention, we are surprised to 
 find that the inhabitants of this great city are still miser¬ 
 ably supplied with water, one of the first objects, we should 
 have thought, to which patriotic speculation would have 
 been directed. 
 
 In journeying through this state to the majestic falls of 
 Niagara, Dr. Dwight experienced some of those inconveni¬ 
 ences of meeting with inns but in names and signs, to 
 which travellers through the less frequented parts of our 
 own country, are (as we have often painfully experienced) 
 somewhat more than occasionally exposed; and the contrast 
 which they exhibited to the inns of his native state, seems, 
 as we should guess from the following vituperative philip¬ 
 pic, rather to have disturbed the wonted equanimity of his 
 temper. 
 
 “ About four miles from the ferry, we came to an inn, kept by a 
 Scotchman, named Hanna. Within this distance we called at 
 several others; none of which could furnish us a dinner. I call 
 them inns, because this name is given to them by the laws of the 
 state; and because each of them hung out a sign, challenging this 
 title. But the law has nicknamed them, and the signs are liars. 
 
 It is said, and I suppose truly, that in this state any man, who will 
 pay for an innkeeper’s license, obtains one of course. In conse¬ 
 quence of this practice, the number of houses, which bear the 
 appellation, is already enormous. Too many of them are mere 
 dram-shops; of no other use than to deceive, disappoint, and vex 
 travellers, and to spread little circles of drunkenness throughout 
 the state. The government probably derives from them a small 
 pecuniary benefit; but the purpose, for which the license is given, 
 is frustrated. No inquiries, if I am correctly informed, are made 
 concerning the character of those, to whom they are distributed. 
 
123 
 
 Travels by Dr. Dwight and Mr. Faux. 
 
 Not a question is asked, whether they are able or unable to enter¬ 
 tain travellers; whether they are men of fair reputation, or of none. 
 No system is formed, no restrictions are prescribed. The object is 
 left to chance, and the licenses are offered for sale, as goods, wares, 
 and merchandise. The effects of this negligence in the govern¬ 
 ment of the state are deplorable. A traveller, after passing from 
 inn to inn in a tedious succession, finds that he can get nothing for 
 his horse, and nothing for himself. At the same time he is mo¬ 
 lested, by night and by day, by a collection of dram-drinkers, who 
 offend his eye by their drunkenness, and his ear with their profane¬ 
 ness and obscenity; while they prevent or disturb his sleep, by the 
 noise and riot of their intoxication. In many parts of this state, 
 whether the object of the traveller be food or lodging, he must dili¬ 
 gently inquire, at a sufficient previous distance, for a comfortable 
 place of entertainment; and must shorten or lengthen his jour¬ 
 ney, so as to suit these indispensable purposes.” [vol. iv. p. 15.] 
 
 These, however, are some of the ordinary nuisances of 
 travellers in every country, even in our own, where travel¬ 
 ling is confessedly more convenient than in any other in 
 the world; pass we therefore, to some not quite so common, 
 in the treating of wolves around the path of our tourist’s 
 party, as they journeyed through the western regions of this 
 state, where these animals often do much mischief to the 
 flocks of sheep and other smaller cattle, and are sometimes 
 so bold as to attack men at day-light; whilst at night, com¬ 
 panies of them frequently compel individuals travelling 
 alone, to betake themselves to trees for safety, and have 
 confined them to their unpleasant lodging until the morning 
 dawned. From such an attack by day, and sucb a lodging 
 for the night, the present party was sufficiently secured by 
 its numbers, and reached in safety the falls of Niagara, which 
 have been too frequently described, to permit of our taking 
 any further notice of them in this extended article, (with 
 the main objects of which they are also utterly uncon¬ 
 nected,) than earnestly to recommend to our readers, the 
 very minute yet spirited sketch of them, drawn by Dr. 
 Dwight, on whose well-stored mind, their sublimity pro¬ 
 duced an effect similar to the disturbance of the mighty 
 waters beneath, and the lonely grandeur of every thing 
 around him. 
 
 The western states of New-York, through which the tra¬ 
 vellers retraced their homeward steps, exhibit frequent in¬ 
 stances of the singular disease so common in some of the 
 mountainous districts of Switzerland, and there called 
 goitres; and we learn, from information collected by Dr. 
 Dwight, that the same extraordinary and most unsightly 
 
124 Review.—State of New-Englandand New-York. 
 
 swelling of the neck, as extensively pervadesgreat part of the 
 regions lying north of the Ohio, and west of the Alleghany 
 mountains. Women are here more severely afflicted with 
 this disease than men, feeble than vigorous persons, chil¬ 
 dren than adults ; nor though in its later stages it increases 
 to great personal deformity, not only as an unnatural pro¬ 
 tuberance, but by imparting a disagreeable cast or distor¬ 
 tion to the features of the face, does any method of 
 cure appear to have been discovered, save in the re¬ 
 moval of the patient to a part of the country where the 
 disease is unknown, when it not uncommonly decreases, 
 and sometimes totally disappears. This circumstance shews, 
 that, as in Switzerland, the disorder depends upon some¬ 
 thing peculiar in the soil ; and the fact, that every district of 
 America, wherein this singular affection prevails, is calca¬ 
 reous, tends very strongly to confirm the ingenious sugges¬ 
 tion of Mr. Coxe, that the disorder is caused in Switzerland 
 by matter of that description there called tuff. 
 
 We are fully conscious of having far exceeded the limits 
 of a review in this present article, and therefore bring it 
 to a close, by briefly stating our reasons for this departure 
 from our usual course. Anxious to give our readers a correct 
 notion of the state of things in America, we have extracted 
 from a work of upwards of two thousand very closely 
 printed pages, the most interesting particulars of a native 
 American s account of New-England and New-York, as im¬ 
 portant as any of the states of the Union; and the singular 
 character and arrangement of that work has compelled us 
 to do this at unwonted length, or to leave our object in¬ 
 complete and unattained. The travels of Dr. Dwight con¬ 
 tain a great mass of valuable information, and many very 
 eloquent and entertaining passages ; but it is withal so 
 unusually heavy a composition; so full of minute and tedi¬ 
 ous details of insignificant circumstances, that we fear few 
 persons, unassured of their sterling merit, will have resolu¬ 
 tion to encounter the fatigue of wading through an accurate 
 enumeration of the various traders in lumber, butchers 
 schools, inns, tallow chandlers, Windsor-chair makers* 
 tailors, barbers, clergymen, lawyers, physicians, and sur- 
 geons—-or of the number of horses, oxen, and cows, 
 within the limits of a particular township. Nor will their 
 tedium be very sensibly relieved by long biographical no¬ 
 tices of men, whose lives furnish not incidents, and whose 
 
 gazine ^ ^ im P ortant enou gh> for an obituary in a ma- 
 
125 
 
 Travels by Dr. Dwight a?id Mr. Faux. 
 
 With some of these notices of men who took an active 
 part in the American Revolution, or who are otherwise 
 familiar to English ears, they will, however, we doubt not, be 
 us pleased as w'e have been, especially with those of the 
 Edwards, Bedell, Colonel Allen, Generals Arnold, Lyman, 
 Putnam, and Sir William Johnstone; nor will their author’s 
 very detailed, if somewhat national account of the prin¬ 
 cipal battles and leading incidents of the Revolution, and 
 the preceding wars with the French, be less amusing and 
 instructive. Most Englishmen will also be delighted with 
 the antigalican and antijacobin spirit pervading a work, 
 which, as the production of a zealous American, they would 
 have expected to exhibit other, and very opposite prejudices. 
 It also abounds with sketches of the history, character, 
 manners, and habits of the Indian aborigines of the coun¬ 
 try, as interesting as in most instances they are novel to 
 English readers. 
 
 Of the Americanisms, and other defects of its style, let the 
 following instances suffice:—“ sinuous ingenuity of the 
 French,” “ with water round the year,” instead of the year 
 round; “ semi-annual,” “ semi-capital,” “ lives at a provi¬ 
 dent distance within his income,” “ continually receiving 
 benefits for the efficacy of a moderate sum,” “ governmental 
 measures,” “ rectilinear integrity,” “the prisoners are confined 
 to hard labour, the avails of which go to their support,’ 
 
 “ we arrived at sun-down,” “ unwarping public spirit,’ 
 “ the Indians killed and captivated,” (meaning, captured, “a 
 lialf-shire town,” “ often they will not come together at 
 all,” “ and wears the aspect of thrift,” “ attest to the justice 
 of these observations,” “ views and intentions wholly diverse 
 from,” “a new bridge crosses the Connecticut against the 
 city,” “well-appearing houses,” “ the swamps they could 
 not causey,” “ the property designated in this bequest was 
 loaned on interest,” “ with a snail-like progress, therefore 
 we trembled through this part of our way,” “ any legal meet¬ 
 ing warned for that purpose,” “ a good degree of pro¬ 
 priety,” “ a good share of information,” &c. “ a counting- 
 room,” “a well-appearing man,” “ aside from the change of 
 hue,” “sparsely formed,” “the usual powers attached to the 
 o-abernatorial chair,” “ the waters of Lake George are fine 
 and potable,” “ 206 killed outright,” “ the school-law hereto¬ 
 fore recited,” “ scarcely at all inhabited,” “ a few other dis¬ 
 eases are rife in this country,” “its site is a handsome 
 plain, limited westward by hills,” “of this township we saw 
 nothing but a skirt.” 
 
126 Review.—New Method of acquiring the Reading of 
 
 To these, we may add the following entire sentences, or 
 material parts of them:—“ Sand appears, I think, evidently 
 to be a congeries of multifarious materials ;” “ in sufficient 
 season for divine service;” “ nor did I ever before mistrust 
 how much a human being can resemble a monkey“ our 
 travellers pursued their stag with entire decency;” “our com¬ 
 panions were even uncensurable for their wishes;” “ the water 
 is of an elegant hue, and appearing as if a soft lustre un¬ 
 dulated every where on its surface, with a continual and 
 brilliant emanation;” “ the beauties of the shore and of 
 the islands are at least double, by being arranged in the 
 tine expanse, below which they are seen in perpetual suc¬ 
 cession, depending, with additional exquisiteness of form, 
 and firmness of colouring;” “ those who can get along 
 with some aid, short of an entire subsistence, are left at 
 home, and called out-door poor.” 
 
 Of Mr. Faux’s book, we can only say at present, that it 
 is well worthy the attention of Englishmen proposing to 
 emigrate to America, though we intend to resume our notice 
 of it on a future occasion, in connexion with some Ame¬ 
 rican and English works, enabling us to give as complete 
 a view of the other states of the American Union, as we 
 have now done of its eastern ones, and the most impor¬ 
 tant of its middle division. 
 
 The length to which this has unexpectedly extended, 
 will, we are assured, excuse our substituting this review, 
 for our usual American intelligence; or rather, for not 
 adding, under that head, to the information collected here. 
 
 1. A New Method of acquiring the Reading of Hebrew with 
 the Vowel Points, according to the ancient Practice. By an 
 Experienced Teacher. On a Folio Sheet. London, 1822. 
 Ogle and Duncan. 
 
 2. An Easy Method of acquiring the Reading of Syriac with 
 the Vowel Points. By an Experienced Teacher of Oriental 
 Languages. On a Folio Sheet. London, 1822. Ogle 
 and Duncan. 
 
 3. An Easy Method of acquiring the Reading of Arabic with 
 the Vowel Points. By an Experienced Teacher of Oriental 
 Languages. On a Folio Sheet. London, 1823. Ogle 
 and Duncan. 
 
 We consider these modest and unassuming tables ad¬ 
 mirably calculated to answ’er the purpose for which they 
 seem mainly to have been constructed, the assistance of 
 
Hebrew, Syriac, and Arabic , with Vowel Points. 127 
 
 schools and private families, in the instruction of youth of 
 botli sexes, (for we rejoice to know, that the study of the 
 Hebrew language at least is occupying some portion of that 
 time which, in female tuition, was formerly wasted on mere 
 accomplishments, and even on more frivolous pursuits,) in 
 the acquisition of the three most important of the Oriental 
 languages, with the vowel points ; a mode of reading them, 
 the knowledge of which, to say the least of it, can do no 
 harm. These tables are divided into three lessons, the 
 second in each case containing the vowel points of the 
 language, (in the Syriac,both the ancientand modern ones,) 
 with the rules for their pronunciation, well illustrated 
 in the third, by their annexation to every letter of the alpha¬ 
 bet, the pronunciation of which is given in small Roman 
 letters under it. The Hebrew table contains for its first 
 lesson, the different alphabets in use among the Jews, 
 i. e. besides the one commonly adopted, the Rabinical 
 character, so called from its use by the Rabins, both in 
 printing and in manuscript, though the latter is now chiefly 
 confined to the Portuguese and Eastern Jews; and the Ger¬ 
 man Hebrew, employed by the German and Polish Jews in 
 works printed in their vernacular tongues. The other two 
 contain for their first lessons, the forms final, (separate and 
 joint) medial, and initial, of each letter, with its sound and 
 pronunciation, in Roman letters, which are also given in 
 the two last columns of the first Hebrew lesson. 
 
 From this brief account of their contents, and we cannot 
 from their very nature give more, the self-instructing student 
 in these Oriental Languages, and even those who have made 
 considerable advances in their acquisition, will be enabled 
 to determine, whether the small sum of four shillings and 
 sixpence, (for they are published at so low a price as eigh¬ 
 teen pence each,) would be thrown away in giving them a 
 place upon the walls of their study. We think not; but on 
 the contrary, very cordially commend them to the notice of 
 every one engaged in the acquisition of the Hebrew, Syriac, 
 and Arabic languages. 
 
 From the imprint, we conclude that their author is Mr. 
 Borrentslein,most probably a German teacher of languages, 
 in the metropolis; and though we never heard of his name 
 before, we are so pleased with the design and execution of 
 these cheap and very useful tables, as to receive, with pecu 
 liar satisfaction, the announcement of a concise Grammar 
 of the three tongues to which those tables relate, divided 
 into easy lessons, as a work which he is now preparing for 
 
128 
 
 Poetry. 
 
 the press. Several oriental grammars have, vve are aware, 
 been published within a few years, some of them books of 
 great merit; but they are so critical,abstruse, dissertational, 
 and withal so expensive, that for the work of tuition, we cannot 
 but consider a cheap and practical grammar of the Hebrew, 
 Syriac, and Arabic, by a practical man, a desideratum. 
 
 POETRY. 
 
 AFFLICTION. 
 
 “ WHOM HE LOVETH, HE CIIASTISETH !” 
 
 Ah, why, when I feel the soft hand of my God, 
 Should I murmur because of the pain ? 
 
 Oh, no!—let me cheerfully bow to the rod, 
 
 As I kiss it again and again. 
 
 The hand of a Father, in mercy is laid, 
 
 On the son whom he loves, to chastise; 
 
 And though I go down the dark valley to tread. 
 
 I’ve a rod, and a staff, and a prize. 
 
 That prize is not gold, nor is it diamonds rare, 
 
 Nor riches, nor honour, nor fame; 
 
 Nor garments made costly by silver so fair, 
 
 The Mammon of earthly acclaim! 
 
 ’Tis a crown, starr’d with wonders of richer array 
 Than all this vain world can afford; 
 
 More bright than the orient splendours of day, 
 
 And sure as the oath of his word. 
 
 His bow in the cloud is his promise to man, 
 
 I have seen it stretch’d over the sky. 
 
 And gaz’d with ecstatic delight on the span, 
 
 As the brilliant arch mounted on high. 
 
 Its colours have faded, but not in my mind 
 Has so faded the promise of rest; 
 
 For traces are left on my bosom behind, 
 
 Of the way to the land of the blest. 
 
 The cross on the mountain,—when darkness was nigh. 
 And Jehovah groan’d under the load; 
 
 When endless compassion gave Jesus to die, 
 
 And Heaven spread weeping abroad!— 
 
Poetry . 129 
 
 When blood was the sacrifice,— Christ was the Lamb, 
 And all nature beheld him expire, 
 
 An atonement for sin,—by the promise he came, 
 
 As “ with burning and fuel of fire.” 
 
 And will not my God, with his Son, freely give, 
 Whatsoever is needful for me; 
 
 When he bids me drink deep at the fountain, and live, 
 
 Of his grace, and for ever be free ? 
 
 Peace, peace, doubting heart, and no longer complain, 
 Thy Father is loving and kind; 
 
 He bids thee look up, and give sorrow and pain, 
 
 And thy sighs,-to the wings of the wind. 
 
 Then, on thy dear bosom, my Lord, I’ll recline, 
 
 Till doubt shall distress me no more; 
 
 Already, by faith, the great promise is mine, 
 
 And I long to behold and adore. 
 
 There, there I shall dwell in ineffable light. 
 
 And range the wide palace abroad; 
 
 And ever be thine, and be blest with the sight, 
 
 And the smiles, and the glory of God. 
 
 Piston. R. M. 
 
 EARTHLY AND HEAVENLY HOPES. 
 
 Soft was the slumb’ring dream, a gaudy train 
 Of exhalations, from a youthful brain, 
 
 Pass’d closely round my couch, and Hebe wove> 
 Her roseate garland,—Genius stood with Fame 
 Painting a thousand rainbows,—that my name 
 Would travel through the world, and hallow’d love, 
 With silken toils and lambent wings, would move 
 Elysian hopes. When, lo! they cruel fled 
 Quick as the vanish’d spirits of the dead. 
 
 I woke in tears,—I saw a heavenly ray, 
 
 Not bright, but pure; the dawning of a day 
 Free from illusion, and a gentle voice,— 
 
 O! ’twas the sweetest music—whisper’d peace, 
 
 And on my ravish’d senses still increas’d, 
 
 And bade me look for everlasting joys, 
 
 And antedate a bliss that never cloys. 
 
 I gaze, and am not mock’d,—a light is given, 
 
 A stream of glory from the throne of Heaven. 
 
 VOL. VIII.—NO. 1. 
 
 K 
 
 J.K.F. 
 
130 
 
 Poetry. 
 
 THE ADVICE OF NUSHIREWAN TO HIS SON HORMUZ, 
 JUST BEFORE HIS DEATH. 
 
 From the Boston, or Garden of the Persian Poet Sadi. 
 
 Hear, thou, my Son, the orphan’s cries. 
 
 And wipe the widow’s tearful eyes ; 
 
 Nor think the monarch can be blest, 
 
 Who lolls him on the couch of rest; 
 
 For, if the careless shepherd sleep, 
 
 When wolves are near,—who guards the sheep ? 
 Protect the people,—they alone 
 Secure thine empire, and thy throne; 
 
 Thou art the tree, and they the roots, 
 
 From which thy branch of grandeur shoots. 
 
 0 
 
 THE SUSCEPTIBLE MIND. 
 
 From “ Moral Pieces, io Prose and Verse, by LYDIA Huntley,” of Hartford. 
 
 Connecticut . 
 
 Hast thou seen the Mimosa, within its soft cell, 
 
 All shrinking and suffering stand, 
 
 And draw in its tendrils, and fold its young leaves, 
 From the touch of the tenderest hand? 
 
 Hast thou seen the young Aspen that trembles and si Hi 
 On the breath of the lingering wind ? 
 
 Oh! these are but emblems, imperfect and faint, 
 
 Of the shrinking and sensitive mind. 
 
 LIFE. 
 
 From the same. 
 
 Life is like a painted dream, 
 
 Like the rapid summer stream, 
 Like the flashing meteor’s rav, 
 Like the shortest winter’s day, 
 Like the fitful breeze that sighs. 
 Like the wavering flame that dies, 
 Darting—dazzliug on the eye, 
 Fading in Eternity. 
 

 APXIIZ., 1324. 
 
 “ On the Standard of Taste. ” An Essay intended to compete 
 for a Prize, given by the University of Glasgow. By the 
 late William Friend Durant.-Part I. # 
 
 “It is with good reason, says Sancbo to the Squire with the great nose, that 
 I pretend to have a judgment in wine : this is a quality hereditary in our family. 
 Two of my kinsmen were once called to give their opinion of a hogshead, which was 
 supposed to be excellent, being old, and of a good vintage. One ot them tastes it; 
 considers it; and, after mature reflection, pronounces the wine to be good, were it 
 not for a small taste of leather, which he perceived in it. The other, after using 
 the same precaution, gives his verdict in favour of the wine; but with the reserve of 
 a taste of iron, which ho could easily distinguish. You cannot imagine bow much 
 they were both ridiculed for their judgment. But who laughed in the end? On 
 emptying the hogshead, there was found at the bottom an old key with a leathern 
 thoug tied to it ---— 
 
 What is the Standard of Taste? Is it to be ascertained by 
 attending to that constitution, in consequence of which the 
 “common nature” appears at once “invariable” and “per¬ 
 fect?’^ Or, if “some particular forms or qualities from 
 the original structure of the internal fabric are calculated 
 to please, and others to displease;” and, “if in the sound 
 state of the organ there be an entire or considerable unifor¬ 
 mity of sentiment among men”j—in what way can we so 
 accurately determine the original constitution of the human 
 mind, as to be justified, in considering decidedly erroneous 
 every thing that deviates from one standard? Can we, from 
 what we know of the human mind, safely deduce the prin- 
 
 * Our limits compel us to make a division which does not exist 
 in the original Essay. Of that Essay, the father of its lamented 
 author, gives the following account in his most interesting memoir 
 of his singularly gifted son:—“ Though the Essay could not be pre¬ 
 sented for competition, both Dr. Wardlaw and I thought it not 
 undesirable, that a few of the professors, who knew and respected 
 my son, should see it. In a letter, dated March 2, Dr. Wardlaw 
 says, ‘ I have this morning sent the exercise on Taste to Mr. Mylne, 
 accompanied with an explanatory letter. It is one, I think, which 
 will more than maintain (dear lamented youth!) the high reputation 
 he had acquired. Alas! that that reputation should now attach to 
 the memory only, instead of attending, as we fondly but vainly hoped, 
 the living author, through an active, and brilliant, and (what is best of 
 all) useful career ! The perusal of it has only served to awaken all 
 my bitter, and, I had almost said, and I fear I might say, with too 
 much truth, infidel regrets. But, oh ! if all were as clear to us, as it 
 is to the Supreme Disposer himself, where would be the trial of faith? 
 where the room for the exercise of trust? ‘ Be still, and know that 
 I am God.’ ” + Elements of Criticism, cap. 25. 
 
 X Hume’s Essays and Treatises part i. essay 23. 
 
 VOL. VIII*—NO. 2. L 
 
132 
 
 The Standard of Taste: 
 
 ciples of criticism? Is it strictly true, that “ none of the 
 rules of composition are fixed by reasonings a priori V’* Is 
 " Taste a sort of compound power, in which the light of the 
 understanding always mingles more or less with the feelings 
 of sentiment ?”f Or, ought a line of distinction to be drawn 
 between “Taste and the natural sensibility to beauty?”;]; so 
 that the presence of the latter “ does not necessarily imply” 
 the existence of the former? Such are a few of the ques¬ 
 tions, to which our attention is demanded. 
 
 To avoid the perplexity which metaphysicians have intro¬ 
 duced into this subject, I shall take the liberty of stating 
 what I conceive to be the real object of our present inquiry. 
 Thus throwing out the extraneous matter which disputants 
 have so copiously introduced,—our labour will be consider¬ 
 ably diminished. How can we, in any instance, ascertain 
 the correctness of taste ? Here the subject naturally divides 
 itself into two branches; to each of which it will be neces¬ 
 sary to devote a share of attention. Our first inquiry, then, 
 shall be, In what sense can Taste be denominated correct ? 
 Our second, By what common standard is its correctness, in 
 any particular instance, to be estimated ? 
 
 First. In what sense can Taste be denominated correct. 
 
 Dependent as Mind is, for her first ideas, on those mate¬ 
 rial oigans which are, from their nature, solely conversant 
 with the phenomena of the material world, all our notions 
 on the subjects ot mental science have necessarily a very 
 strong affinity to those trains of thought by which the atten¬ 
 tion is more usually occupied. Few things, however, have 
 proved more injurious to the interests of knowledge, than 
 has analogical reasoning from the movements of matter to 
 the operations of the thinking principle. Any attempt to 
 elucidate the latter by a reference to the former, is apt un¬ 
 less managed with extreme caution, to degenerate into a 
 mere series of affected and unmeaning conceits. Never I 
 think, has the truth of this position been more fully dis¬ 
 played than by the writers who have discussed the question 
 
 We ^\ b i°t t0 COnsider ‘ 7 hese reasoners, not content 
 with establishing a metaphysical doctrine on nothing better 
 than the ambiguous meaning attached to a single word- 
 determined to push to its utmost extreme the fancied ana- 
 ogy between the external senses and the internal. Finding 
 themselves pressed by unconquerable difficulties, they have 
 
 * Hume ibidem. + Blair’s Rhetoric, lecture ii. 
 
 + k t art 8 Phl1 ' ^says, Essay iii. on Taste, chap. 3. 
 
133 
 
 An Essay, by W. F. Durant. 
 
 recourse to reasonings as inconclusive as they are unneces¬ 
 sary ; and, at last, are satisfied with evasion instead of reply. 
 The analogy between the sensations of the palate, and the 
 emotions of beauty—incomplete as it is—might, had it been 
 steadily prosecuted, have conducted them to a correct result. 
 But when met by objections, they attempt to account, on 
 principles already admitted, for facts apparently irreconcile- 
 able; and never seem to have examined the foundation of 
 their system, or to have suspected any defect in the premises, 
 of which their whole argument presupposed the correctness. 
 I ought, perhaps, to apologize for speaking so strongly with 
 reference to men of such undoubted superiority, as were 
 some of those to whose sentiments I have alluded. If, 
 therefore, I am occasionally compelled to express my decided 
 convictions on so delicate a subject, let it be understood 
 that my reflections are intended to apply, not to individuals, 
 but to opinions. 
 
 No maxim seems to have been at once more offensive, 
 and more perplexing, than the proverb, that “ there is no 
 disputing about tastes.” The analogy, which some writers 
 have been at such pains to verify, seems here completely to 
 fail. It may, however, throw no little light on the sub¬ 
 ject, if, without entirely deserting an illustration which 
 is by no means inappropriate, we spend some time 
 on the previous consideration of this particular propo¬ 
 sition. In the first place, then, neither an emotion nor a 
 sensation can be, in strict philosophical accuracy, denomi¬ 
 nated correct, or incorrect. “ If any one,” (I quote from 
 Dr. Blair) “ should assert that sugar was bitter, and tobacco 
 was sweet, no reasoning could avail to prove it.”* Nor, I 
 would add, to disprove it; if the assertion mean no more 
 than that the substances referred to, produce, in the parti¬ 
 cular instance of the individual who makes that assertion, 
 the effects here ascribed to them. If he be, however, para¬ 
 doxical enough to assure us that the taste of others resembles 
 his own ; in what way do we answer him ? Not by appeal¬ 
 ing to some common standard, of which he is so constituted 
 as immediately to recognize the authority; but by referring 
 him to facts. The question, we should say, is one that 
 must be decided by experience; and, to reason about it, is 
 foolish and unnecessary, because the testimony of all man¬ 
 kind is against you. 
 
 With the emotions of Taste, the cause is exactly similar. 
 Were any man to tell me that a Chinese temple, with its 
 * Blair’s Lectures on Rhet. &c. lec. ii. 
 
134 
 
 The Standard of Taste: 
 
 frippery ornaments, appears to him more beautiful than the 
 simple and majestic elegance of the Parthenon; I would 
 not attempt to disprove the asserted fact. The fact is, with 
 him, a matter of consciousness ; and, feeling as he does,— 
 he can no more doubt that the Chinese temple is, as far as 
 his sentiments are concerned, the more beautiful building of 
 the two; than, in the case above mentioned, he could ques¬ 
 tion the sweetness of tobacco, or the bitterness of sugar.— 
 If he were, however, to go any farther, and to assert, that 
 the object of his admiration excited the same emotions in 
 the breasts of others, I should again say, that this is a 
 question of individual consciousness; and that his state¬ 
 ment is opposed to the almost universal experience of 
 mankind. 
 
 How then does it happen, it will be asked, that, in cases 
 so strictly analogous, such different modes of treatment are 
 adopted ? No argument will alter the taste of my friend, in 
 the one case; and, however convinced he may be, that the 
 peculiarity of his sensations arises from some malformation 
 of the organ, those sensations remain unaltered. In the 
 other case, however, argument or thought may, and probably 
 will, be effectual in removing the first impression, and in 
 producing a relish for purer and simpler beauties: so far 
 from despairing of my object, I exert myself with the hope 
 of effecting it. I endeavour to shew him, that his present 
 sentiments are inconsistent with his feelings under ana¬ 
 logous circumstances ; and deduce the conclusion, that his 
 mistake arises from some unmarked association that has 
 influenced his decision. I point out the proofs of wisdom 
 which he may previously have overlooked. I shew him the 
 intended expression, to which his habits of thought may 
 have rendered him hitherto insensible. I trace, in every 
 portion of the edifice, the marks of superior intelligence • 
 and display, in the united whole, harmony of parts, and 
 uniformity of design. If I am able to convince his under¬ 
 standing, a new emotion succeeds to that which he before 
 cherished ; his bosom swells with sentiments of admiration • 
 and his feelings undergo a change corresponding to that 
 which has taken place in his intellectual habits. 
 
 The reason of this is sufficiently obvious: impressions on 
 the external organ are uniformly succeeded by sensation. 
 Emotion, on the contrary, is never excited without a pre- 
 vious intellectual operation. The same impression on the 
 material organ, uniformly produces the same sensation; 
 and the same judgment, or conception of the mind, is as 
 
135 
 
 An Essay, by W. F. Durant. 
 
 uniformly followed by the same emotion. While, however, 
 the same material substance, in contact with the organ, 
 generally produces the same effect on that organ; and while 
 the same material effect is always followed by the same 
 sensation; sensations themselves are not connected by so 
 close a tie with the conceptions to which they give rise; 
 nor, of consequence, with the emotions by which these con¬ 
 ceptions are succeeded. By producing a change, therefore, 
 in the judgments which we form with regard to the objects 
 of any of our senses, we produce a correspondent change in 
 the emotions to which the perception or the recollection of 
 these objects gives rise. An alteration in the intellectual 
 process affects the subsequent emotion as entirely as the 
 substitution of one body for another would affect the move¬ 
 ments of the nervous system, and the sensation conse¬ 
 quent. I should scarcely have deemed it worth my while 
 to expend so much time on the establishment of a proposi¬ 
 tion apparently so obvious, did it not appear that inatten¬ 
 tion has often betrayed the best writers into a strange con¬ 
 fusion of ideas, or, at least, into remarkable ambiguity of 
 expression. 
 
 Lord Kaimes, in his Elements of Criticism, commences 
 an essay on the standard of Taste, with the following 
 remarks: “That there is no disputing about tastes—mean¬ 
 ing taste in its figurative as well as proper sense—is a say¬ 
 ing so generally received, as to have become a proverb. One 
 thing, even at first view, is evident, that if the proverb hold 
 true with respect to Taste in its proper meaning, it must 
 hold true with respect to our other external senses: if the 
 pleasures of the palate disdain a comparative trial, and 
 reject all criticism, the pleasures of touch, of smell, of 
 sound, and even of sight, must be equally privileged. At 
 that rate, a man is not within the reach of censure, even 
 where he prefers the Saracen’s head upon a sign-post, 
 before the best tablature of Raphael; or a rude Gothic 
 tower, before the finest Grecian building; or where he pre¬ 
 fers the smell of a rotten carcase before that of the most 
 odoriferous flower; or discords before the most exquisite 
 harmony.”* Now, without at present noticing the general 
 tendency of the reasoning here introduced—what a confu¬ 
 sion is here of things that most essentially differ—of the 
 mere organic pleasure, and the emotions of beauty and sub¬ 
 limity ! The author evidently gives us to understand, that 
 we approve of an exquisite painting—are charmed with a 
 “ Elements of Ciit. chap. 25. 
 
136 
 
 The Standard of Taste : 
 
 sublime and expressive piece of musical composition—pre¬ 
 fer the architecture of a polished and intellectual people, 
 before that of military barbarians, in the infancy of civiliza¬ 
 tion—enjoy the delightful sensations communicated by a 
 fragrant nosegay, and shrink with disgust from the stench 
 of a rotten carcase—all on one and the same principle. For 
 this inadvertence, I find it difficult to account, since, how 
 close soever might be the supposed analogy between the 
 senses and the reflex senses—between the “ conviction” and 
 admiration of what Lord Ivaimes denominates “ the common 
 nature,” and that adaptation by means of which physical 
 gratifications are, through the external organ, derived from 
 its appropriate objects;—no man, surely, would confound 
 the sensation with the emotion, the physical with the in¬ 
 tellectual pleasure. The distinction between internal and 
 external senses (how obscure soever that distinction may be) 
 is, at least, a proof that a difference between them is ac¬ 
 knowledged to exist. Every argument adduced recognizes 
 the distinction by impliedly allowing that the subject is 
 capable of elucidation. And it surely need not be repeated, 
 that sensation is not susceptible of analysis, or of any proof, 
 illustration, or standard, beyond the feelings and testi¬ 
 mony of the individual. It is, therefore, certainly desirable 
 to attend to the distinction which I have just attempted to 
 lay down; because, although every author may not have 
 been led into errors so remarkable as those to which I have 
 just adverted,—scarcely any have, till of very late years, 
 expressed themselves at all unobjectionably. When Mr! 
 Hume, who was himself adverse to the notion of any new 
 or peculiar sense after having come to the important, 
 although imperfect, conclusion that “ reason, if not an essen¬ 
 tial part of Taste, is at least requisite to the operations of the 
 latter faculty’ *—goes on to speak of the organs of internal 
 sensation, and of their labouring under some defect, or beino- 
 ‘'vitiated by some disorder;” can we help regretting that he 
 is encumbered with this technical phraseology. Does not 
 even his penetration appear to have have suffered from the 
 influence of this forced analogy ? 
 
 In a word, nothing can be truer than an assertion of Dr. 
 Blaii s, of which, indeed, his own subsequent reasonings 
 afford a practical illustration—that “ there are few subjects 
 on which men talk more loosely and indistinctly than on 
 Taste.”+ This indistinctness is, as I have before hinted. 
 
 4 Hume’s Essays and Treatises, p. 2. Essay xxiii. 
 t Blair’s Lectures on Rhet. Ject. ii. 
 
137 
 
 An Essay, by VV. F. Durant. 
 
 attributable to the strange confusion of emotion with sensa¬ 
 tion. That this obscurity was the consequence less of in¬ 
 advertence than of a mistake which lay at the root ol the 
 system, may, I think, be gathered from the style of reason¬ 
 ing by which these writers support the opinions of which 
 they are the advocates. Dr. Blair has been pleased to give 
 us, in the following passage, some insight into the meaning 
 which he attaches to the term thus frequently employed: 
 “Taste,” says he, “may be defined the power of receiving 
 pleasure from the beauties of nature and of art. The first 
 question that occurs concerning it, is, whether it is to be 
 considered as an internal sense, or as an exertion of reason .? 
 Reason is a very general term, but if we understand by it 
 that power of the mind, which, in speculative matters, dis¬ 
 covers truth, and, in practical matters, judges of the fitness 
 of means to an end, I apprehend the question may be easily 
 answered. For nothing is more clear than that Taste is not 
 resolvable into any such operation of reason. It is not 
 merely through a discovery of the understanding, or a de¬ 
 duction of argument, that the mind receives pleasure from a 
 beautiful prospect, or a fine poem. Such objects often 
 strike us intuitively, and make a strong impression, when 
 we are unable to assign the reasons of our being pleased. 
 They sometimes strike, in the same manner, the philosopher 
 and the peasant, the boy and the man. IJefice, the faculty by 
 which we relish such beauties, seems more nearly allied to a 
 feeling of sense, than to a process of the understanding.”* 
 Now, this argument eitherproves an undisputed fact, orit 
 proves nothing whatever. If Dr. Blair merely mean, that 
 the emotions of beauty and sublimity are essentially ditterent 
 from the intellectual process by which they are preceded, he 
 is arguing for the admission of a truth, so self-evident as to 
 be, 1 should conceive, wholly undeniable. If, on the other 
 hand, he intend to assert that emotion, like sensation, imme¬ 
 diately follow's the external impression, without the inter¬ 
 vention of any intellectual operation—his argument is not 
 merely inconclusive, but wholly irrelevant. Nay, if his 
 meaning be that the sensation itself, without any subse¬ 
 quent judgment of the mind, is followed by the emotion ot 
 beauty—his argument is equally irrelevant. The sophistry 
 lies in the selection of terms calculated entirely to mislead 
 the inquirer. If by “a discovery of the understanding, 
 and “ a deduction of argument,” be meant those formal pro¬ 
 cesses of thought, which it is sometimes necessary to con- 
 . * Blair, Lee. ii. 
 
138 
 
 The Standard of Taste: 
 
 • 
 
 duct, and those important conclusions to which such pro¬ 
 cesses may occasionally lead,—I am ready to admit, that the 
 emotions of Taste are rarely, if ever, consequences of these 
 intellectual operations. It', on the other hand, we are, under 
 the terms employed, to include those momentary judgments, 
 every trace of which vanishes with the consciousness that 
 accompanied their formation;—those habitual reasonings 
 which take place with a rapidity the metaphysician alone 
 can correctly estimate; and those trains of associated 
 thought, which naturally present themselves in unbroken 
 succession—1 must beg leave to dissent from the opinion. 
 True it is, that the objects of taste sometimes strike, in the 
 same manner, the philosopher and the peasant, the boy and 
 the man;”* but do no other objects “strike, in the'same 
 manner, the philosopher and the peasant, the boy and the 
 man ? Is there no combination of circumstances w : hich 
 universally produces alarm? Would not a certain concur¬ 
 rence of events inspire every human breast with the animat¬ 
 ing emotions of hope, of gratitude, or of joy ? And should 
 we, therefore, be entitled to appropriate different internal 
 senses to the emotions accompanying these different pas¬ 
 sions, and to speak of the sense of fear—the sense of joy—the 
 grateful sense? Yet, as far as this reasoning goes, the con¬ 
 clusion would be as legitimate in the one case as in the 
 other; and the analogy, on which the latter phraseolooy 
 would rest, quite as little exposed to objection, as is that 
 which has given occasion to the former. 
 
 It is, 1 confess, not very easy to attach to the statement 
 before us any definite meaning. This obscurity of expres¬ 
 sion probably arises from indistinctness of thought. The 
 author appears to entertain one, of two notions. He con¬ 
 ceives, either that the impression on the organ is followed 
 by the sentiments of taste, simultaneously with the sensation 
 which that impression produces : or, (and this is, I presume 
 his leal meaning) that the sensation is invariably and im¬ 
 mediately followed by some correspondent emotion. That 
 certain sensations give rise to certain emotions, I am ex¬ 
 ceedingly willing to allow. I would, however, contend that 
 it so happens, not because there is in the sensation itself 
 any thing necessarily productive of this consequence ; but 
 because, constituted and circumstanced as we are, certain 
 sensations suggest certain ideas, and excite, according to 
 the fixed laws of mind, associated trains of thought. These 
 intellectua 1 operations are, as has been before stated, the 
 
 * See above, page 137 . 
 
139 
 
 An Essay , by W. F. Durant. 
 
 immediate antecedents of emotion; and when these are 
 excited, they naturally draw in their train those rapturous 
 feelings which are produced by the perceptions of beauty or 
 of sublimity. While on this part of the subject, it may not 
 be improper to remark, that the feelings of Taste are, accord¬ 
 ing to my ideas, restricted to emotion; that is, to those 
 feelings or sentiments which succeed an intellectual opera¬ 
 tion. Taste is, of course, like every other word, an arbi¬ 
 trary sign of thought; and its meaning must, therefore, be 
 fixed by ordinary usage. But while ordinary usage appears 
 to sanction the restriction which has been proposed, diffi¬ 
 culties innumerable seem to attend its removal. All our 
 merely organic pleasures may claim a place among the 
 gratifications of taste ; and thus present a field of inquiry, 
 including the varied phenomena of sensation, and nearly 
 coextensive w'itli the circle of human enjoyments. I am 
 aware, that I have high authority against me. Speaking of 
 the beauty of colour and form, >ir. Stewart observes, “ With 
 the greater part of Mr. Alison’s remarks on these qualities, 
 I perfectly agree ; although in the case of the first, 1 am dis¬ 
 posed to ascribe more to the mere organic impression, inde¬ 
 pendently of any association or expression whatever, than 
 he seems willing to allow and again, “ The circum¬ 
 stances which please, in objects of Taste, are of tw r o very 
 different kinds. First, those which derive their effect from 
 the organical adaptation of the human frame to the ex¬ 
 ternal universe.’’^ To differ from Mr. Stewart, is, under 
 any circumstances, perilous; nor should I, perhaps, have 
 ventured to make a single remark on the passages I have 
 cited, had I not the consolation of knowing that if I err, 
 it is after the example of Mr. Alison. Mr. Stew'arthas 
 stated, not merely w ith his usual temperance, but even with 
 considerable reserve, the point on which he differs from 
 Mr. Alison. 
 
 From the terms employed in one of the passages cited 
 above, it would appear that Mr. Alison is himself disposed 
 to attribute something to “the mere organic impression." 
 That much of our pleasure is ascribed by him to this cause, 
 I am quite ready to admit: the real question, however, is 
 simply, whether he would choose to give the denomination 
 of beauty to any of those qualities, from which this imme¬ 
 diate pleasure is derived. It is not always easy to select 
 from a considerable work, any one passage sufficiently deci- 
 
 * Stewart's Phil. Essays, part ii. essay i. p. 1. chap. ii. 
 
 + Ibid. Essay iii. chap, iii. 
 
140 
 
 The Standard of Taste: 
 
 sive to serve for the foundation of an argument like the 
 present. Under this difficulty, however, it does appear 
 to me, that we do not at present labour; and I will there¬ 
 fore take the liberty of citing Mr. Alison’s own words, 
 both because the quotation appears to me peculiarly appo¬ 
 site to the immediate subject of inquiry, and because it 
 contains a luminous exposition of sentiments the most phi¬ 
 losophical, and the most important to our subsequent rea¬ 
 sonings. “ With the emotions of Taste, in almost every 
 instance,” says this elegant and philosophical writer, “ many 
 other emotions ofpleasure are united : the various simple plea¬ 
 sures that arise from other qualities of the object; the plea¬ 
 sure of agreeable conversation, in the case of material objects; 
 and in all that pleasure which, by the constitution of our 
 nature, is annexed to the exercise of our faculties. Unless, 
 therefore, we have previously acquired a distinct and accu¬ 
 rate conception of that peculiar effect which is produced 
 in our minds when the emotions of Taste are felt, and can 
 precisely distinguish it from the effects that are produced 
 by these accidental qualities, we must uecessarily include in 
 the causes of such emotions, those qualities also which are 
 the causes of the accidental pleasure with which this emo¬ 
 tion is accompanied.”* If the passage just quoted should 
 leave any doubt with regard to the writer’s real opinions on 
 the subject more immediately under consideration, that 
 doubt will be removed by what I am about to adduce. The 
 emotion of beauty “involves, in all cases, 1st, The pro¬ 
 duction of some simple emotion, or the exercise of some 
 moral affection; and, 2dly, The consequent excitement of 
 a peculiar exercise of the imagination :”+ and a little farther 
 on, “ I shall endeavour to shew that all the phenomena are 
 reducible to the same general principle, and that the qua¬ 
 lities of matter are not beautiful or sublime in themselves, 
 but as they are by various means the signs or expressions 
 of qualities capable of producing emotion. 
 
 The question at issue, therefore, between these two 
 writers, is not—in what proportion does the mere organic 
 impiession contribute to that complex feeling, which we 
 denominate the emotion of beauty ? Cut*—Coes the mere 
 organic impression contribute any thing at all to this effect? 
 —Having thus shielded myself under so considerable an 
 example, I may venture humbly to state my reasons for dis¬ 
 senting from the opinion of Mr. Stewart. 
 
 * Alison’s Essays on the Nature and Principles of Taste; intro¬ 
 duction. + ibid. + ibid. 
 
141 
 
 An Etsai/, by \V. F. Durant. 
 
 The only notion I can attach to the phrase, “ mere orga¬ 
 nic impression,” is, that it is intended to express the mental 
 change which takes place, when an organ of sense has been 
 affected by some material object. This change, whether ac¬ 
 companied by pleasure or by pain, cannot, it appears to me, 
 be in any respect different from sensation. I do not suppose 
 that Mr. Stewart himself would give any other definition 
 of it; or that the organic gratification, which he reckons 
 among the constituents of beauty, is intended, in his use of 
 it, to signify any thing more than an agreeable sensation. 
 My chief objection to the required concession, is founded 
 on the difficulty of assigning any limit to the admissions 
 which seem to be its natural consequences. If any class 
 of sensations is to be considered one of the constituent 
 elements of beauty, no good reason can be given, why every 
 other class of sensations may not be allowed to occupy a 
 similar rank : and if sensations be indiscriminately admitted, 
 the pleasures of Taste must soon come to comprehend all 
 the varieties of human enjoyment. The leading idea which 
 this supposition is intended to confirm and illustrate, stands 
 in no need of such corroborative evidence. This theory is, 
 if I fully comprehend the writer’s intention, of the following 
 kind:— 
 
 “The epithet, beautiful,” says Mr. Stewart, “literally 
 denotes what is pleasing to the eye.”* T his last phrase is, 
 I confess, somewhat ambiguous, since it may refer to those 
 pleasures, which, although dependent on thought and emo¬ 
 tion, are ultimately traceable to a sensation communicated 
 through the organ of sight, and suggesting a long train of 
 associated thought: It may, however, mean—and this idea 
 it is, I believe, intended here to convey—a pleasure strictly 
 organic—in other words, an agreeable sensation imme¬ 
 diately arising from some material effect on the visual 
 organs. After this word, then, had been appropriated to 
 a particular class of what are ordinarily termed physical 
 gratifications, its meaning was extended, in consequence of 
 discovered resemblances, or analogies, between certain cha¬ 
 racteristics of these peculiar sensations, or of their causes, 
 and certain qualities found to exist in other objects of our 
 attention. The name, once having been transferred to 
 objects possessed of these qualities—other objects were 
 discovered, having some one property in common, not with 
 that class to which the appellation was originally restricted, 
 but with that second class to which it had been subse- 
 * Stewart’s Phi!. Ess. p. 2. Essay i. p. 1. e. ii. 
 
142 
 
 The Standard of Taste: 
 
 quently applied : and hence arose another transition, and a 
 further extension of meaning. Having thus traced the term 
 in question to this simple origin, Mr. Stewart seems to have 
 retained an affection for the “mere organic impressions;’* 
 which induces him to give them a place among the elements 
 of beauty. 
 
 Before I conclude, it will be my duty to offer some 
 strictures on his theory of “transitions;” or, rather, 
 on some inferences which are drawn from it, and which 
 are most intimately connected with our present inquiry. 
 Just now, however, my only object will be, to shew that 
 the conclusion, to which I have already objected, does 
 not naturally flow from the facts which have just been 
 noticed. Allow me to illustrate my meaning by a quo¬ 
 tation, on which I intend to found a few observations. 
 “I shall begin by supposing,” says Mr. Stewart, “that A, 
 b, c, d, e, denote a series of objects—that a possesses some 
 one quality in common with b ; b, a quality in common with 
 c; c, a quality in common with d ; d, a quality in common 
 with e ; while at the same time, no quality can be found 
 which belongs in common to any three objects in the series. 
 Is it not conceivable that the affinity between a and b may 
 produce a transference of the name of the first to the se¬ 
 cond ; and that, in consequence of the other affinities which 
 may connect the remaining objects together, the same name 
 may pass in succession from b to c, from c to d, from d to e ? 
 In this manner a common appellation will arise between a 
 and e, although the two objects may, in their nature and 
 properties, be so widely distant from each other, that no 
 stretch of imagination can conceive how the thoughts were 
 led from the former to the latter.”*' Now, then, let a stand 
 for the primary meaning of the word under consideration, 
 and e, or any of the intermediate letters, for that other idea 
 to which the term beauty is transitively applied. Is it not 
 possible that the importance of this last idea may be so 
 great, and the necessity of discriminating been a and k be 
 so apparent, as exclusively to appropriate to the latter, that 
 term by which the former was originally designated? 
 
 This subject we shall soon have an opportunity of more 
 fully considering: but does not even this superficial view 
 teach us, that allowing all Mr. Stewart has demanded, no 
 proof, nor indeed any presumption, exists in favour of this 
 extent of application ? It is admitted that the last appeal 
 lies to ordinary usage ; and, if that be against us, that argu- 
 * Phil. Ess. p. 2. Essay i. p. 1. chap. i. 
 
143 
 
 An Essay, by W. F. Durant. 
 
 ment, on the one side, is superfluous and hypothetical; or 
 a priori reasonings, on the other side, entirely futile. I 
 feel convinced, however, that this usage is decidedly in our 
 favour; and unwilling as I am to speak dogmatically, espe¬ 
 cially on any point connected with philological inquiry, I 
 should not shrink from challenging our opponents to adduce 
 a single instance in which the epithet “ beautiful” is given 
 to any ‘‘organic impression,” except where that impression 
 is compounded with other elements. 
 
 In this latter case, is it unnatural to conclude that the 
 epithet is intended to designate, not the organic impression 
 to which, in a simple state, it is never applied; but the 
 union of those other elements, which enter into the compo¬ 
 sition of the complex feeling. 
 
 That ordinary usage is as has been stated, observation 
 teaches us. The phrase, a beautiful sensation, would be 
 considered a solecism—yet what but sensation is the “mere 
 organic impression?” Those organic impressions which 
 rarely, if ever, awaken a subsequent train of thought and 
 emotion, are never denominated beautiful; while this desig¬ 
 nation is reserved for those sensations by which such trains 
 are excited. The mere physical pleasure attendant on 
 the sensations of taste, or even of smell, is, I apprehend, 
 much more considerable than any immediate sensual grati¬ 
 fication, which is derived from harmonious sounds, or from 
 splendid colours : yet the term “ beauty” is never correctly 
 applied to the objects of the two former senses. These 
 remarks on Mr. Stewart’s opinions, I have hazarded with 
 considerable diffidence. These opinions have incidentally 
 come under our notice, in consequence of their bearings 
 toward a distinction which lies at the root of our system. 
 The principles they are intended to uphold, and the conclu¬ 
 sions to the support of which they are rendered subservient, 
 will, ere long, come again under consideration. 
 
 On the whole, then—the distinction which I have been 
 labouring to establish, is simply of the following kind. 
 Writers on Taste seem generally to have considered sensi¬ 
 bility to beauty and sublimity, as a simple uncompounded 
 act of the mind. I have, on the contrary, endeavoured to 
 shew, that whatever beauty may be, some intellectual pro¬ 
 cess must necessarily take place, before the emotions of 
 Taste are experienced. To render this distinction the more 
 obvious, I have endeavoured to draw a line between these 
 emotions, and those pleasures of sensation by which they 
 may be accidentally accompanied or -preceded ; and, to 
 
144 
 
 The Standard of Taste: 
 
 accomplish my object, have endeavoured to trace the ordi¬ 
 nary indistinctness of ideas on this subject, to what appears 
 to have been at once a consequence and a source of con¬ 
 fusion—I refer to the introduction of an internal, or reflex 
 sense. 
 
 My great object in making this distinction, has been to 
 justify the application of the epithet “correct,” as used in 
 connexion with the emotions of Taste. This I have attempt¬ 
 ed to effect, by considering emotions in general, and the 
 emotions of Taste in particular, as consequences of certain 
 intellectual states to which they owe their existence; and 
 on which they depend for their distinctive characteristics. 
 The epithet in question, then, is, in strictness, applicable, 
 not to the emotions of beauty or of sublimity, but to those 
 intellectual states, which are the immediate antecedents of 
 these emotions. 
 
 As these trains of thought are, however, so rapid, as in 
 almost every case to elude ordinary observation, and some¬ 
 times to defy metaphysical analysis; that term, which is, in 
 philosophic strictness, applied to the process, is ultimately 
 transferred to the result, or rather to that compound senti¬ 
 ment of taste, in which both process and result—both 
 thought and emotion—are included. The objections which 
 may, perhaps, at first suggest themselves, will, I think, 
 vanish as we proceed in the inquiry, and apply to the sub¬ 
 ject which we are to investigate the principles here laid 
 down, as preliminary to further discussion. The great diffi¬ 
 culty, however, still remains untouched—What is the nature 
 of this intellectual process? Wherein consists its correct¬ 
 ness? With what objects is it conversant? I am aware 
 that an answer to these inquiries seems to involve a discus¬ 
 sion of that question which we have reserved for subsequent 
 consideration. There are, however, some points more imme¬ 
 diately connected with this part of our subject, which require 
 immediate attention, and which must be disposed of, before 
 it will be possible to make any further progress. Suppos¬ 
 ing our previous reasoning to have been admitted, the most 
 obvious reply to this list of queries will immediately pre¬ 
 sent itself to every mind. Beauty and sublimity, it will be 
 said, are the objects of this intellectual operation; and its 
 correctness consists in forming an accurate estimate of the 
 degree in which these qualities are found in different ob¬ 
 jects. No thinking man, however, will suffer himself to 
 be detained for one moment on the threshold, by an answer 
 so vague and unsatisfactory.-—What is beauty ? What is 
 
145 
 
 Ah Essay, by W. F. Durant. 
 
 sublimity? are questions naturally suggested by the very 
 terms of the reply; and till these are set at rest, no pro¬ 
 gress whatever has been effected. 
 
 To enter fully into this subject, would not consist with 
 the more limited plan of the present Essay; and I shall 
 therefore restrict myself to such remarks as are absolutely 
 necessary for the purposes of our argument. Philosophers 
 seem at one time to have imagined, that there is some one 
 quality in the various objects of Taste; and that of this 
 quality, wherever it may be presented, certain emotions are 
 the inseparable consequences. This theory was almost 
 necessary to the uniformity of a system, which had pro¬ 
 vided reflex senses for almost every modification of feeling 
 that was not directly traceable to a material cause. A 
 variety of mistakes were the result of this radical error; 
 and while this one quality was eagerly sought for, each 
 theorist possessed his own secret, by means of which the 
 great discovery was to be effected. 
 
 Led astray by the same incorrect hypothesis, some phi¬ 
 losophers resolve the emotion, or, as it should in that case 
 be denominated, the sensation of beauty, into relaxation of 
 the fibres ; and that of sublimity, into muscular tension or 
 contraction. All such opinions seem to me to have arisen 
 from a defective analysis. Writers had created certain 
 internal principles, for which it was necessary to find a 
 specific field of action; and phenomena were, therefore, 
 tortured till they gave evidence in favour of the system 
 which they were adduced to support. As particular exter¬ 
 nal organs are appropriated to the perception of particular 
 qualities of matter, so beauty and sublimity were conceived 
 to be peculiar qualities, the appropriate objects of a certain 
 internal sense—just as the quality of hardness is perceived 
 by means of touch, and that of colour by means of sight 
 alone. 
 
 Mr. Burke, who has gone well nigh to complete what his 
 predecessors had commenced—who substitutes for the 
 internal, the external organ —who concludes, “ that beauty 
 is, for the most part, some merely sensible quality, acting 
 mechanically upon the human mind by the intervention of 
 the senses yet, as if willing, as far as was consistent 
 with his system, to adhere to the opinion of his predeces¬ 
 sors, assures us, “ that there is a chain in all our sensations 
 that " they are but different kinds of feeling, calculated to 
 be affected by various sorts of objects, but all to be affected 
 * Burke’s Phil. Enquiry, See. partiii. sect. 12. 
 
146 
 
 The Standard of Taste: 
 
 after the same manner.”* On this principle it is, that this 
 distinguished writer so unwarrantably extends the applica¬ 
 tion of the term beautiful. Finding, or fancying, an ana¬ 
 logy between the qualities by which impressions are made 
 on the different external organs, he seems to conclude, 
 that where some one property of matter, acting on some 
 one of our senses, is ordinarily followed by the emotions of 
 beauty—this property will have the same effect, whenever 
 it is so presented as to affect any of our other senses. 
 Thus, in pursuit of this remarkable analogy of the senses, 
 he denominates sweetness, “ the beautiful of the Taste.”i* 
 Nor is such a conclusion by any means unnatural, if the pre¬ 
 mises be once admitted; and if the opinion, to which we 
 have so often alluded, be adhered to. For if beauty be a 
 merely sensible quality, and if it be at the same time a 
 distinct quality of the object abstractedly considered, there 
 seems no good reason why each of the senses should not 
 be capable of transmitting the sensation which this quality 
 is fitted to produce; unless, indeed, there be, as in the 
 case of odours, colours, and of all our ordinary sensations, 
 some one organ, of which, and of which alone, this quality is 
 the appropriate object. Now, as it is impossible to point 
 out any such organ, the conclusion to which Mr. Burke’s 
 reasonings seem to tend, appears to me the natural, not to 
 say the inevitable, consequence of the theory he has 
 advanced, when it is taken in connexion with the preju¬ 
 dice by which he appears to have been influenced. 
 
 There is, however, another, and, as far as I am able to 
 form a judgment, an equally erroneous extreme. It has 
 just been remarked, that the older metaphysicians seem to 
 have considered beauty as a peculiar quality productive of 
 certain effects on reflex senses, which were, by a strange 
 sort of intellectual mechanism, adapted to the perception of 
 their object. Another class of philosophers, not content 
 with the analogy, in tracing which their predecessors had 
 been so sedulously employed—and living at a period, when 
 it had become fashionable to look to physical discoveries, not 
 as illustrative, but as explanatory of mental phenomena— 
 seem to have altogether excluded emotion, in the sense 
 which I have attached to it, from among the constituents 
 of beauty, and to have considered the objects of Taste as 
 little, if any thing, more than one class of sensual pleasures. 
 "W hether it arise from attachment to a peculiar theory, to 
 which we shall not at present advert, or from a dread of 
 * Burke, Sub. and Beaut, p. iii. sect. 24. + Ibid. p. iv. sect. 22. 
 
147 
 
 An Address, by W. F. Durant. 
 
 of that extreme toward which the speculations of former 
 writers had tended, I am unable to determine. It does, 
 however, I conless, appear to me, that Mr. Stewart is at 
 least equally remote from truth on the other side of the 
 question. It may be a mistaken view of his theory, which 
 induces me to regard it with aversion; but to me it ap¬ 
 peals, that if carried out into all its consequences, it would 
 destroy not only the precision, but the utility, of language. 
 
 It will be unnecessary to trouble the reader with many 
 additional quotations, since I have already stated, in Mr. 
 Stewart s own words, the substance, or at least the founda¬ 
 tion, of his argument. He conceives, that where a com¬ 
 mon name is given to objects or qualities apparently dis¬ 
 tinct from each other, there is not, as most philosophers 
 have supposed, some common property to which that name 
 is in fact appropriated. On the contrary, he imagines that 
 an analogy, that is discovered between the object to which 
 the name was originally given, and some other object, 
 produces an extension, or transition, of the meaning, so as 
 to include that second object which has some one point of 
 coincidence with the first. In time, however, another idea 
 is found to possess something in common with that second 
 idea to which the application of the word has now been 
 extended. The process of generalization is thus carried 
 forward, and notions indiscriminately connected, but with¬ 
 out any common bond of union, are denoted by one word 
 which is indiscriminately applied to each of them. Thus 
 far I am fully prepared to acquiesce in the decisions of this 
 distinguished writer; but we shall soon be called to notice 
 those points, in relation to which I am forced to dissent 
 from his opinions. Unfortunately, the discussion of these 
 questions is intimately connected* with a subject the most 
 mysterious in the whole of mental science. To go into the 
 controversy regarding general terms and abstract ideas, 
 W’hich has so long divided the literary world, and thus to 
 enter on a field of inquiry which has employed the atten¬ 
 tion of so many gifted individuals, and from which, after 
 all this labour, the unintelligible paradoxes of the school¬ 
 men have been sw r ept away, only to make room for modern 
 paradoxes almost equally unintelligible, would be as much 
 opposed to my inclination, as it is placed beyond the reach 
 of my abilities. Confining myself, therefore, to the exami¬ 
 nation of that word which is the immediate object of our 
 present inquiry, I shall carefully exclude the more general 
 views which might otherwise attract a share of our atten- 
 vol. vin. —no. 2 . M 
 
149 
 
 On certain Regulations in 
 
 tion; and, without accommodating my conclusions to any 
 particular system, shall seek only to render them accordant 
 with truth. I shall, therefore, proceed to offer a few 
 remarks, which may appear so obvious as to be unworthy 
 of notice. I know that I am suggesting nothing new— 
 nothing which is not anticipated in the reasonings, to some 
 parts of which 1 am bold enough to object. It is not, 
 however, always unnecessary, nor uninteresting, to deve¬ 
 lop and examine principles, which, although neither un¬ 
 known nor misapplied, may have failed to attract a due 
 share of attention and regard. 
 
 On certain Regulations in Dr. Williams’s Library, in 
 
 Red Cross-street. 
 
 We have been unfeignedly concerned to find, that our 
 notice of the death of Dr. Morgan, the late excellent 
 librarian of the library founded by thelateDr. Williams, and 
 long since deposited in Red Cross-street, has been con¬ 
 strued into at least an implied censure of the conduct of 
 the Rev. Mr. Coates, his successor; than which nothing 
 could be further from the intention of the author of tho 
 necrological retrospect, of which that notice formed a part. 
 The allusions to changes in the Institution, since the Doc¬ 
 tor’s death, were evidently meant for, and expressly directed 
 to, the trustees ; and whilst we feel the most anxious wish 
 to remove every impression that could give pain to a gen¬ 
 tleman, for whom, from his uniform urbanity and attention 
 to the only one of the editors of this work who has had 
 the happiness of a personal acquaintance with him, we 
 entertain the highest respect, we do not feel ourselves 
 called upon to modify in aught, our admonitory protest 
 against the changes of which he is not the author, but the 
 mere official instrument of their execution. We have every 
 reason to believe, that the present librarian of the Institu- 
 ticin will so cond uct himself in the execution of his office, as 
 to merit at our hands the same praise which we readily 
 bestowed upon his predecessor, namely, that “ no man 
 could fulfil the duties of that office with more care, ur¬ 
 banity, gentlemanly attention, and liberality, towards all 
 men, whatever their sentiments, political or religious 
 though we hope it will be very long before we have to 
 finish the sentence with, “ than he did.” That he cannot 
 fill them so satisfactorily, to those gentlemen who have- 
 
149 
 
 Dr. Williams’s Library . 
 
 occasion to consult the most valuable portion of the library, 
 as did his predecessor, is no fault of his, but—if fault 
 there be any—of the trustees, by whom the regulations of 
 the library are exclusively framed. Of those regulations 
 in the times of Dr. Morgan, when we ourselves have had 
 frequent occasion to benefit by their liberality, the follow¬ 
 ing is a copy: 
 
 Rules oj the Library. —I. The library shall be open from 
 ten o’clock in the forenoon till three in the afternoon, on 
 Tuesday, Wednesday, T hursday, and Friday, in every week 
 throughout the year, except Christmas and Whitsuntide 
 weeks, and the month of August; and the librarian (unless 
 prevented by sickness) shall constantly attend the library 
 at such times. Nevertheless, a trustee shall have access 
 to the library whenever he thinks proper. 
 
 II. All persons shall be admitted during the appointed 
 hours, upon producing to the librarian a written order from 
 one of the trustees ; but they shall not be permitted to enter 
 the back library, except in the presence of a trustee, or of 
 the librarian. 
 
 III. Persons who are admitted by a trustee’s order to 
 consult the books, shall be introduced into the front library, 
 which shall be used as a reading room. They shall deliver 
 to the librarian a paper, on which is written the title of the 
 work they wish to inspect, the date, their names, and places 
 of abode. The book shall then be brought to them to the 
 front library, there to be consulted or perused. No paper 
 shall be la,id on the book when any extracts are made. 
 The written orders for books which may be thus delivered 
 to the librarian, shall be carefully preserved by him on a 
 file, to be afterwards referred to in case any work named 
 in them should be discovered to have been mutilated or 
 damaged. 
 
 IV. No book shall be taken out of the library, except by 
 one of the trustees, on his giving a receipt for it to the 
 librarian; and such book shall be returned at or before the 
 next quarterly meeting, except the same be in the actual 
 possession of such trustee. 
 
 V. The librarian shall keep a correct account of all books 
 taken out of the library, with the time when taken, and the 
 name of the trustee taking the same ; and of applications 
 for books already taken out. Such accounts shall be laid 
 before the library committee previously to every quarterly 
 meeting of the trustees. 
 
 VI. All books given or purchased for the use of the 
 
150 
 
 On certain Regulations in 
 
 library, shall be immediately, on such gift or purchase, 
 inserted by the librarian in the catalogue, in their proper 
 places, and stamped or marked; and also entered in the 
 book of benefactions, in which shall be specified the time 
 when, and the name of the person by whom, given: and 
 such book of benefactions shall be laid on the table at 
 every meeting of the trustees, and of the book committee. 
 
 VII. The librarian shall not receive any money, or other 
 gratuity, from any person, for the use of this library. 
 
 The completion of the inquiries which led us to the 
 library has prevented our personal observation of the 
 the mode in which these rules have been enforced, since the 
 decease of Dr. Morgan, and indeed, from knowing how 
 they were acted upon during the latter period of his life; 
 but we have heard from several of our friends and fellow 
 labourers there, that to the last day of his appearance in the 
 discharge of his official duties, the late librarian of the 
 Institution continued to afford the same facility of access 
 to every part of the collection under his care, which was 
 most fully, and even kindly, granted during the period of 
 our acquaintance with it and him. We have also great 
 pleasure in adding, that all our inquiries and information 
 (for we have had no personal experience upon the subject,) 
 abundantly satisfies us, that the same urbane and liberal 
 course has been uniformly pursued by his successor, in as 
 far as the printed books in the library are concerned ; and 
 if this has not been the case with the manuscripts, it is, we 
 are as fully assured, because a new regulation of the trus¬ 
 tees has prevented him from rendering the same assistance, 
 for forwarding the researches of those who wish to consult 
 them, as he appears ever most cheerfully to have afforded 
 to such readers as confined their inquiries to the other 
 department of this collection. 
 
 On that regulation, we deem it a duty which we equally 
 owe to the public, and to the trustees of the library, to 
 offer a few remarks. Few of our readers need perhaps, 
 to be informed, that the library in Red Cross-street, con¬ 
 tains several manuscripts of the older nonconformist divines, 
 at the most interesting period in the history of Protestant 
 dissent, and also several valuable statistical details of the 
 condition of the same body in later times; and these, until 
 recently, every person who had a regular admission to the 
 library was permitted to consult, with as little difficulty as 
 he could refer to a printed book upon the library shelves— 
 save that, where he was not so well known to the librarian, 
 
151 
 
 Dr. Williams’s Library. 
 
 as to be safely left to himself, the second of the rules 
 which we have here reprinted was carried into strict exe¬ 
 cution, by the librarian continuing with the reader in the 
 back library the whole of the time that the manuscript was 
 in use. The election of another librarian upon his death 
 might not unnaturally lead the trustees to revise the regu¬ 
 lations upon which he had acted, and then it was that 
 the alterations were introduced, against which many per¬ 
 sons are disposed, with us, to remonstrate. The former 
 rules contained, it will be observed, nothing like a distinc¬ 
 tion between the printed books and manuscripts, and, with 
 the slight and prudent exception already stated, none was 
 observed in practice; but it is widely different now. We 
 have not been able to procure a copy of the new regulations, 
 which are not yet printed ; but we are assured, from good 
 authority, that the changes introduced are very trifling, 
 except in the requisition of a special order from a trustee, 
 for the inspection of any manuscript, by those who, on a 
 similar order, have a general and unlimited access to the 
 printed books. Now, this restriction we conceive to be 
 inconvenient, unnecessary, and unwarranted by the pre¬ 
 cedent of any public library, with whose regulations we are 
 acquainted. The library of manuscripts in the British 
 Museum is, or we should rather say, the libraries are, of a 
 thousand times the value and importance of that at Red 
 Cross-street; yet every individual who has an admis¬ 
 sion to the reading-room of that national and noble insti¬ 
 tution, has precisely the same right to consult, and the 
 same facility afforded him in consulting, the most valuable 
 manuscript, in either of its magnificent collections, as 
 he has to refer to the commonest printed book, or pam¬ 
 phlet, upon its shelves. The manuscripts of the library of 
 the Inner Temple are also as numerous, at the least, as 
 those placed under the care of f)r. Williams’s trustees, and 
 are to the full as valuable to a lawyer, as are the latter to a 
 divine or ecclesiastical historian, yet are they as easy of 
 access as those in the national library; nor are we aware of 
 any stricter rule for regulating the care of those in the 
 libraries of the other law societies, save perhaps, that the 
 prohibition of publishing any of the manuscripts of Sir 
 Matthew Hale, imposed by their donor, may render 
 greater caution necessary with respect to them, at Lincoln’s 
 Inn. 
 
 With such examples before them, what reason, we can¬ 
 not but ask, have the trustees of the Red Cross-street 
 
152 
 
 On cei'tuin Regulations in 
 
 library, for the additional restraints which they have im¬ 
 posed upon the use of the manuscripts by those for whose 
 benefit they are committed to their care. Is it the fear of 
 their being injured or abstracted? Those who would do 
 either, are certainly most unfit persons to be admitted into 
 the library at all; as, if they would pocket a manuscript, 
 they are just as likely to secrete a scarce and valuable 
 pamphlet, or to abstract a plate from a printed book, and 
 they have moreover far better opportunities of doing so, as 
 they are often left alone for hours in the room which 
 contains the major part of the library, on open shelves, 
 whilst, unless very well known to him, they consult the 
 manuscripts but in presence of the librarian. Do they 
 fear lest an improper use should be made of them? Why 
 not adopt, then, the very prudent and proper rules of the 
 other public libraries to which we have referred, which, 
 prohibiting the transcription of any entire manuscript, or 
 even a considerable portion of one, without express per¬ 
 mission of the trustees for the purpose, leaves open to all 
 readers the right of consulting, and of making extracts 
 from, any and every part of the collection. This has long 
 been found a sufficient control over the largest and mosl 
 valuable collection of manuscripts in the kingdom; and if 
 those to whose care one of the smallest and least important 
 is intrusted, go beyond it, by determining what individuals, 
 deemed by themselves proper persons for admission into 
 the library, shall be permitted to consult the manuscripts, 
 and which of those manuscripts they may refer to, they 
 assume to themselves a power which we believe to be 
 unprecedented, unnecessary, and incompatible with the 
 proper discharge of their duties, as mere* trustees for the 
 benefit of the public. Nor shall any false notions of 
 delicacy, or affectation of candour, induce us to withhold 
 the expression of our opinion, that these remarks apply 
 with double force, in that the manuscripts to which 
 these instructions apply, contain theological sentiments 
 diametrically opposite to those avowed by the majority of 
 the trustees who imposed them, if indeed there be amongst 
 them a single exception to the remark. 
 
 Dr. Williams, the founder of this library, was a Pres¬ 
 byterian; but he was a Trinitarian. From the designa¬ 
 tion of the trustees to carry into execution, and perpetuate 
 the purposes of his will, by a distinction, founded rather on 
 their mode of church discipline, than the nature of their 
 doctrine, (for little could he have anticipated so wide a 
 
Dr. Williams’s Library 
 
 153 
 
 separation on these points, as has since taken place on this 
 side the Tweed,) the major part, if not the whole of the 
 trustees, are now Unitarians, or at least, are not very 
 unfavourably inclined to that form of doctrine; and, with 
 every possible respect for them as men, they cannot be 
 surprised, that Trinitarians view with peculiar jealousy 
 their absolute control over manuscripts containing points 
 of faith important to their side of the controversy. 
 
 Some of their body have already been refused access to 
 manuscripts, which they formerly consulted in the compo¬ 
 sition of works, illustrative of the peculiar views of the 
 writers of them; and in days in which such extraordinary 
 efforts have been made, and are making, to prove what they 
 consider the heterodoxy of some of the most eminent of 
 the old divines, it can surely be no matter of complaint, 
 that thev wish the unpublished records of their senti¬ 
 ments to be readily accessible to every one ; especially as it 
 does so happen, that in the case of the Henry family, some 
 interesting documents of this nature, which were in the 
 library a^very few years ago, are not forthcoming now. 
 Whether they have strayed unto the portfolios of some 
 autograph collector, in this autographical mania age, we 
 know" not; but this at least is certain, they are not to be 
 
 found. . . 
 
 But we said also, that the restriction was inconvenient, 
 
 and every one engaged in literary researches will see in a 
 minute that it is so. His wish to consult a manuscript 
 mav suddenly arise (it has often done so with ourselves, at 
 least, in the British Museum,) in the course of his examina¬ 
 tion of printed books; yet will he be prevented from grati¬ 
 fying it by not being furnished with the order of a trustee, 
 for permission to refer to a document deposited in the 
 next room to that in which he is sitting. It is, we believe, 
 by persons from the country, that the manuscripts have 
 chiefly been referred to, and to them, whose visits to the 
 metropolis are neither very frequent, noi of a long con¬ 
 tinuance, the restriction is peculiarly inconvenient; for 
 though furnished with a general order of*admissiop to the 
 library they cannot now consult the manusciipts which 
 may alone be the object of their visiting it, until they have 
 first been there to examine the catalogues, to ascertain if 
 what they want be there; and then they must set out in 
 search of a trustee, to obtain a special permission to refer to 
 it Happily we live not in days, when to the 1 rinitanan 
 and Unitarian might be applied the wide line of separation 
 
154 Unitarianism and Trinitarianism compared , 
 
 existing in the ancient church, when “the Jews had no 
 dealings with the Samaritans;” yet is it very probable, 
 that a minister of the former sentiments, from a distant part 
 of the country, would be put to considerable trouble, vexa¬ 
 tion, and loss of time, in obtaining an introduction to a 
 trustee of the latter denomination, and then in procuring 
 from him the order, without which his general and standing 
 admission to the library would be to him of little use. 
 
 Having thus freely stated our views of this restriction, 
 for the consideration of those who imposed it, we have a 
 more gratifying part of our duty to perform, in acknow¬ 
 ledging the obligation conferred upon the public by the 
 trustees and their present librarian, in the preparation and 
 printing of a catalogue of the manuscripts; thus approxima¬ 
 ting nearer to that facility of consulting them, so complete 
 at the British Museum, that we earnestly wish to have it as 
 perfectly established in the library at Red Cross-street. 
 
 0 . 
 
 Unitarianism and Trinitarianism, compared in their Ten¬ 
 dency to Convert Turks, Pagans, Jews, and Infidels, to 
 Christianity. 
 
 The subject of this Essay, is the comparison of the two 
 systems of Unitarianism and Trinitarianism, in their ten¬ 
 dency to promote the conversion of professed unbelievers, 
 such as Jews, Turks, Pagans, and Infidels. 
 
 At the outset of our remarks, we beg leave to premise, 
 that we should lay no stress upon the superior tendency 
 of the latter system to proselyte, as a proof of its truth; 
 except God had declared that “ the knowledge of the Lord 
 should cover the earth, as the waters cover the sea.” 
 
 Indeed, a Christian will be the last man in the world, that 
 is likely to do it; for, if such a principle were once admit¬ 
 ted, it would go immediately to overthrow the end it was 
 intended to subserve; and prove as dangerous to our own 
 system, as to that to which it stands opposed. Cast your 
 eyes upon the world, and you will find, that many systems 
 have been infinitely more successful, in proselyting, than 
 the Christian. Look into the realms of Paganism, and you 
 will find it has converted infinitely more than Christianity, 
 and Mahometanism has done the same. If, then, we were 
 for a moment to proceed on the principle that a superior 
 tendency to proselyte, is a proof of the truth of any system, 
 we must pluck the palm out of the hand of the Christian 
 
in their Tendency to Convert Turks, Pagans, Sfc, 155 
 
 religion, and put it into that of the Pagan, or Mahometan; 
 for these stand in the front rank of proselyting systems, 
 and, compared with their converts, those of Christianity are 
 as a little handful, compared with a mighty army. 
 
 That this principle is totally inadmissible, will further 
 appear, from the consideration, that every system must 
 ,have some proofs to render it plausible, or confirm its truth, 
 before it can hope to make any proselytes at all. It cannot 
 have proselytes to start with ; it must have something else, 
 some evidences on which it is built, and to which it appeals; 
 and by these, and these only, it must either stand or fall. 
 Again, a Christian, who believes in the necessity of an atone¬ 
 ment, is the most unlikely man in the world to adopt this 
 mode of thinking, because the very fundamental principle 
 of his religion, proceeds upon a fact, which precludes the 
 possibility of his doing it, and that is, universal depravity. 
 If he believes that the heart of man is deceitful above all 
 things, and desperately wicked; that the carnal mind is 
 enmity against God—that every imagination of his heart is 
 only evil, and that continually—and that there is none that 
 doeth good, no, not one, (and he is no Christian, who does 
 not believe these declarations,) he will be the last man in 
 the world to think that religion the true one, which makes, 
 or is calculated to make, the most proselytes from amongst 
 men of this description; for if they be so bad, they will be 
 most likely to fall in with a bad religion, such an one as ac¬ 
 commodates itself to the gratification of their propensities; 
 that winks at their crimes, while it creeps into their favour; 
 that promises them peace, while it permits them to sin; that 
 passes high eulogiums upon their dignity, and says nothing 
 about their degradation. And this lets us at once into the 
 reason why Christianity has made so few converts; because 
 it is so unaccommodating—its spirituality stands opposed 
 to carnality—its dogmatism to freethinking—its simplicity 
 to refinement—its plainness to pomp—its holiness to immo¬ 
 rality—its heavenly mindedness to worldly mindedness—and 
 its humility to pride. We merely make these preliminary 
 observations to shew, that although our system has made, 
 and in our humble opinion is calculated to make, infinitely 
 more converts than that of our opponents, yet that we lay 
 no more stress upon this circumstance, than is warranted 
 by scripture. God has said, yea, he has sworn, that to him 
 every knee shall bow, and every tongue confess. That 
 system, then, which has the greatest tendency to promote 
 this end, must of course be the scriptural, and the true sys- 
 
156 
 
 Unitarianism and Trinitarianism compared, 
 
 tem. It is our intention to compare the two systems under 
 our notice, in this point of light—which of them has the 
 greatest persuasives to present to professed unbelievers, to 
 renounce their present delusions, and embrace Christianity. 
 Not that by merely embracing Christianity, a man becomes 
 converted to God, for in order to this, “ he is born again; 
 quickened out of a death of trespasses and sins, by the 
 Spirit of God.” Yet this Spirit always operates upon us 
 as rational creatures, and always addresses us, in his word, 
 as such. 
 
 We now proceed to examine these two systems, in this 
 their tendency. These professed unbelievers, Turks, Pa¬ 
 gans, Jews, and Infidels, are destitute of the truths of Chris¬ 
 tianity. No truths can act where they are not—these truths 
 must, if they operate at all on their minds, be carried to 
 them—we have then to place these systems side by side ; 
 in the first place, as they will operate on our minds, to cause 
 us to send them to these individuals ; and in the second, as 
 they will operate on their minds, when they reach them. In 
 the first place, then, we ask. How will they operate on our 
 minds, in inducing us to send them to these poor deluded 
 devotees? This will depend entirely upon another ques¬ 
 tion, viz. the light in which they cause us to look upon them 
 in their present moral condition ; for our exertions will be 
 regulated by our feelings—our feelings by our views—our 
 views by our creeds—and our creeds by our systems. Ex¬ 
 amine we then the systems, and first the Unitarian one. 
 Let us gather our light from a sun in this system. Dr. Joseph 
 Priestley—“ If,” says the Doctor, “we could be so happy, 
 as to believe there are no errors, but what men may be so 
 circumstanced as to be innocently betrayed into; that any 
 mistake of the head is perfectly consistent with rectitude of 
 heart, and that all differences in modes of worship, may be 
 only the different methods, which different men, who are 
 equally the offspring of God, are endeavouring to honour 
 and obey their common parent; our differences of opinion 
 would have no tendency to lessen our natural love and es¬ 
 teem.”* Now, it is certain it would not; but then it w'ould 
 couch our minds, and make us perfectly easy about the 
 conversion of the individuals in question; for, according to 
 this sentiment, all the false religions under heaven niav be 
 harmless, there being no errors into which men may not 
 be so circumstanced, as to be innocently betrayed. The 
 Pagan, Mahometan, Popish, and every other religion, may 
 * Diff. of Opinion, sec. 2. 
 
in their Tendency to Convert Turks, Pagans, fyc. 157 
 
 then be perfectly harmless. Harmless religion, the Pagan, 
 whose morality is suicide and murder—whose worship is 
 cruelty and debauchery—whose priests are bacchanalians— 
 whose temples are brothels—whose annual festivities gorge 
 vultures and tigers with human flesh—and whiten and 
 blanch the surrounding soil with human bones! Harmless 
 religion, the Mahometan, which was originally established 
 amongst the nations with fire and sword, and propagated by 
 a bigoted band of human butchers, guided bv the bloody 
 dictates of the impostor’s koran! Harmless religion, the 
 Popish, which established the infernal inquisition; tor¬ 
 tured its unhappy victims, on instruments which had satanic 
 ingenuity displayed in their invention, and satanic malignity 
 exhibited in their design ; and which has overwhelmed whole 
 nations in promiscuous bloodshed, carnage, devastation, and 
 massacre! Harmless religions these!—“so many different 
 modes in which different men are honouring and obeying 
 their common parent!” One stands perfectly astonished, 
 that any man could utter such a sentiment. \\ hile Unita¬ 
 rians can, with such a philosophical composure as this, 
 look upon the deluded devotees of these cruel superstitions, 
 it is not likely they will make any efforts towards their con¬ 
 version. Their creed and conduct are perfectly consistent 
 with each other. What efforts have they made for the 
 scriptural illumination of these poor wretches, that are sit¬ 
 ting in darkness, and in the valley of the shadow of death? 
 What missionary society have they formed? Into what 
 languages have they translated the scriptures of truth? 
 What seas have their missionaries navigated? What moun¬ 
 tains have they climbed ? What rivers have they forded ? 
 W’hat forests have they traversed ? What deserts have they 
 crossed? W 7 ith what sincerity must they pray, “ thy king¬ 
 dom come!” 
 
 Turn to the other system, which teaches its disciples to 
 look upon the heathen, as rebels against God—transgressors 
 of the first commandment of the law—as such, exposed to 
 God’s earliest curse—liable to perish everlastingly—and 
 just on the brink of hell. Such a belief as this, causes the 
 hearts of Trinitarians to bleed—their eyes to weep—their 
 bowels to yearn—their heads to plan, and hands to execute, 
 measures for their conversion. Hence they have formed, 
 and zealously support, their missionary societies, those 
 ornaments of the age—the glories of the country—the lights 
 of the church—the benefactors of the world. Their mis¬ 
 sionaries have climbed mountains the most rugged, crossed 
 
158 
 
 Unitarianism and Trinitarianism compared, 
 
 deserts the most inhospitable, forded rivers the most dan¬ 
 gerous, traversed forests the most pathless; their agents 
 have sent us home, as so many standards captured 
 from the enemy, the idols that were formerly worshipped; 
 their missionaries have many of them laid down the shatter¬ 
 ed remains of a worn-out constitution in a distant land, and 
 many at this moment are “ reclaiming another and another 
 from the wastes of dark and fallen humanity; and are 
 widening the domains of gospel light, and gospel principle, 
 amongst them; and are spreading a moral beauty around 
 the very spot, where they pitch their lowly tabernacle; and 
 are, at length, compelling even the eye and testimony of 
 gainsayers, by the success of their noble enterprise; and 
 are forcing the exclamation of delighted surprise from the 
 charmed and arrested traveller, as he looks at the softening 
 tints they are now spreading over the wilderness, and as he 
 hears the sound of the chapel bell, and as in those haunts, 
 where at the distance of half a generation ago, savages 
 would have scowled upon his path, he regales himself with 
 the hum of missionary schools, and the lovely prospect of 
 peaceful and Christian villages.” 
 
 We are not boasting of what they have done, for there is 
 no room to boast, but plenty for shame to ourselves that 
 this was not done long ago; and to our shame be it spoken, 
 that these things are so novel amongst us. But has any 
 thing of this kind been produced by Unitarianism? It cer¬ 
 tainly has not yet. But is it likely to be? It is true, we 
 cannot tell what is yet to come, for we know no more what 
 a system will bring forth, than an hour. But if there be 
 any thing to be done by it, it is certainly yet to come. Let 
 us then grant the utmost they can require, and that we can 
 bestow, viz. that eftorls, equally as great as our own, will 
 be made by Unitarians, for the conversion of the heathen; 
 which will bring us to the second thing to be noticed—the 
 effect of these different systems upon Turks, Pagans, and 
 so on : we will then contrast them in their tendency to lay 
 hold of the attention, understandings, imaginations, feel¬ 
 ings, and fears, of these individuals,—all of which they are 
 in possession. And of the effect they would produce on 
 their understandings, imaginations, feelings, and fears, our 
 readers may judge by the effect they produce upon their 
 own. 
 
 Let us look at their tendency to arrest the attention of 
 these poor infatuated men. Attention is first created, in 
 the ordinary course of things, by a missionary teacher; that 
 
in their Tendency to Convert Turks, Pagans, Sfe. 159 
 
 attention is now engrossed, wholly by their own idolatrous 
 superstitions, their minds are bound in a thousand invisible 
 chains, and locked up, as it were in iron. Which of these 
 two systems is the most calculated to arrest the attention 
 of these men? Both of them are equally destitute of exter¬ 
 nal pomp, and glitter, and dazzle, and parade. Which of 
 them, then, will strike the minds of these men the most, 
 who have heard neither of them before ? That of course 
 which is the most different from any they have ever heard 
 before; which of the two would that be? That which says 
 Christ was a mere man, his mission that of a prophet, his 
 holiness mere morality, his life that of an exemplar, his 
 death that of a martyr, and that since he was raised from 
 the dead, we do not know what is become of him; or that 
 system, which says, this same Christ was God and man, 
 united together in one person; truly God who made us and 
 all things else, and truly man, bone of our bone, and flesh 
 of our flesh; that he had eyes like ours, and with them he 
 shed the tears of affection, at the grave of friendship; ears 
 like ours, and with them he listened to the tale of woe; 
 hands like ours, and with them he staunched the bleeding 
 w'ounds of dismembered relationship, and steadied the knees 
 that were feeble; feet like ours, and with them he went 
 about ameliorating human wretchedness, and lessening the 
 magnitude of human suffering ; a soul like ours, that found 
 this world too poverty-stricken to satisfy its wants; and too 
 narrow to give ample range to its faculties : that his life was 
 obedience, perfect obedience to the law we had broken; 
 his death, atonement for the sins we had committed; his 
 resurrection from the dead, the grand seal of his messiah- 
 ship; his ascension to and reception in heaven, a proof that 
 his work was accepted; his intercession, the source of all 
 blessings to his church; and his second coming to adminis¬ 
 ter justice, vindicate providence, fulfil prophecy, and sub¬ 
 limely consummate redemption, the last grand act that 
 should be performed upon the moving theatre of life. 
 Which of these would strike the attention the most power¬ 
 fully ? To hear of a mere man, a prophet, a teacher, a mar¬ 
 tyr, would not strike the minds of those so powerfully, who 
 had heard of men, and prophets, and teachers, and martyrs, 
 thousands of times before. But when they heard of a per¬ 
 son who was God and Man together, and of his atonement 
 and righteousness, and all that branches from his divinity, 
 they would have something they had never heard before; 
 they would see in it something they had never seen before; 
 
160 Unitarianism and Trinitariauism compared, 
 
 they would feel from it what they never felt before; they 
 are in a system altogether new in a moment, and attention 
 is immediately put under arrest. From the supreme divinity 
 of Christ being an integral part of the system, it has a 
 character peculiarly its own; nothing like it will be found 
 in heaven above, or in the earth beneath, or in the waters 
 under the earth; it can never be incorporated with any other 
 system; its difference from all other systems on earth is so 
 striking and so peculiar, that it can never be confounded 
 with them by sophistry, demolished by familiarity, or crum¬ 
 bled by time. 
 
 Let us now look at the appeal these systems make to the 
 understandings of these men. “There is a spirit in man, 
 and the inspiration of the Almighty giveth him understand¬ 
 ing.” It hath pleased Almighty God to grant these men 
 an ordinary portion of human understanding, which dis¬ 
 plays itself in every thing except their debasing supersti¬ 
 tions. These systems address themselves to this faculty. 
 Every system proceeds on the ground that man is a sinner, 
 and professes to find a remedy for the disorder, one in this 
 way, another in that way, and another in the other way; 
 for every system has its paradise and its perdition, in a 
 future world; its perdition recognizes him as a sinner; its 
 paradise, as a believer in, and participator of, the remedy 
 provided. Now, this sin, so universally recognized in every 
 system of religion, necessarily supposes a law; “ for sin is 
 a transgression of law,” that law cannot be human, for men 
 would never make a law to condemn themselves—as it is 
 not human, it must be divine; as it is divine, it must be, like 
 its author, holy, just, and good; as such, God, who is the 
 moral governor of the universe, must of necessity enforce it 
 in every point, for if he could dispense with one point, he 
 could dispense with all. These men have broken this law, and 
 it cannot recede from any of its requirements; the trans¬ 
 gressors are therefore liable to the punishment it has de¬ 
 nounced, even eternal death. Now then for the remedy 
 provided by Unitarianism in this distressing dilemma, within 
 the bounds of which men seem irrecoverably bound up. It 
 tells us that repentance is a satisfaction to the law for trans¬ 
 gressions; repentance, of the intensity of which, of the dura¬ 
 tion of which, of the depth of which, of the number of sighs 
 he must fetch, or of the number of tears he must shed, or 
 of the number of groans he must heave, the penitent is the 
 only judge. Repentance, of which there are different de¬ 
 grees, and consequently different degrees of satisfaction— 
 
% 
 
 in their Tendency to Convert Turks, Pagans, fyc. 161 
 
 which is absurd, for satisfaction to a law must be something 
 definite, specific, and known, or else it is a burlesque on 
 legislation: repentance a satisfaction to a broken law! a 
 thing never admitted, or perhaps scarcely ever dreamt of, 
 in human codes,although they are imperfect like the man who 
 makes them, and the man who breaks them; while the law 
 of God is an absolutely perfect law. 
 
 Let us now look at the remedy provided by the Trinitarian 
 scheme. We have already observed, that satisfaction to a 
 law must be something specific and definite, and with such a 
 satisfaction this system presents us, in the death of the man 
 Christ Jesus, who “ being without sin, and no guile found in 
 his mouth,” voluntarily became a substitute in the stead of 
 the sinner; and who, by being God and man, not only made 
 satisfaction to the awakened justice of God, for the sins of 
 one man, which, had he been man only, he might have done, 
 but could do no more—but made a satisfaction to the law, 
 sufficient for the sins of all mankind. Thus his death pre¬ 
 sents the understanding with a defnite satisfaction to the 
 awakened justice of Jehovah; the law is satisfied; sin 
 punished; the divine government honoured; and the sinner 
 saved. Now all this commends itself to the understanding 
 in every point as luminous, as light, and as clear as crystal, 
 except the incarnation of Christ, which, it is confessed, is 
 a mystery; but if the fact of that incarnation is established by 
 the most indubitable evidence, as it easily may be, the mode 
 of the fact will never render it objectionable to a humble 
 and consistent understanding, for the creation of God is 
 full of mysteries equally incomprehensible with the incarna¬ 
 tion, all of which are nevertheless believed; for to disbe¬ 
 lieve them, would be an unnatural rebellion against the 
 demonstrations of the senses. Every time a man sets his 
 foot to the ground, he covers thousands of mysteries ; for 
 every atom on which he treads, is a mystery equally incom¬ 
 prehensible with the incarnation of Jesus Christ. 
 
 Thus we have examined these systems, in the appeal 
 which they make to the understanding. Let us now look 
 at them in another point of view. 
 
 Nothing is plainer, or may more easily be made so, than 
 that if the laws of God were uniformly and universally 
 obeyed, all lying, swearing, stealing, murder, drunkenness, 
 6abbath-breaking, blasphemy, infidelity, covetousness, war, 
 fornication, adultery, swindling, treason, malice, oppres¬ 
 sion, and the whole long and black catalogue of human 
 vices, would disappear from the land of the living—that the 
 
162 Unitarianism and Trinitarianism compared, 
 
 golden age, which has existed only in the dreams of poets, 
 would be realized—our assizes would be all maiden as¬ 
 sizes—our sessions mere forms—our judges and magistrates 
 more ciphers—our prisons empty and useless—our news¬ 
 papers nothing but the undeformed and unvarying records 
 of human excellence ; that asylums for the distressed, and 
 hospitals for the sick, and Sunday-schools for the gratui¬ 
 tous instruction of the ignorant, and benevolent societies 
 for feeding the hungry and clothing the naked, and sanc¬ 
 tuaries for the worship of the living God, would break out 
 in all directions like stars on a winter’s night, shedding 
 round about them the blessings of science, humanity, and 
 religion, over the face of this well-peopled world. If all 
 this delightful vision would be realized, then, by a perfect 
 obedience to the law of God, of which we are as satisfied 
 as of our own existence, nothing can be plainer, than that the 
 system which honours this law the most, and inspires men 
 ■with the greatest respect for it, and supplies the strongest 
 motives to its observation, must commend itself the most to 
 the understandings of Turks, Pagans, Jews, and Infidels, and 
 to all who have any understanding. The Unitarian system 
 inculcates, that the law of God, which, in the Bible, de¬ 
 mands perfect obedience; “for cursed is every one that 
 continueth not in all things written in the book'of the law 
 to do them,” will be satisfied with sincere obedience. 
 Now, what is sincere obedience? We take it for granted, 
 it is not perfect obedience, else it would have been called* 
 such. But if it is not perfect obedience, it must be im¬ 
 perfect obedience; so then the law of God will be satisfied 
 with imperfect obedience: but this proceeds on the ground 
 that the law is relaxed. But to what extent is it relaxed ? 
 Every man must be judge for himself. Yet is it not hi^hly 
 paradoxical to suppose, that a system which recognizes an 
 undefined relaxation of the law, can be favourable to obe¬ 
 dience ? 01 that it can inspire men with respect for the 
 law ? The law is sunk, by such a system, in the eye of the 
 subject; for although, in the first place, it demanded perfect 
 obedience, yet, as it cannot get that, it will be satisfied 
 with sincere, which, mean what it may, cannot mean more 
 than all it can get; reminding us (pardon the comparison) 
 of the itinerating pedlar who comes to your door, and, in the 
 fiist place, asks a high price for his article, but whom you 
 may beat down from price to price, till at length he takes 
 what you please to give him. 
 
 But we gladly turn from a system which thus sinks the 
 
in their Tendency to Convert Jews, Pagans, fyc. 163 
 
 law, to one that magnifies it, and makes it honourable; that 
 is, the Trinitarian system, which goes upon the ground, 
 that the law must have perfect obedience in every punc¬ 
 tilio, from the swaddling band to the shroud; that it is of 
 no use what men say,—that they are good at the bottom, 
 except they are good at the top, and good all the way from 
 the bottom to the top; that perfect obedience was paid to 
 it by Christ, and is imputed to every one that believes in 
 him—and that the strongest motives to perfect obedience 
 are supplied by the Redeemer’s agony and sufferings, 
 
 ** -- There strongest motives sting, 
 
 “ There sacred violence assaults the soul.” Young. 
 
 It will scarcely be necessary to stop, and ask which of 
 these two will commend itself most to the understandings of 
 these poor deluded devotees of cruel superstitions. 
 
 As we flatter ourselves that we have thus laid the founda¬ 
 tion deep and sound in the judgment, we may now appeal to 
 another faculty, the imagination , for the possession of which 
 oriental unbelievers are celebrated. But here we are aware, 
 that the soundness of this ground may be questioned by 
 some, though we confess that we do not think it questionable. 
 All the works of God are calculated, from their being 
 awfully vast or elegantly little, to fill the imagination with 
 the most sublime, and kindling, and admiring conceptions, 
 and may be legitimately used for that purpose. “ The 
 heavens that he hath meted out with a span, the waters 
 that he hath measured in the hollow of his hand, the 
 mountains that he hath weighed in scales, and the hills 
 that he has poised in a balance,” fill the imagination with 
 the highest conceptions of his power, and w'isdom, and 
 goodness, and majesty, “ who hath the heaven for his 
 throne, and the earth for his footstool; the cloud for his 
 chariot, and the winds for the wings” on which he flies 
 through the universe, “ glorious in holiness, fearful in 
 praises, doing wonders.” Why is it, then, that redemption 
 —redemption of immortal souls from hell flames, is the 
 only work of God that falls within the range of human 
 knowledge—the only work of God that may not be legi¬ 
 timately employed to fill the imagination with the most 
 sublime and exalted conceptions of him who accom¬ 
 plished it ? Is it the fear, that being so glorious a work, 
 it should fill the imagination with too exalted concep¬ 
 tions and sentiments of him who accomplished it? Or is 
 it the fear, that it should raise expectations in the mind, 
 
 VOL. VIII.— no. 2. N 
 
164 XJnitarianism and Trinitarianism compared, 
 
 which the next world will not satisfy? Or what? Surely, 
 if “ the wave of mighty forests, and the rush of sounding 
 waterfalls,” and distant glimpses of human territory, and 
 pinnacles of everlasting snow, and the sweep of that 
 circling horizon, which folds in its ample embrace the 
 whole of this noble amphitheatre, are employed, and 
 legitimately too, to give birth to the most exalted and 
 majestic conceptions of God; then the incarnation of the 
 Son of God, and his atonement for sin, and his resurrec¬ 
 tion from the dead, and his ascension to heaven—and his 
 second coming to judge the world, and take his saints to a 
 glory, of which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither 
 hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive,—may be 
 employed to kindle it also. Yea, they will set the imagina¬ 
 tion of the believer on fire, in spite of all the cold water 
 that men of no imagination, who are philosophically hard, 
 and scientifically insensible, may throw upon it. With 
 which of these two systems would the imaginations of 
 these deluded devotees be interested, elevated, delighted, 
 and kindled ? Would it be with that which represents 
 Christ a mere man—his mission that of a prophet—his holi¬ 
 ness mere morality—his death a mere example of patience; 
 and that, since his resurrection, we don’t know where he is ? 
 Or with that which represents him as God, who, though he 
 was rich, yet for our sakes became poor, in the assumption 
 of our nature—that he first appeared amongst us in the 
 form of a little child—that, from his swaddling band to his 
 shroud, he buffeted with the billows of trouble, that he 
 might know how to sympathize with us in our calamities— 
 that he went about, God and man in one person, working 
 miracles as benevolent as they were bright, and delivering 
 parables as instructive as they were true—that he died in 
 liis human nature for our sins, and rose again from the 
 dead on the third day for our justification—that he ascended 
 to heaven, where, above that high arch, under which we 
 sleep in our cradles, and worship in our sanctuaries, and rot 
 in our graves, he intercedes at the right hand of God the 
 Father Almighty—and that from thence he will come to 
 judge the quick and the dead, separate the precious and 
 the vile, and raise his saints to heaven, where, in their own 
 nature, he shall shine forever the object of their adoration, 
 the source of their joys, the ornament of creation, and the 
 wonder of the universe; while they shall sing the song, 
 “ Unto him that redeemed us, and washed us from our 
 sins in his own blood, be honour and glory for ever and 
 
in their Tendency to Convert Jews, Pagans , §c. 165 
 
 ever, in hallelujahs lofty as the theme they celebrate,” and 
 countless as the ages through which they shall roll. 
 
 We scarcely need stay to ask which system will fill their 
 imaginations with the most sublime, ravishing, and rich 
 conceptions. 
 
 Let us now look at them, in the appeal they make to the 
 feeling of these individuals—that feeling which constitutes 
 all the difference there is between fallen men and fallen 
 angels ; feeling, the only surviving lineament of original 
 excellence, which has escaped the catastrophe of the fall, 
 like the solitary servant of Job, escaped from the destruc¬ 
 tion in which his fellows were overwhelmed, and which, 
 like him, if it could speak, would finish its tale of woe, 
 by saying, “ I, only I, am escaped alone to tell thee.” 
 Upon this feeling, how would these different systems 
 operate? In order to judge, listen to the different state¬ 
 ments they give of human ruin and human redemption. 
 The Unitarian scheme represents man as being created with 
 the principal part of the appetites he possesses, except a 
 few which he may have contracted by education and 
 example—and that God is so easy on the subject of sin, 
 that although it is the bitter cause of all our calamities, 
 yet he will pardon it without any mark of his decisive hatred 
 against it, on our repentance, although its first object is 
 to dethrone God, and its next to destroy man. The other 
 system represents man as having fallen from original excel¬ 
 lence and happiness into sin, which is the source, the proli¬ 
 fic, the frightfully prolific source of all his sorrows ; but that 
 God so loved the world, and so hated sin, as to give his 
 only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth on him might 
 not perish, but have everlasting life. That “ herein was 
 love; not that we loved God, but that he loved us,and sent 
 his Son to be the propitiation for all our sins.” Which of 
 these two would operate most powerfully on the feelings of 
 that poor Pagan, who stands with outstretched hands and 
 horrible contortions, muttering his deadly incantations at 
 the shrines of devils, hardening his heart with cruelty, 
 and dyeing his hands with blood ? or upon that poor Turk, 
 who is paying a visit to Mecca, and, on his bended knees, 
 is gabbling over a detached passage from the Koran, which 
 is another rivet to his chain, another fetter to his delu¬ 
 sion, another sin to his list? or upon the feelings of that 
 poor Jew, who is seeking for justification by the law of 
 Moses, although just when he seems to have arrived at the 
 summit of his wishes, down all falls to the dust, owing to 
 
166 Unitarianism and Trinitarianism compared. 
 
 the commission of some sin, the omission of some duty, 
 like the wretch in the fabled Pagan mythology, who was 
 doomed to roll a stone up to a certain eminence, and 
 always, whenever it seemed just at the top, down it rolled 
 to the bottom. We leave our readers to judge which will 
 operate most powerfully on the feelings of unbelievers, by 
 the manner they operate upon their own. 
 
 Lastly, let us look at them, as they are calculated to 
 operate upon the fears of mankind. Is there any thing in 
 the Unitarian system to make men, who are naturally in 
 love with sin, afraid of committing it? Will they be afraid 
 of offending God by it? No; for he is so easy and so 
 kind, that he cannot at least be soon offended. Will they 
 be afraid of future punishment? No; for there is none, 
 according to this scheme, or next to none, even for the finally 
 impenitent. What is there then to alarm their fears, if they 
 commit sin? Nothing, comparatively speaking,— nothing. 
 
 Let us now look at the other system, and see how it 
 alarms the sinner. It points us to the Saviour on the 
 cross; and who, with that affecting spectacle before his 
 eyes, can doubt for a moment, whether it is, or is not, God’s 
 intention severely to punish sin ? Who that sees the Saviour 
 swelled with strokes, pale with death, besmeared with 
 spittle, and stained with blood, for sin, can doubt it for a 
 moment? This determination severely to punish sin, is 
 eminently calculated to work on the fears of mankind, for 
 it is got, not from our own speculations about the matter, 
 but from a fact; the same fact by which the feelings are 
 operated upon, and that is, the crucifixion of Christ. It 
 decides in a moment, in the mind of the man that believes 
 Christ was crucified for sin, that it is God’s determination 
 severely to punish it—and although this fact does not say, 
 that the punishment will be everlasting, yet still it con¬ 
 vinces us, that it could not be from a punishment of short 
 duration, that all this scale of continued miracles was con¬ 
 structed, or else there would be such a huge disproportion be¬ 
 tween the means and end. It must have been, from a punish¬ 
 ment truly dreadful, and which is explained by the Saviour 
 the gentle Saviour, himself; and it is remarkable, that his 
 language is the most awful that is to be found any where on 
 the subject; ‘‘ there their worm dieth not, and their fire is 
 not quenched. Which of these systems then will operate 
 most powerfully on the fears of these men; the Unitarian 
 which prophesies smooth things, or the Trinitarian, which 
 cries Fire! fire! in the ears of the sinner? 
 
Hora Juridica. 
 
 167 
 
 -For the reasons thus stated at length, though we are 
 apprehensive that they have been but too feebly enforced, 
 we think it abundantly plain, that the Trinitarian scheme 
 will operate most powerfully on the understandings, and 
 imaginations, and feelings, and fears, of unconverted men, 
 to whom, be they Pagans, Mahometans, Roman Catho¬ 
 lics, or mere nominal professors of a purer form of Chris¬ 
 tianity, we would say, that the gospel answer to the ques¬ 
 tion, “ What must I do to be saved?” is, “ Believe on the 
 Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shaltbe saved!” 
 
 HORJE JURIDICiE.—No. I. 
 
 On the Origin and Principles of the Law of Libel; and the 
 Punishment of Defamation amongst the Jews , Egyptians , 
 ancient Persians, and Lydians. 
 
 Those persons can have formed but a very imperfect 
 notion of the nature and objects of Legislation, in a civilized 
 state, who conceive that the pains and penalties of its vin¬ 
 dictive sanction should be principally, if not exclusively, 
 applied to those injuries which immediately affect the lives, 
 the persons, or the property of individual members of the 
 community. True it is, indeed, that in the earlier stages of 
 society, the criminal code of every country was strictly 
 confined within these limits; and it was so confined, for a 
 reason at once sufficient and obvious. There were, then, no 
 other rights for the lawless to violate, or which the peace¬ 
 ful subject could wish to defend. The “ honeste vivere; 
 alterum non Icedere; suurn cuique tribueref* —three short 
 maxims, to which the Justinian code has reduced the whole 
 elements of jurisprudence, has a higher origin, and a more 
 binding authority, than that of a system which weakened 
 every principle of equity it contained—and they were nei¬ 
 ther few, nor difficult to be applied—by a mark of tyranny 
 in the sovereign, and of slavery in the people, which, con¬ 
 ceived in but few words, was in itself capable of annihi¬ 
 lating the liberty of the one, and establishing the despotism 
 of the other: “ quod principi placuit, legis habet vigorem.”f 
 In fact, notwithstanding the various speculations of cer¬ 
 tain writers, who have shrewdly suspected that theft is not 
 prohibited by the law of nature, it might easily be shewn, 
 were this the place to enter on the disquisition, that these 
 maxims constitute the elements, we had almost said the foun- 
 * Inst. i. 3. t Inst, ii, 6. 
 
168 
 
 IIorcB Juridica. 
 
 dation, of those eternal, immutable principles of right 
 and wrong, with which the revealed law of God accords, 
 and every human law should harmonize, or lose its hold 
 upon the consciences of men. These principles of justice 
 are adapted, therefore, to every stage of society, and should, 
 at all periods, form the basis of its laws. But the particu¬ 
 lar duties which they require to be performed; the variety 
 of injuries they may be made to prohibit; the incitements 
 necessary to be held forth, the punishments to be denoun¬ 
 ced, to secure the performance of the duty, and to prevent 
 the commission of the crime, are not so fixed, but must 
 change with the changing manners of a people advancing 
 from barbarism to civilization; from civilization to refine¬ 
 ment; and from refinement but too often sinking into pre¬ 
 mature decay. 
 
 Some considerable time would, for instance, elapse, ere 
 the savage of the desert would be induced to admit the su¬ 
 perior right of his brother savage to the skin of the beast he 
 had slain in the chase, tor a moment longer than actual posses¬ 
 sion demonstrated his intention of appropriating it to him¬ 
 self. His readiness and ability to maintain that possession, 
 against any one who should attempt to strip from his back 
 the trophy of his skill, and the only shelter of his person 
 from the inclemency of the weather, would perhaps, too, 
 after all, be the best protection of a property, so transient, 
 so ill-defined, and so ill-protected by laws, which can only 
 derive a permanent and effectual sanction from mutual com¬ 
 pact, which, originating in mutual danger, ascertains mu¬ 
 tual rights, and establishes, on an equitable basis, the 
 mutual relations of civil and of social life. The terms of 
 that compact must have been pretty well understood ; the 
 extent of those rights accurately, however disproportion- 
 ately, ascertained ; and the duties of those relations defined 
 with a considerable degree of precision, before the legis¬ 
 lative code of any nation could have provided remedies 
 for those inj uries, or punishments for those crimes, which 
 have not a direct and immediate, but an indirect and more 
 remote, effect upon the happiness of individuals, and the 
 peace of society. If we look, therefore, to the earlier pro¬ 
 visions of our own, or of any other body of laws, we shall 
 find them chiefly, if not solely, directed to the prevention, 
 or rather to the punishment, of offences committed by the 
 strong arm of open and lawless violence, the tendency of 
 which to put in jeopardy the lives and property of the 
 more honest and peaceable members of the community, is 
 
Iiorcc Juridica. 
 
 1(59 
 
 neither concealed, nor attempted to be concealed, rather than 
 to guard against those more subtle devices which effectuate 
 the same purpose by art instead of force, cloaking them¬ 
 selves the while with pretences so specious, and having so 
 little about them to awaken the caution of the most pru¬ 
 dent, that their real object is not immediately discovered. 
 It never has been, and in the nature of things it never could 
 be, a characteristic of those provisions, that they embraced 
 circumstances which never could arise, injuries which could 
 have no existence, until the manners and habits of the peo¬ 
 ple, for the regulation of whose conduct they were enacted, 
 in the slow, but certain march of civilization, of moral and 
 intellectual refinement, and of commercial enterprise, had 
 assumed very different features to those to which they 
 could, and ought alone, to adapt themselves. 
 
 Legislation is a progressive work; and from its intimate 
 connexion with the changing manners and circumstances of 
 mankind, its advancement to perfection, if even to the 
 standard of human perfection it ever can attain, must 
 inevitably be slow. In its earlier stages, the protection of 
 the lives, the persons, and the properties of individuals 
 from the effects of immediate violation, and the prevention 
 of direct attempts to subvert the government established, or 
 rather permitted to have an uncertain existence, (suspended 
 as it were by a single thread, which the sword of any power¬ 
 ful leader might cut, or the storm of popular commotion 
 could in an instant tear asunder,) by pains and penalties 
 the most effectual which the narrow capacities of the legis¬ 
 lators couid devise, or the imperfect subordination of the 
 people w ould permit them to enact,—is all we must look for, 
 and all that we shall ever find. But as civilization advances, 
 as the arts are cultivated, as commerce extends itself, a 
 new order of things arises; and it is discovered, that there 
 are other and often more effectual means of gratifying a 
 malicious, an envious, or a revengeful disposition, than by 
 openly, or even secretly, though directly, attacking the per¬ 
 sons or property of those at whose prosperity the heart sick¬ 
 ens, or whose interests a malevolent spirit would seek to under¬ 
 mine. As the intercourse and connexion of men with each 
 other, for the purposes of social life, or of commercial traffic, 
 strengthen and extend themselves, the necessity for mutual 
 confidence attaches a value to individual reputation, which 
 in a savage and uncommercial state of society must have 
 been at its lowest ebb, if indeed it can be said to have had 
 any existence at all. But as the value of this personal 
 
170 
 
 Hora Juridica. 
 
 reputation, and the great importance of establishing and 
 maintaining a national character for the strict observance 
 of public faith, would increase in an exact ratio with the 
 intercourse of individuals, of public bodies, of governments, 
 and of nations, it must be self-evident, that whatever could 
 contribute to extend this intercouse, would in an equal 
 degree enlarge the means, and increase the opportunities, 
 of injuring another, in a point which, under some circum¬ 
 stances, may be dearer to him than life, and often of more 
 value than all the property he may possess. Upon the 
 character he maintains in the world, the future enjoyment 
 of the one, and the increase or even the continuance of the 
 other, may indeed frequently be found most essentially to 
 depend. It might also be demonstrated with equal ease, 
 for it is a fact equally obvious, that whatever gives general 
 facility to an attack upon personal reputation, must open, to 
 such as are inclined to avail themselves of it, a wider field 
 for attempts to excite in the minds of the people sentiments 
 of dissatisfaction with the government under which they live, 
 and thus to weaken its authority: but the point is too clear 
 to need illustration. 
 
 In the combined operation of these two causes, the neces¬ 
 sity of protecting the character of individuals from unjust 
 and unwarrantable attacks, and governments from being 
 brought into contempt and jeopardy, originated those legis¬ 
 lative provisions, which are usually classed under the head 
 of the Law of Scandal, and of Libel. Of that law it is the 
 intention of the present article of our lucubrations, and of 
 a few of its successors, to trace the history, with a view, from 
 the practices of other nations, to illustrate and to defend 
 some supposed peculiarities in our own. Against these 
 the voice of faction and of ignorance has raised the clamour 
 of innovation, when, in point of fact, the principles on which 
 they are founded—for it is principles, and not mere techni¬ 
 calities, which we wish to discuss—are gathered from the 
 collective wisdom of ages, and sanctioned by the usage of 
 every nation and kindred of the civilized world. The asser¬ 
 tion may be bold, but we hope to prove it to be true, to the 
 satisfaction of every unprejudiced mind, and to an extent 
 of which even our lawyers are not fully aware. 
 
 That the subject which is thus proposed for consideration 
 is an important one to every person who takes the smallest 
 share in our public affairs, or in the political discussions 
 which they engender, or who, in the daily intercourse and 
 mere private relations of life, is called upon to enter into 
 
Ilora Juridica. 
 
 171 
 
 communications upon the character of another, it cannot 
 surely be needful to demonstrate. Independent too of the 
 immediate and personal interest which we may all of us 
 take in its investigation, there is attached to the subject, a 
 question of deep public interest, and of very general im¬ 
 portance, involving no less than the liberty of the press 
 on the one hand, and the check of its licentiousness on the 
 other. 
 
 In discussing such a subject, it can scarcely be necessary 
 to observe, that the term Libel, which, to a modern ear, is 
 apt as it were intuitively to convey the idea of a publica¬ 
 tion of some criminal matter, is, in its literal meaning, 
 perfectly harmless, being but a mere diminutive of the 
 Latin word liber, and signifying nothing more than a 
 written composition, or little book.* * * § And even on its first 
 adoption as a technical term by the Roman lawyers, its 
 import was very different to that which we now attach to it, 
 for they employed it as the distinctive appellation of the 
 roll delivered to the prsetor in open court, by the plaintiff 
 or accuser, in every cause which was brought before him ;t 
 answering in substance to the declarations, indictments, 
 and informations ex ojficio of our modern law, and indeed, 
 when reduced to writing, to legal proceedings in general.^; 
 But in the forums, and the codes of the Roman emperors, 
 the term thus engrafted on the law soon acquired a more 
 exclusive application to those writings which reflected 
 upon the conduct of persons in authority, or on the cha¬ 
 racters of individuals,^ though in its general application it 
 was still variously, and, as it would seem, indifferently, 
 employed to denote petitions and remonstrances to, and 
 written answers or messages from, the emperors and other 
 persons of rank ;||—informations, state papers, and writings 
 of a public nature in general briefs or instructions of the 
 
 * Ennius Fragm. Horace Carm. v. 8, 16 ; Epist. i. 13, 4. 9, 17, &c. 
 Ovid, Fast. i. 124. ii. 549 ; ex Pont. iv. xxi. 25. et passim; Pkae- 
 drus i. prol. 3.; Cicero pro Clement. 51; Ausonius, Epig. ix. 1. 
 xxiv. 3. &c. 
 
 ■f Horace, Sat. i. 4, 66.; Plin. Epist. vii. 27. x. 6, 5.; Jnvenal, 
 Sat. vi. 143.; Quintilian, Inst. vi. 2. xii. 8.; Tacitus Ann. ii. 44. 
 
 J Plautus Curculio i. 2, 6.; Juvenal, Sat. xxxi. 107.; Suetonius 
 Nero, 15. ; Claud. 37. Cicero in Vcrr. i. 6. 
 
 § Tacitus, Ann. I. 72.; Suet. Aug. 55. 
 
 |] Quint. Inst. vi. 3.; Martial viii. 31, 82. xi. 1.; Cicero ad Attic, 
 xvi. 16.; Plin. i. 10. Epist. iii. 18. v. 14. vii. 12. x. 297, &c.; Juvenal. 
 Sat. xiv. 193. 
 
 If Ovid. Ibis. 39.; Tacitus i. 11, 74 ; ii. 30. vi. 8.; Suetonius, 
 Galb. 80.; Florus, iv. 12. 
 
172 
 
 Hold Juridical. 
 
 advocates;* * * § written papers held in the' hand;+ mere 
 memoranda; X a packet or parcel; § epigrams, and the 
 little satirical effusions which have since been denomina¬ 
 ted pasquinades; || advertisements of spectacles, 5T and 
 public notifications in general ;** booksellers’ shops; ft 
 the programma of the theatres, and painted exhibitions of 
 every kind.|'+ 
 
 The very derivation of the term, upon which, for a 
 wonder, our legal antiquaries are perfectly agreed, and have 
 no shrewd surmises to offer, makes it self-evident that libel¬ 
 ling, according to the strict definition of the term adopted 
 by our law from the later of the Roman jurists, could not 
 prevail to any very alarming extent, but with a people, 
 amongst whom the art of writing was pretty generally 
 practised. In the earlier of the ancient codes, as well as 
 in those of more modern nations, before that art was in any 
 very extensive use, we must not therefore be surprised, 
 that we find but very little upon the subject. Most of 
 them contain, however, provisions more or less severe, for 
 the suppression of that disposition, which, by no means 
 deficient in the will, wanted but the means to diffuse and 
 perpetuate the slander, wdiich, from pure necessity, was 
 confined to a verbal publication, injurious and malicious 
 in a greater or a less proportion, according to the circum¬ 
 stances of time and place under which it might be made. 
 To those ruder enactments against scandal and defama¬ 
 tion, which may not inaptly be termed the law of libels, 
 non scripti, we shall therefore direct some portion of the 
 reader’s attention, inasmuch as they were the foundation of 
 the more finished system of laws for preventing the publi¬ 
 cation of those libeili scripti, which, in modern days, have 
 extended themselves, with the extension of writing and 
 printing, to a degree that has alarmed some of the most 
 zealous supporters of the liberty of the press, who wish not 
 that its licentiousness should be permitted to attack, with 
 equal impunity, the throne and the altar; whilst it affords 
 a secure protection to the vilifier of his prince, the insulter 
 
 * Juvenal, Sat. vi. 243.; vii. 107.; Martial, v. 51. 1.; Quint. Inst 
 
 vi. 2.; xii. 8. 
 
 f Pliny, Epist. vi. 5.; Quint. Inst. x. 7. J Suet. Aug. 84. 
 
 § Cicero, Attic, xi. 1. 
 
 || Juvenal, oat. i. 92.; Suetonius, Domit. 14.; Quint. Inst. viii. 6. 
 
 If Catullus, liii. 4. ** Cicero, Philipp, ii. 38. 
 
 ft Cicero pro Quint. 6,15, 19.; Senec. tie Eenef. iv. 12.; Pctro- 
 nius, Sat. 28. 
 
 11 Horace, Sat. i. 41.; Suelcnius, Tib. 306. 
 
I lor a Juridical. 
 
 173 
 
 i 
 
 of his country’s laws, and the bold blasphemer of his God. 
 This course will, too, in some measure, prepare them for the 
 remarks which we intend to offer, on what we cannot but con¬ 
 sider one of the most glaring errors of our own law for the 
 punishment of defamation generally ; in the wide distinction 
 which they make in the punishment of scandal spoken, and 
 the same scandal when reduced to writing; a distinction 
 which, as we shall then endeavour to prove, is not founded 
 on any correct principles of reasoning, but which, on the 
 contrary, in its practical application, is productive of the 
 greatest evils, as well as pregnant with the grossest 
 absurdity. 
 
 In all historical investigations, a believer in revelation 
 is naturally led to look, in the first place, to the Jewish 
 records, as by far the most ancient in existence; and of the 
 state of the law of defamation amongst that extraordinary 
 people, who for a long period had the Almighty at once 
 for their lawgiver and king, the following account has been 
 given by Mr. Holt, in the Introduction to his Treatise on 
 the Law of Libel.* 
 
 “ Amongst the Jew s, to whom a distinct revelation was 
 made, one of the main purposes of which was to revive 
 the characters of the law' of nature, and to retrace those 
 laws which were defaced and almost obliterated by corrupt 
 traditions,—to slander any one, particularly those in autho¬ 
 rity, was expressly forbidden, and the subject of a curse, 
 by the law of Moses.” 
 
 We have, however, carefully examined the 22d and 23d 
 chapters of Exodus, referred to in support of this statement; 
 but neither there, nor in any other part of the Pentateuch, 
 can we find any very express provision against slandering 
 another. “ Thou shalt not revile the gods, nor curse the 
 ruler of thy people,”'!' is the only passage in the first, which 
 has any relation to the subject; but surely, cursing the 
 gods or rulers of the people, (for here, as in some other 
 parts of the sacred writings, those terms are synonymous,) 
 is a very different thing from expressly prohibiting to 
 slander any one, and rendering that prohibition the subject 
 of a curse. In the earlier of the legislative codes, the 
 first of these offences is raised into a species of lasa 
 majestas, or high treason ; whilst of the latter—for they 
 took much better care of kings, and those in authority under 
 them, than of the people—they scarcely make the slightest 
 mention. Nor does the second chapter afford much better 
 * Page 3. t Exodus, xxii. 28. 
 
174 
 
 llora Juridica. 
 
 ground for the assertion, since the first verse alone can at 
 any rate be pressed into the service; and it may reasonably 
 be doubted whether the enactment contained in its former 
 clause, “ thou shalt not raise a false report,” does not much 
 more nearly approach to the falsa clamor, than to the scan¬ 
 dal or defamation of our law; whilst there can be no hesita¬ 
 tion in identifying that of the latter, " put not thy hand 
 with the wicked to be an unrighteous witness,” with the 
 perjury, and subornation of perjury, of modern times. 
 
 The laws of the ancient Egyptians, as far as we are 
 acquainted with their provisions, are equally silent upon the 
 subject of simple defamation. That aggravated species 
 of it, which was sought to be effected by rendering the 
 courts of justice the unconscious ministers of personal 
 malice, or by calling in the sanction of an oath to support 
 a charge falsely preferred against another, was visited with 
 great, and, in so advanced a stage of society, with very 
 unnecessary severity. Perjury, partly from a religious, 
 and partly from a political motive, was in all cases punished 
 by death, it being looked upon as a crime little less de¬ 
 structive of the peace of the community, than it was 
 insulting to the majesty of the gods. In the like vindic¬ 
 tive spirit, false accusers were punished in the same manner 
 as those whom they accused would have been, had they 
 been convicted—an application of the lex talionis, by no 
 means peculiar to this remote period of the history of the 
 world, inasmuch as it still pervades the codes of several 
 of the northern nations, and was once attempted in our 
 own * It may, however, be questioned, whether these laws 
 for the punishment of perjury and false accusations, severe 
 . as the Y unquestionably are, would have been sufficient to 
 prevent the evil resulting from individual reputation, bein°- 
 in other points left open to attack, amongst a people 
 whose progress in the arts would abundantly furnish them 
 with the means, as the extent of their commerce would 
 readily supply the inducement, to traduce and undermine 
 the character of their neighbours. But here the precau- 
 tions of their well-arranged, though arbitrary system of 
 police, aided the defective legislation of this singular 
 
 * By 37 Edw.III c. 18. which provided, that such as preferred any 
 suggestions to the king s great council, should put in pledges of 
 taliation, to incur the same punishment as would have been inflicted 
 
 u P° n *2 P e , rsons whom accused, in case of their conviction 
 should the charge prove to be untrue. But after the trial of a single 
 year, this law was repealed. gie 
 
IIora, Juridica. 
 
 175 
 
 people, inasmuch as the strict injunction upon every indi¬ 
 vidual to give in, to the governor of his province, a true and 
 correct account of the manner in which he gained his liveli¬ 
 hood, under pain of death, if that account should in any 
 respect be false, would effectually prevent men of talent, 
 without principle, from carrying on the trade of a common 
 libeller, which, after all, is far more injurious to personal 
 reputation, and to the safety of the state, than any attack 
 that might be feared from the tongues of persons envious 
 of individual prosperity, or who conceived themselves 
 called upon to revenge then own real or imaginary wrongs, 
 by holding up to the contempt of the people the oovern- 
 ment which had inflicted them. In the one instance, you 
 have, it is true, plenty of combustible matter, but it may 
 remain innoxious for ever, for want of the spark to explode 
 it; in the other, you have the torch and the train always 
 ready to be applied to every inflammatory substance, 
 which waited but the first touch of ignition, to spread 
 abroad in every direction a destructive volume of smoke and 
 flame. 
 
 “ The Persians,” says the writer already referred to,* 
 in the Introduction to his work, “ had a law which declared 
 it infamous to be detected in a lie. A people enacting a 
 positive law in mere morals, could not be unprovided with 
 a punishment for defamation.” 
 
 This certainly seems to be a very natural and legitimate 
 conclusion : we would accompany it, however, by this obser¬ 
 vation, that the extraordinary attention bestowed by the 
 ancient Persians, in training up their children in the public 
 seminaries, to an habitual direction of their views to the 
 public good; the military spirit of their nation, which 
 appears for a long period to have been an utter stranger to 
 commerce, and never to have pursued it to any extent; 
 and, above all, their blind obedience to every indication of 
 their monarch’s will, and the aw'e with which they contem¬ 
 plated its ministers,—would, in all probability, render the 
 infamy attached to detection in a lie, sufficient to prevent 
 an inclination to public or private defamation from gaining 
 much ground amongst them. It was the character also ot 
 the laws of the ancient Persians, according to the repre¬ 
 sentations of Xenophon, who had sufficient opportunities 
 of making himself acquainted with them, that they tended 
 more than those of any other nation to prevent, rather than 
 to punish, crime; to deter men from the commission of 
 * Holt's Treatise on the Law of Libel, p. 3, 4. 
 
176 
 
 Hodge’s Dissertation on the 
 
 evil, by inspiring them with a love of virtue and a hatred of 
 vice, rather than by a hope of reward, or fear of punish¬ 
 ment.* 
 
 In a very short note upon a case in his twelfth Report,+ 
 my Lord Coke informs us, that the law of the Lydians 
 was, “ that he who slanders another shall be let blood in 
 the tongue, and he who hears it, and assents to it, in the 
 ear, &c.,” but as he does not refer us to the authority upon 
 which he makes this assertion, we have not been able to 
 discover at what period of their history this law was 
 enacted, though from its singular, and, if we may so apply 
 the term, quaint infliction of punishment upon the very 
 organs which were the immediate instruments in commit¬ 
 ting the offence, we should be inclined to ascribe it to an 
 early stage of their legislation. There is every reason to 
 conclude, that the Lydians were a far more commercial 
 people than were their conquerors the Persians, and this 
 circumstance may account for the pains taken by their 
 lawgivers to prevent defamation, though the remedy they 
 applied must have been somewhat more curious than effi¬ 
 cacious. 
 
 / 3 . 
 
 A Dissertation on the Importance of Biblical literature. 
 By Charles Hodge, A.M., Teacher of the Original Lan¬ 
 guages of Scripture, in the Theological Seminary of the 
 Presbyterian, Church, at Princeton, New-Jersey. 
 
 Biblical Literature is usually divided into two great parts, 
 denominated Criticism, and Interpretation, or Hermeneutics. 
 The object of the former, is to determine what is the 
 genuine text of sacred scripture ; of the latter, to discover 
 and exhibit its meaning. 
 
 The series of books which compose the sacred volume 
 were written at different times, during a period of sixteen 
 hundred years. The latest of these productions, therefore, 
 have come down to us through a series of more than seven¬ 
 teen centuries; and the earliest have been preserved for 
 more than three thousand years. During this long period, 
 they have undergone innumerable transcriptions in almost 
 every part of the world, and by every description of per¬ 
 sons. We find, from our own experience, that it is difficult 
 to transcribe a single page without making some mistake; 
 and that to transcribe a volume without an error, would be 
 * Anab. lib. i. f Page 36- 
 
Importance of Biblical Literature. 177 
 
 almost impossible. That the sacred scriptures, therefore, 
 should have been exempted from all errors of this nature, 
 would have required a miraculous superintendence of every 
 one who undertook to transcribe them. We have the most 
 convincing proof, that no such miraculous influence has 
 ever been granted. It has been found, on the collation of 
 the numerous manuscripts still extant, and on the exami¬ 
 nation of other sources of information, that the number of 
 discrepances is very great, and indeed at first view appal¬ 
 ling. It becomes, therefore, a matter of great difficulty and 
 importance, to determine, amidst this vast multitude, which 
 is the true reading, and to fix with certainty the text which 
 proceeded from the sacred penmen. The importance of 
 this subject is such, that it early forced itself on the atten¬ 
 tion of the friends of revelation. Even as early as the time 
 of Origen, the discrepances between the several copies of 
 the Septuagint were so numerous and serious, that he was 
 induced to devote more than twenty-eight years of his life 
 to a laborious attempt to restore its purity, and bring it to 
 a nearer coincidence with the Hebrew. In this department 
 of sacred criticism, he was followed by Lucian of Antioch, 
 and Hesychius of Egypt, whose revised editions became 
 the standard copies of their respective countries, and seem 
 to have included the New Testament as well as the Sep¬ 
 tuagint. 
 
 The same disagreement which Origen had found in the 
 Greek scriptures, Jerome complains of in the Latin. As 
 this ancient version had been made from the Septuagint, 
 which was then the standard both of the Eastern and West¬ 
 ern churches, Jerome at first had courage to attempt no¬ 
 thing more than a correction of this translation, from the 
 improved text of the Greek scriptures, furnished by the 
 labours of Origen. But his manuscripts being lost or 
 destroyed, he embraced the bolder resolution of making a 
 version from the Hebrew text itself. This translation, 
 about the year six hundred, received the sanction of the 
 Bishop of Rome, and became the standard of the Roman 
 church. 
 
 Previously to the time of Jerome, though at what pre¬ 
 cise period is unknown, the Jews had begun to devote much 
 attention to the cultivation of the Hebrew language, and 
 the preservation of their sacred writings. The two prin¬ 
 cipal seats of their learning were, Tiberias, for the western 
 Jews, and Babylon for the eastern. At the former of these 
 places was composed the Jerusalem Talmud, at the latter 
 
178 Hodge’s Dissertation on the 
 
 the Babylonish ; containing the traditionary law of the Jews, 
 with the comments of their doctors. But what at present 
 we are more interested in, is the incredible labour they 
 devoted to fix the text of the Hebrew scriptures, and to pre¬ 
 serve it immaculate. The Masora, which is one of the 
 most surprising monuments of human industry, contains 
 the result of their labours. It embraces the criticisms on 
 the text, which had been handed down from their ances¬ 
 tors ; the most minute details respecting the size, form, and 
 position of the letters; the number of letters in each book, 
 and in the whole Bible ; how often each letter occurs ; and 
 the rules to be observed in transcribing the sacred volume; 
 in short, nothing seems to have been omitted, which inge¬ 
 nuity and industry could devise and accomplish, to preserve 
 the Hebrew scriptures from the slightest alteration. When 
 these Jews were driven from the east, they carried with 
 them to the southern parts of Spain, their fondness for Bib¬ 
 lical criticism, and rendered the twelfth century famous, by 
 the writings of Maimonides, Aben Ezra, David Kimchi, &c. 
 Such was the effect of the labours of the Masorites, that 
 the Jews generally imbibed the belief of the perfect exemp¬ 
 tion of the Hebrew Bible from all errors in letters, points, 
 and accents. On the revival of Hebrew literature among 
 the Christians, shortly before the Reformation, the same 
 belief of the immaculate purity of the sacred text was em¬ 
 braced by them. It was not until the Samaritan Pentateuch 
 was discovered, and brought into Europe, in sixteen hun¬ 
 dred and twenty, that much diversity of opinion on this 
 subject seems to have existed. As this copy of the law of 
 Moses was wTitten in the Hebrew language, but without 
 the vowel points, and in the Samaritan character, critics 
 were led to question the antiquity both of the Hebrew 
 points and letters. As it was still farther observed, that 
 the Samaritan and Hebrew Pentateuchs differed frequently 
 in their readings, Morinus was led to infer from this fact, 
 and from the diversity which existed between the Hebrew 
 and the Septuagint, that the former was much corrupted. 
 In the year sixteen hundred and fifty, Capellus published 
 his Critica Sacra, in which he took the more moderate 
 ground of maintaining, that the Hebrew scriptures had de¬ 
 scended to us with the usual inaccuracies attendant on all 
 works frequently transcribed. The opposition made to 
 these sentiments by Buxtorf and others, was of the most 
 serious kind. The doctrines of Capellus, however, were 
 soon adopted by Walton, and since that period have rapidly 
 
] 79 
 
 Importance of Biblical Literature. 
 
 gained ground. The prevalence of theseopinions naturally 
 gave rise to the desire of knowing the actual state of the 
 Hebrew text, and the amount of the diversity which really 
 existed. This led to the publication of Kennicott’s cele¬ 
 brated edition of the Hebrew Bible, formed from an exten¬ 
 sive collation of manuscripts, both in England and on the 
 continent. This work was finally completed in seventeen 
 hundred and eighty, attended with an immense number of 
 various readings, though few of them are of the least impor¬ 
 tance. This collection has been considerably increased by 
 the labours of De Rossi, who has been followed by J. D. 
 Michael is, and Eichhorn, in this department. 
 
 T he high idea entertained of the purity of the Hebrew 
 text, was to a considerable extent transferred to the received 
 text of the New Testament, which was supposed, by Chris¬ 
 tians generally, to be as free from all imperfection, as the 
 holy religion it recorded. This text became fixed in the 
 Elzevir edition of sixteen hundred and twenty-four. The 
 history of the formation of the received text, as exhibited 
 in this edition, is thus briefly summed up by Griesbach on 
 page forty-two of his Prolegomena. “ The Elzevir edition 
 was formed from that of Beza, and the third of Stephens. 
 Beza followed the third of Stephens, with very few alte¬ 
 rations. This edition of Stephens was the fifth of Eras¬ 
 mus reprinted, with the exception of the few instances 
 in which he preferred the Complutensian. Erasmus formed 
 his text from a few modern manuscripts, with the assistance 
 of the Latin Vulgate, and the writings of a few of the 
 fathers inaccurately edited.”* 
 
 ^ Shortly after the formation of the received text, in the 
 Elzevir edition in sixteen hundred and twenty-four. Bibli¬ 
 cal Literature received a considerable accession, in the pub¬ 
 lication of Walton’s Polyglott, and subsequently of Father 
 Simon’s Critical Histories of the Old Testament and New 
 Testaments. The attention bestowed on this subject gra¬ 
 dually increased, and the number of discrepances was found 
 to be more and more considerable. The received text was 
 gradually obtaining the sanctity of age, and the authority 
 
 * Griesbach very properly remarks, that no edition is entitled to 
 any authority of itself, but is to be estimated by the value of the 
 materials from which it was formed. It has providentially happened, 
 according to the opinion of later critics, that the manuscripts whence 
 Erasmus, and the other early editors, formed their editions, belong 
 to the very class, which of all others is of the most value, and that 
 therefore the received text is better entitled to our confidence than 
 any other which has yet been formed. 
 
 VOL. VIII. — so. 2. 
 
 o 
 
180 
 
 Hodge’s Dissertation on the 
 
 of long continued acceptance, when the Christian world 
 was aroused by the appearance of the edition of Dr. Mill, 
 with its thirty thousand various readings. The subject now 
 assumed so serious an aspect, that the enemies of the truth 
 stood in wishful expectation to see the very foundation of 
 the church undermined, and the pious were turning them¬ 
 selves to God as their last refuge. As this subject, for a 
 time, almost engrossed the attention of Christendom, it 
 was pursued with the greatest ardour. The materials of 
 this science have thus not only been greatly increased, but 
 reduced to the order of a regular system, by the labours of 
 Wetstein, Bengel, Semler, and especially of Griesbach. 
 Although the various readings have been made to amount 
 to no less than one hundred and fifty thousand, yet since 
 it has been found, that rules or criteria could easily be de¬ 
 termined upon, whose application would decide, in almost 
 every important instance, which was the original reading, 
 and that the vast majority of these discrepances were of 
 no importance, relating to mere differences of orthography, 
 arrangement of words, or other trivial particulars, the hopes 
 and fears of the enemies and the friends of the truth, have 
 alike subsided, and the church with more confidence than 
 ever can exclaim —Verbum Dei manet in aternum .* 
 
 It surely will not be considered an unreasonable requi¬ 
 sition, that we review the course of this investigation, and 
 follow the steps which have led to this delightful result; 
 that we carefully consider the evidence, that the Bible we 
 now have, is essentially the Bible which proceeded from 
 the sacred writers. To lead us over this course, and exhi¬ 
 bit this evidence, is the office of sacred criticism. As this 
 is a subject of great interest and importance, it is also 
 one of considerable extent, requiring, 
 
 1. As it regards the Old Testament, a history of the 
 sacred text, through different periods, from its formation to 
 the present day, including an account of the manner in 
 which the several books were originally written, compiled, 
 and preserved, and the various means devised for maintain¬ 
 ing or restoring their purity. 
 
 The first point of interest on this subject, is the consi¬ 
 deration of the question respecting the purity of the Hebrew 
 text; and having come to the conclusion, now universally 
 
 It should be stated, that these errors do not affect the integrity of 
 the text. Because, in almost every instance, they are the mere mis¬ 
 takes of transcribers; and the true reading, though lost in one copy, 
 is preserved in another. 
 
181 
 
 Importance of Biblical Literature. 
 
 admitted, that there is no such thing as a text immaculately 
 pure, to inquire into the various sources of the errors found 
 to exist, and to arrange them in their proper classes. 
 
 Our second object should be, the consideration of the 
 means by which the purity of the text may be restored. 
 This requires a knowledge of the sources whence its origi¬ 
 nal state is to be learnt, such as ancient manuscripts, ver¬ 
 sions, and quotations. 
 
 With regard to manuscripts, we must learn the circum¬ 
 stances by which their comparative authority is to be deter¬ 
 mined ; as, their antiquity, the care with which they have 
 been written and preserved, and the particular family or 
 class to which they belong. 
 
 The consideration of the ancient versions leads us into 
 the extensive history of the LXX. Whether this version 
 derived its name from the belief, that seventy-two persons 
 were engaged in the translation, or from its being made 
 under the sanction of the council of seventy elders, is un¬ 
 certain. It is strongly recommended to our attention, by 
 its high antiquity; by the authority it so long maintained 
 both in the Jewish and Christian church; by the influence 
 it has had on the style of the New Testament; and its 
 importance in ascertaining the ancient readings of the Old. 
 The other versions of importance are, the Greek translations 
 of Aquila, Symmachus, and Theodotion—the ancient Latin, 
 the Syriac, and the Chaldee Paraphrases, or Jewish Tar- 
 gums. Each of these versions is considered as in some 
 measure exhibiting the text, at the period in which they 
 were respectively made. In this connexion should be men¬ 
 tioned the Samaritan Pentateuch, which is the Hebrew 
 text in the Samaritan character, and, as is generally sup¬ 
 posed, the ancient Hebrew character. As this Pentateuch 
 has come down through a channel entirely distinct from 
 that by which the Jewish scriptures have been received, 
 and as it has had considerable influence in regulating the 
 course of sacred criticism, it becomes one of the most 
 interesting documents connected with this subject. The 
 principal quotations of importance from the Hebrew scrip¬ 
 tures are to be found in the Jewish Talmuds. In addition 
 to these sources of information, should be mentioned, the 
 Masora, which contains the critical apparatus of the Jews, 
 for restoring and preserving the purity of the text. 
 
 After attending to these various means of arriving at a 
 knowledge of the original state of the Hebrew Scriptures, 
 we are next to consider their relative value, and the rules 
 
182 Hodge’s Dissertation on the 
 
 to be adopted in selecting from the various readings they 
 afford. 
 
 And, finally, we are to review the history of the actual 
 application of these means, to the restoration of the text, 
 which involves an account of the early critical labours of 
 the Jews, and the subsequent labours of Christians, which 
 can only be given in an account of the various critical edi¬ 
 tions of the Hebrew Bible. 
 
 When we turn to the criticism of the New Testament, we 
 meet a subject of far greater extent and importance, al¬ 
 though we shall have the same general course to pursue : 
 examining, first, the sources of the errors; secondly, the 
 means of their correction; and thirdly, the history of the 
 application of these means. 
 
 Most of the sources of error, which affected the Old Tes¬ 
 tament, have also operated on the New, and many of them 
 to a much greater extent; because the New Testament was 
 more widely diffused, more frequently and less carefully 
 transcribed. The attention the Jews devoted to the cor¬ 
 rectness of their manuscripts, was carried to a superstitious 
 extent. The rules which they prescribed to their tran¬ 
 scribers, embraced the most minute particulars, such as, 
 the size and form of the letters, the number to be comprised 
 in each line, their distance from each other, &c. This la¬ 
 borious attention, joined with the influence exerted by the 
 predictions of the rabins, as to the result of the least mis¬ 
 take, produced a degree of srupulous care, which was 
 never extended to the books of the New Testament. This 
 circumstance, together with the great multiplication of the 
 copies of the New Testament, would lead us to expect, that 
 the discrepances between these copies would be more seri¬ 
 ous than the various readings of the Old Testament. The 
 means of correcting whatever errors really may exist, and 
 of arriving at the knowledge of the original text, may again 
 be referred to the several heads of manuscripts, versions, 
 and quotations. 
 
 In estimating the value of manuscripts, we must, as before, 
 attend to their antiquity; the care with which they were 
 written; their purity, or freedom from corrections or inter¬ 
 polations ; and the class to which they belong. This last 
 subject rises into incalculable importance, from the fact, 
 that critics do not hesitate to merge one hundred manu¬ 
 scripts into one testimony, and to make one counterbalance 
 an hundred, according to the particular class to which they 
 belong. In other words, in judging of any particular read- 
 
183 
 
 Importance of Biblical Literature. 
 
 ing, the number of individual manuscripts is hardly taken 
 into the account; the only question is, by how many classes 
 or recensions is it supported ? as these only are considered 
 as independent witnesses. For this, there is clearly impor¬ 
 tant reason, since it would be as improper to adduce as 
 separate testimony, the several transcripts of the same 
 manuscript, as the several copies of the same edition of 
 any printed work. But the difficulty lies in finding suffi¬ 
 cient criteria for separating the several manuscripts into 
 their distinct classes. There is certainly danger of exalting 
 to the rank of independent witnesses, those which are not 
 entitled to this authority. Bengel first proposed this prin¬ 
 ciple of classification. He was followed by Semler, and 
 afterwards by Griesbach. These critics, observing among 
 the numerous various readings exhibited by existing manu¬ 
 scripts, that in characteristic readings many of them agreed, 
 and that this coincidence was so marked, that it could not 
 have been fortuitous; the manuscripts thus agreeing, they 
 referred to the same class, family, or recension. And they 
 still farther remarked, that those manuscripts which agree 
 in their characteristic readings, came from the same coun¬ 
 try, and coincide with the several versions, and with the 
 writings of the fathers which belong to their respective 
 districts. Hence these recensions are called the Western ; 
 the Alexandrine, and the Byzantine, as prevailing in these 
 several sections of the church. This is Griesbach’s distribu¬ 
 tion. The manuscripts belonging to the two former of these 
 classes, are extremely few, yet on the supposition that they 
 are separate and independent witnesses, these few, in case 
 of their coincidence, are made to outweigh the multitude 
 which belong to the Byzantine division. It is on this coin¬ 
 cidence that the authority of Griesbach’s text is founded. 
 It is plain, therefore, that this authority may be destroyed, 
 either by shewing that there is no sufficient ground for 
 thus separating manuscripts into distinct classes, which 
 was the opinion of Matthaei, and other distinguished men, 
 and which is the tendency of a great part of Dr. Laurence’s 
 Essay on this subject; or, admitting that there is good rea¬ 
 son for this classification, by shewing that some of these 
 witnesses are unworthy of credit. This, Mr. Nolan has 
 attempted, in his work on the Integrity of the Greek Vul¬ 
 gate. His object was to prove, that the Byzantine text, 
 which is that followed in the received text of the New Tes¬ 
 tament, is the only one which has come down uncorrupted, 
 and supported by the uniform traditionary testimony of the 
 
184 
 
 Hodge’s Dissertation on the 
 
 church. Instead of calling the first two classes Western 
 and Alexandrine, he calls them Egyptian and Palestine, 
 and gives (page 105) a satisfactory reason for the preva¬ 
 lence of the first in the Western church, and of the second 
 in Alexandria. By thus changing the birth-place of these 
 two recensions, he is enabled to give an historical account 
 of their origin. The Egyptian text he ascribes to the revi¬ 
 sion of Hesychius, the Palestine to that of Eusebius. The 
 Byzantine was edited by Lucianus. The last-mentioned 
 editor, he supposes, published the then authorized text, 
 without alteration ; whereas both the others corrected their 
 copies agreeably to their own views, and to the state of 
 opinion in their respective countries, with which he shews 
 they very, strikingly correspond. In thus assigning to 
 Griesbach’s two most important classes a recent origin, and 
 endeavouring to fix on them the charge of systematic cor- 
 luption, he has attempted to undermine the authority of his 
 piinciples for settling the text. How far he has succeeded 
 in this attempt, must be left for others to decide : it may, 
 however, be safely asserted, that enough has been accom¬ 
 plished, to make the friends of truth hesitate to acknow¬ 
 ledge the exclusive authority of a text, which is the result 
 of so questionable a system. 
 
 After the manuscripts, the next source of information is 
 tie early versions, of which the most important are, the 
 feynac, the old Latin or Italick, the Sahidic, and the Latin 
 
 ulgate. Each of these is made to contribute an important 
 part in settling the sacred text. The history of each, there¬ 
 fore, calls for our serious attention. 
 
 • ? UOt 1 a . t *? ns f rom New Testament in the early fathers, 
 is the third source, and one which has given rise to much 
 discussion, and exerted great influence on the theories of 
 eminent critics. It is one, also, of peculiar difficulty, owing 
 
 to the loose memoriter manner in which these quotations 
 were frequently made. 1 
 
 Alter considering these sources of information as to the 
 original state of the sacred text; we are next to attend to 
 the rules by which we are to be governed in our choice of 
 the various readings they afford. 
 
 To learn what has been done in attempting to restore the 
 purity of the text, we must study the principles on whicli 
 the most important editions of the New Testament were 
 conducted, and their respective histories, especially those 
 
 Griesbach. eS * EraSmUS ’ Ste P hens ' Mil1 ' Wetetein, and 
 
Importance of Biblical Literature. 
 
 185 
 
 Such is a very imperfect outline of the first division of 
 this subject. Before proceeding to say any thing on inter¬ 
 pretation, I would mention two or three subjects, on which 
 our minds should be previously made up, viz. the canonical 
 authority, the genuineness, and the inspiration, of the sacred 
 scriptures. 
 
 With respect to the first, it is evidently proper that we 
 know what books are to be recognized as scripture, before 
 we proceed to consider the principles on which the sacred 
 writings are to be explained. The consideration of the 
 second subject, is little more than the extension of the appli¬ 
 cation of the principles of sacred criticism, ascending from 
 the investigation of the genuineness of particular passages 
 to the genuineness of entire books. 
 
 The reason for placing the inspiration of the sacred scrip¬ 
 tures in this part of our course, is two-fold: 1st, that we 
 may study them under the deep impression that they are 
 the word of God ; and 2dly, because it may be found that 
 the divine origin of the scriptures should exert a consider¬ 
 able influence on the principles by which they are to be in¬ 
 terpreted. It is one of the first principles of interpretation, 
 that in explaining any work, respect is to be had to the cha¬ 
 racter of its author. But if the doctrine of the plenary 
 inspiration be true, God is the real author of the sacred 
 scriptures. It is readily admitted, that this fact does not 
 interfere with their having been written according to the 
 common principles of language, which the object they were 
 intended to answer rendered absolutely necessary. In 
 translating the sacred writings, therefore, the principle in 
 question may not exert any great influence ; but when we 
 come to explain them, it will be found of esssential impor¬ 
 tance. The rules of interpretation, which arise out of the 
 divine origin of the Bible, are as clearly ascertained, and as 
 well founded, as those which arise from any other source, 
 resting on the authority of the sacred writers themselves. 
 It is from them we learn, that the old dispensation was 
 preparatory to the new; that the law was “a shadow of 
 good things to come,” and is to be explained accordingly. 
 
 Before entering, therefore, on the second department of 
 this subject, we should be convinced of the canonical 
 authority, authenticity, and inspiration, of the sacred scrip¬ 
 tures, that we may be able to take their divine authority as 
 
 now to endeavour, briefly, to state the course to be 
 pursued in the Interpretation of the Bible. 
 
 proved, 
 I am 
 
186 
 
 Hodge’s Dissertation on the 
 
 And in the first place, we may mention what is either 
 essential, or highly important, in the interpreter himself; 
 as, first, a knowledge of the languages in which the Bible 
 was originally written. Any one who reads a work in a 
 translation, reads it through a glass darkly. The words 
 and'phrases of no two languages exactly correspond; and the 
 indescribable shades of meaning, which words derive from 
 peculiar combinations, it is impossible a version should 
 retain. Without dwelling on this subject, it is sufficient to 
 appeal to the experience of every one acquainted with any 
 two languages whatever. How would the ancient classics 
 be estimated, if judged by a literal translation ? He should 
 also be acquainted with the character and history of the 
 several sacred writers, with the state of opinion in the age 
 in which they lived. This is of peculiar importance in 
 regard to the New lestament, and includes a knowledge of 
 the sects and opinions of the Jews, of the early Christian 
 doctrines, and of the early heresies. He should also be 
 acquainted with the manners and customs, the laws, cha¬ 
 racter, and circumstances of the persons to whom the sacred 
 writings were addressed, their civil history, with that of 
 neighbouring nations, together with whatever light, geo¬ 
 graphy, chronology, natural history, and philosophy, can 
 cast on the sacred volume. 
 
 The interpreter of scripture should be discriminating and 
 cautious; he should be humble and teachable, sensible of 
 his need of divine teaching, and anxious to obtain it. Of 
 all qualifications, the most important are, piety, and a firm 
 conviction of the divine origin of the scriptures : without 
 these we can never enter into the feelings and views of the 
 sacred writers, nor have any proper impressions as to the 
 design of the Bible, and therefore cannot be prepared to 
 expound it. The first duty of an interpreter is to become 
 acquainted with the meaning of words, the several classes 
 into which they are naturally divided, and to become fami¬ 
 liar with the general principles of language. 
 
 We must next attend to the common acceptation of words 
 and phrases, and the sources of information on this subject • 
 we should inquire into the circumstances by which the 
 import of words and phrases is regulated in all languages • 
 such as the opinions, laws, and customs of the people the 
 peculiar circumstances of this nature, which have influenced 
 the language and modes of expression characteristic of the 
 liible. Especially we should attend to the peculiar phrase- 
 o ogy of the Pvew Testament, the sources whence it has been 
 
187 
 
 Importance of Biblical Literature . 
 
 derived, as the Hebrew origin of the sacred writers, their 
 familiarity with the Septuagint> the influence of their reli¬ 
 gious sects, and their intercourse with neighbouring nations. 
 We should study the means by which the language of the 
 New Testament is to be illustrated ; such as, the writings 
 of co-temporary authors, the phraseology of the Old Testa¬ 
 ment, both in the Greek and Hebrew, and the general cha¬ 
 racter of the eastern idiom. 
 
 Having considered these subjects, and fixed in our minds 
 the general principles of interpretation, whether applicable 
 to all writings, or peculiar to the sacred volume, we must 
 attend to the interpretation of figurative language, the con¬ 
 nexion between the literal and figurative meaning of words, 
 the circumstances in which the latter is to be resorted to, 
 &c. 1 his will lead to the consideration of the principal 
 
 figures of speech, such as metaphor and allegory, and espe¬ 
 cially the parables of our Saviour, which have been as often 
 perverted as any part of the sacred volume. It is there¬ 
 fore necessary that we should have distinctly before us the 
 rules by which these figures are to be explained. 
 
 These are only preliminary subjects, which lead to the 
 more extensive principles of interpretation, applicable to 
 whole departments of the word of God, as the rules for 
 historical, doctrinal, typical, and prophetical interpreta¬ 
 tion. The two latter are peculiarly important. We should 
 fix in our minds the precise definition of a type; learn what 
 persons, institutions, and circumstances of the Old Testa¬ 
 ment are to be considered as typical; determine whether 
 we are to confine this character to the particular instances 
 specified in the New Testament, or are at liberty to extend 
 it, and how far. With regard to prophecy, it is unneces¬ 
 sary to say that it will require much laborious study, includ¬ 
 ing two of the most difficult subjects connected with this 
 whole department, viz.—the doctrine of double sense, and 
 the modes of quotation adopted by the sacred writers of 
 the New Testament. And, finally, we must consider the 
 systems of interpretation to which the whole Bible has 
 been made to submit, as the cabbalistic; the allegorical; 
 the mystical, which either deserts entirely the grammatical 
 sense, or exalts some inward feeling above the word; the 
 dogmatical, which makes any system of doctrine an autho¬ 
 ritative rule of interpretation; as the Roman church, the 
 system which they believe to have been handed down in 
 their traditions; and the philosophical, which makes our 
 preconceived opinions the rule of faith; which includes 
 
188 
 
 Hodge’s Dissertation, Sfc. 
 
 the consideration of the proper office of reason in the inter¬ 
 pretation of scripture. The history and claims of these 
 several systems, and their respective influence on the church, 
 open to us as instructive a field of investigation, as any 
 which ecclesiastical history affords. 
 
 We may conclude the general outline of this department, 
 by stating the most important and interesting of the duties 
 it enjoins, viz. the immediate study of the word of God. 
 With this vve are to be occupied from the commencement 
 to the close of our course. The object of Biblical Litera¬ 
 ture, is to enable us to do this with the best advantage. 
 Not contented with prescribing rules of interpretation, and 
 furnishing the various means for the illustration of the 
 Bible, it is a great part of her duty to oversee our actual 
 application of them. It is, therefore, to the delightful 
 employment of studying the scriptures that she invites us. 
 
 I have not forgotten, that the professed object of this 
 Dissertation is to exhibit the importance of Biblical Litera¬ 
 ture. But I feel that 1 have already nearly completed the 
 task assigned me, by shewing, as far as my knowledge of 
 the subject would permit, what Biblical Literature is; 
 because I conceive the feeblest statement of its nature is 
 demonstrative of its importance. The importance of a 
 course of study, whose object is to fix with certainty the 
 sacred text, and exhibit the evidence that the Bible we 
 now have, is the Bible which God delivered to his church; 
 to assist us in discovering and exhibiting its meaning, by 
 prescribing the principles by which it is to be explained, 
 and bringing within our reach the various means of illus¬ 
 tration; and, above all, which leads us so much to the im¬ 
 mediate study of the word itself:—the importance of such 
 a course, is surely a subject on which diversity of opinion 
 is impossible. It is my intention, therefore, on a future 
 occasion, to make some remarks, intended to impress on 
 our minds the necessity of paying particular attention to 
 this subject, the importance of which we must all admit. 
 
 [The above essay, with that which we hope soon to give 
 in continuation of it, was delivered to a society, formed in 
 the theological seminary in which its author is a tutor, for 
 improvement in Biblical Literature, by dissertations on 
 important subjects connected with it, and translations and 
 expositions of sacred scripture, performed by the members 
 in alphabetical order: a plan well worthy of imitation in 
 our own country.— Edit.] 
 
189 
 
 REVIEW. 
 
 1 . Characteristics, in the Manner of Rochefoucauld s Maxims , 
 F’cap. 8vo. pp. 156. London, 1823. Simpkin and 
 Marshall. 
 
 2 . Outlines of Character: consisting of the Great Charac¬ 
 ter—the English Character—Characteristic Classes in Rela¬ 
 tion to Happiness—the Gentleman—External Indications of 
 Character — Craniology—the Poet—the Orator—Literary 
 Characters—the Periodical Critic—the Man of Genius. 
 By a Member of the Philomathic Institution. 8vo. 
 pp. 320. London, 1823. Longman. 
 
 “ It is not easy to write Essays like Montaigne, nor Maxims 
 in the manner of the Duke de la Rochefoucaultso runs 
 the three hundred and seventy-eighth of the four hundred 
 and twenty-four Characteristics in this volume; but it is 
 strangely misplaced towards the close of the book, when it 
 should have stood at the head, as a text, upon which we 
 have a hundred and fifty pages of practical comment. Save, 
 indeed, in a few particulars, better honoured in the breach 
 than in the observance, nothing can conveniently be less 
 “ in the manner of Rochefoucault's Maxims,” than these 
 professed imitations of them. Of the style, and, as far as 
 execution is concerned, the spirit of those celebrated pro¬ 
 ductions, we have ever been as ardent admirers as the author 
 before us can be, though despairing of seeing them equal¬ 
 led in their beauties, whilst their defects were avoided. To 
 this rare excellence, he, however, ambitiously aspires, though 
 confessedly aware of the difficulties of so bold a flight. 
 “ A thought,” says he in his preface, “ must tell at once, or 
 not at alland he observes with as accurate a taste, that 
 in the construction of maxims, whilst “the style must be 
 sententious and epigrammatic, it is equally necessary to 
 avoid paradox or common-place.” By these canons of 
 criticism he cannot object to he tried, for they are his 
 own ; yet strangely do we deceive ourselves, if, ere we 
 have done with him, he is not most satisfactorily proved to 
 have violated both. “ Commencer par le commencement,” 
 then, we can say little, either for the elegant or the epigram¬ 
 matic turn of such expressions, as “ want of confidence in 
 themselves, which is upset and kicks the beam, if the 
 smallest particle of praise is thrown into another’s scale;” 
 nor does the following singular rope of metaphors, which 
 
190 
 
 Review. — Characteristics: 
 
 immediately follow the words just quoted, strike us as very 
 axiomatic, or particularly a la Rochefoucault. “ They are 
 poor feeble insects, tottering on the road to fame, that are 
 crushed by the shadow of opposition, or stopped by a 
 whisper of rivalship.” To our vulgar taste, and dull ima¬ 
 ginations also, the idea and the expression seems equally 
 unhappy, of a woman “ throwing herself unblushingly at 
 our heads,” though some heads, by the way, would not be 
 much injured by a far heavier concussion. Whether that 
 might be the case with the author’s, our readers must deter¬ 
 mine for themselves, as they proceed with our remarks upon 
 this production. 
 
 The desire to say what he considers a smart thing, and 
 to follow out a favourite thought through every possible 
 ramification, frequently leads him into absurdity and para¬ 
 dox ; as where, in the twenty-second maxim, to prove that 
 envy is the most universal passion, he roundly asserts, that 
 “ we envy folly and conceit, nay, we go so far as to envy 
 whatever confers distinction or notoriety, even vice and 
 infamy.” If this be true, we envy the lounging fops in 
 Bond-street, whom every man of sense despises; and are 
 almost willing to be hung and anatomized, to secure the 
 notoriety of the perpetrators of the late horrid murder. 
 In like manner, every day’s experience contradicts an 
 assertion, founded either upon this constant hunting after 
 prettyisms and witticisms, or as certain rumours, hereafter to 
 be stated, lead us to suspect, upon personal pique, “ that 
 if a man is disliked by one woman, he will succeed with 
 none. The sex (one and all) have the same secret or 
 iree-masonry in judging of men.” This is downright non¬ 
 sense. . Nor can we conceive of any thing so volatile and 
 mercurial as our author must be, if he verifies, in his own 
 vei satility, the assertion of his sixtieth characteristic, 
 that “ we often bestow the most opprobrious epithets on our 
 best friends, and retract them twenty times in the course of 
 a day, while the man himself remains the same.” Surely he 
 must have drawn some at least of the views of human life 
 and character from the interior of bedlam, for withoutside 
 its walls, no one, who ought not to be within them, can act 
 in this and several other respects, as he represents the 
 whole human race to do. Other of his sketches satisfy us, 
 indeed, that he must have kept strange company, or we never 
 siould have had a grave denunciation of associating with 
 footmen, thus happily expressed, “ Livery servants (1 con¬ 
 fess it) are the only people I do not like to sit in company 
 
in the Manner o/'Rochefoucault’s Maxims. 191 
 
 with. They offend not only by their own meanness, but 
 by the ^ostentatious display of the pride of their own 
 masters.” What public-house the writer may be in 
 the habit of frequenting, to smoke his pipe and take his 
 glass, we know not; but it must have been in the tap-room, 
 or some such place of low resort, that he could alone be 
 subjected to this affront; and if he sought such company, 
 he at least ought not to complain of their intrusion. We 
 should, however, be astonished at no incongruity in the con¬ 
 duct, tastes, or associations of a man, who deliberately tells 
 us, as the result of his observation of human character, 
 “so that we excite a strong emotion in the breasts of others, 
 yve care little of what kind it is, or by what means we produce 
 it;” so that it is a matter of perfect indifference, whether 
 we excite the warmest and best founded admiration, or 
 the strongest and most merited disgust, by the sublimest 
 virtues on the one hand, or the most detestable vices on the 
 other. The philanthropist and the murderer—the pro- 
 foundest scholar, and the most dexterous thief,—Howard 
 and Colonel Chartres, Milton and Bill Soames, are equally 
 enviable, because equally successful in attaining the chief 
 object of human pursuit in life; and, if there were any truth 
 in the following farrago of nonsense, would be on the same 
 common level at their deaths. 
 
 “ People in the grasp of death wish all the evil they have done 
 (as well as all the good) to be known, not to make atonement by 
 confession, but to excite one more strong sensation before they 
 die, and to leave their interests and passions a legacy to posterity, 
 when they themselves are exempt from the consequences.” [pp. 
 66, 67.1 
 
 Compared with such wretched morality, or rather gross 
 immorality,—so complete a perversion of common sense, 
 and caricature of the principles of human action,—as this, 
 Mandeville, Rochefoucault, and Chesterfield, with all the 
 cynicism, selfishness, and laxity of their systems of ethics, 
 are writers who can do no harm. 
 
 The wish of generalizing—the aim at compressing all that 
 can be said on any subject, into a nut-shell,—has led all 
 maxim-makers and axiomatic writers, Rochefoucault by no 
 means excepted, to lay down rules as universally applica¬ 
 ble, which are but very partially so, and consequently require 
 much modification and qualifying. Thus, when the author 
 before us tells us, that “ we are quite as apt to believe what 
 we dread, as what we hope,” every one who thinks at all must 
 
192 
 
 Review. — Characteristics: 
 
 see, in a moment, that this mainly depends upon constitu¬ 
 tional temperament, some persons as habitually hoping even 
 against hope, as others are sunk into the depth of despair 
 by the slightest disappointment or uncertainty. The 
 nerves, indeed, have often as much to do with our hopes 
 and fears, as the character of the mind. We the rather 
 wonder, too, at his overlooking this obvious fact, as in 
 another part of his book, he accidentally gives to the nervous 
 system a most fearful preponderance in the regulation of 
 our conduct, where, in undertaking a new explanation of 
 the classical confession of the obnoxious and unclassical 
 doctrine of human depravity, “ video meliora proboque, 
 deteriora sequor he, in the following sublimely unintelligi¬ 
 ble rant, says, of the generally received opinion, that we do 
 from passion the things of which our reason disapproves,— 
 
 “ Nothing like it. The course that persons in the situation of 
 Medea pursue, has often as little to do with inclination as with 
 judgment; but they are led astray by some object of a disturbed 
 imagination, that shocks their feelings and staggers their belief, 
 and they grasp the phantom, to put an end to this state of tor¬ 
 menting suspense, and to see whether it is human or not.” [p. 58 .] 
 
 A shaved head and a strait waistcoat would be the fittest 
 regimen, at once for the author, and the subjects, of this new 
 theory of morals. 
 
 In this species of writing, especially, brevity is the soul of 
 wit; and we have often thought, that some of the latter 
 maxims of Rochefoucault have been very faulty, from their 
 wide departure from this rule; but a much larger proportion 
 of those of his imitator are in the like dilemma, of losing- 
 most of whatever point and force they may possess, by their 
 lengthiness. Of this, he would himself seem to be aware, 
 for he has divided several of them into two, three, four, and 
 even five separate maxims or characteristics, although they 
 are so evidently consecutive parts of the same proposition, 
 as to be commenced with an “ or it often arises,” “ this 
 negative system leads“ others make“ it does not 
 render the person less contemptible “ are we to infer from 
 this?” “the foregoing maxim shews,” &c. 
 
 In those maxims we are furnished with abundance of 
 truisms, some of them as novel and instructive, as that a 
 man cannot produce a fine picture, or solve an abstruse 
 problem, by giving himself airs of importance ; a discovery 
 tor which few, we apprehend, will hold themselves very 
 deeply indebted to this new Rochefoucault. 
 
in the Manner o/'Rochefoucault’s Maxims. 193 
 
 Others are at once trifling, little-minded, useless, and 
 absurd; e. g. “ The expression of a Frenchman’s face is 
 often as melancholy when he is by himself, as it is lively in 
 conversation. The instant he ceases to talk, he becomes 
 ‘ quite chop-fallen.’ ” It would have been equally impor¬ 
 tant and instructive to have recorded as an axiom, that 
 ‘‘ the appearance of an Hessian boot is often as dull, when 
 it has been rained upon for an hour, as it is glossy when 
 sent out of the maker’s shop. The instant it has had a 
 thorough soaking, it becomes as dull as though it never 
 had a brush upon it.” 
 
 Nor are we much more edified by the oracular assurance, 
 that Russel could play nothing but Jerry Sneak; and that 
 it was ridiculous to set up Mr. Kean as a rival to Mr. 
 Kemble, a text, upon which we have a page of comment; or 
 struck with astonishment, by the italic prodigious appended 
 to the name of Liston, as an illustration of a character¬ 
 istic, the burden of which is, that “ comic actors have 
 generally attempted tragedy parts, and have a hankering 
 after it to the last.” 
 
 Enough, however, of instances to prove, that this maker 
 of maxims is no Rochefoucault, although he has succeeded 
 in copying some of the faults, without having ability to 
 imitate the beauties, of that agreeable writer. Thus draw¬ 
 ing sketches of human character from the worst features of 
 its worst specimens, they have, though with different 
 degrees of talent and success, formed rules for the conduct 
 of mankind, admirably calculated to render them what 
 they represent them naturally to be, self-interested hypo¬ 
 crites. Such, for instance, are principles of morality like 
 the following“ It signifies little what we Say of our 
 acquaintances, so that we do not tell them what others say 
 against them;” or in other words, it is unimportant whe¬ 
 ther we speak truth or falsehood. On the same system, 
 we are told, that “mankind are a herd of knaves and fools. 
 It is necessary to join the crowd, or get out of their way, 
 in order not to be trampled to death by them.” After such 
 a sweeping condemnation of the whole race of which he is 
 an individual, it can be no breach of charity to say, that the 
 author of this characteristic must either be a fool or knave ; 
 and our perusal of his work would induce us to ask him, as 
 some wit of the last century asked one of its anti-social 
 philosophers, who had pronounced a somewhat similar libel 
 upon his species, “ Pray, sir, may not a man be both ?” 
 That he may, is indeed admitted, by another of these cliarac- 
 
194 
 
 Revieto .— Characteristics: 
 
 teristics, in which there is at once more truth and sense ; “ 1 
 am always afraid of a fool: one cannot be sure that he 
 is not a knave as welland in compliance with this friendly 
 caution, we shall take especial care to keep out of this 
 author’s way. 
 
 In another respect he resembles Rochefoucault, and 
 those satirists who know little of women but the refuse of 
 the sex; and hence attribute to the most chaste and vir¬ 
 tuous the inclinations and vices of the most degraded—the 
 necessity for disguising the one, and refraining from the 
 other, constituting, according to their slanderous theory, 
 the only difference between the modest woman and the 
 shameless prostitute, the latter of whom has evidently this 
 advantage, that she is no hypocrite. “Women,” we are 
 told, “ never reason,” and therefore, adds our astute logician, 
 “they are comparatively seldom wrong.” Yet other of 
 his sketches of the sex, represent them as everlastingly 
 talking about their dress; as neither consulting the head 
 nor heart, but mere humour and fancy, in love, though with 
 them it is “ the great business of life,” in which they con¬ 
 stantly make mistakes, and yet, marvellous to say, only 
 miss making profound discoveries, but “ do not involve them¬ 
 selves in gross absurdities.” These are paradoxes beyond 
 our mean common sense to reconcile, or to solve ; perhaps, 
 however, that nameless qualification of the other sex, which 
 is superior to reason, may enable them to do it more to 
 their satisfaction, than we fear the following extracts from 
 this work will be to the author’s, if their approbation is 
 among the varied objects of his singular ambition. 
 
 “ Women have as little imagination as they have reason. They 
 are pure egotists. They cannot go out of themselves. There is 
 no instance of a woman having done any thing great in poetry or 
 philosophy. They can act tragedy, because this depends very 
 much on the physical expression of the passions—they can sing, 
 for they have flexible throats and nice ears—they can write ro¬ 
 mances about love—and talk for ever about nothing.—Women 
 are not philosophers or poets, patriots, moralists, or politicians— 
 they are simply women.” [p. 114 .] 
 
 “ Women have no speculative faculty or fortitude of mind, and 
 wherever they exercise a continual and paramount sway, all must 
 be soon laughed out of countenance, but the immediately intelli¬ 
 gible and agreeable—but the shewy in religion, the lax in morals, 
 and the superficial in philosophy. The texture of women’s minds, 
 as well as of their bodies, is softer than that of men’s; but they 
 have not the same strength of nerve, of understanding, or of moral 
 purpose.” [p. 115 .] 
 
195 
 
 in the Manner of Rochefoucault’s Maxims. 
 
 “Women^ do not become abandoned with the mere loss of 
 character. They only discover the vicious propensities, which 
 they before were bound to conceal. They do not (all at once) part 
 with their virtue, but throw aside the veil of affectation and pru¬ 
 dery.” [p. 131.] * 
 
 st ^ more strongly do we protest against the anti- 
 Christian, and worse than heathenish, cast of this work. 
 Worse than heathenish, we deliberately repeat, for the 
 philosophers of ancient Greece and Rome, unaided by the 
 light of revelation which we enjoy, were too wise to have 
 written, as this would-be philosopher writes: “Death is 
 the greatest evil, because it cuts off hope.” Now, if this 
 means any thing—though we have often suspected the 
 wretched school to which this writer evidently belongs, of 
 having no meaning in a great part of what they say—it 
 must mean, that death is annihilation ; and happy would it 
 be for them, could they prove it to be so ; and that, conse¬ 
 quently, death, whilst it cuts off hope, puts an end also 
 to fear. But it is not thus that death acts either upon the 
 wicked or the righteous; its approaches being to the one 
 a fearful looking-for of judgment and of fiery indignation, 
 to be revealed in the last day; to the other, a hope full of 
 immortality. To the Christian, therefore, the arrival of 
 death is not the greatest evil, but strongly as the ties of 
 kindred, weeping' friends, and beloved companions, may 
 attach him to this life, it is yet the greatest good ; not the 
 end of hope, but the connecting link between its delightful, 
 though lingering promises, and their full and rapturous fru¬ 
 ition. To strive to believe a contrary doctrine, because the 
 consciousness of a mispent life induces them to wish it 
 were true, is a fearful illustration of one of the scripture 
 characteristics of the wicked, that “ they lay the flattering 
 unction to their souls,” quoted, in these characteristics, with 
 the levity which marks the writings of scoffers at the truths 
 of the Bible, of whose sublime and happy phraseology 
 they frequently avail themselves, “ to round a period, or 
 adorn a tale.” To the doctrines of that sacred volume, the 
 writer before us not only shews a marked neglect, but an 
 open hostility, disposing in a very summary way, in two of 
 his characteristics, of original sin, as a “ negative sys¬ 
 tem of virtue, leading to a very low style of moral senti¬ 
 ment;’* whereas it is one of the pillars on which the sublime 
 morality of the scriptures rests. But of his polemical at¬ 
 tainments, our readers will be able to form a correct judg¬ 
 ment, from the following very satisfactory solution of all 
 VOL. vm.— no. 2. p 
 
196 
 
 Review .— Characteristics: 
 
 the difficulties attending some of the nicest questions, that 
 in all ages of the church have perplexed and divided the 
 wisest and the best of men, and formed a Gordian knot, 
 which it was reserved for the superior illumination of this 
 new philosopher thus dexterously to untie. 
 
 “ The theological doctrines of Original Sin, of Grace, and 
 Election, admit of a moral and natural solution. Outward acts 
 or events hardly reach the inward disposition, or fitness for good 
 or evil. Humanity is to be met with in a den of robbers, nay, 
 modesty in a brothel. Nature prevails, and vindicates its rights 
 to the last.” [p. 131.] 
 
 Was ever such arrant unintelligible fustian put in print, 
 since poor Mat. Lee, in one of his fits of lunacy, exclaimed, 
 
 “ Arise, O Jupiter, and snuff the moon?” 
 
 If any of our readers can understand it, we do not envy 
 them their understanding. 
 
 To avoid the very suspicion of prejudice, we will now, 
 however, extract a few of the best of the maxims which 
 this book contains. 
 
 “ Popularity disarms envy in well-disposed minds. Those are 
 ever the most ready to do justice to others, who feel that the world 
 has done them justice. When success has not this effect in open¬ 
 ing the mind, it is a sign that it has been ill-deserved.” [p. 4.] 
 
 “ What passes in the world for talent, or dexterity, or enterprise, 
 is often only a want of moral principle. We may succeed where 
 others fail, not from a greater share of invention, but from not 
 being nice in the choice of expedients.” [p. 42.] 
 
 “ The truly proud man knows neither superiors nor inferiors. 
 The first he does not admit of: the last he does not concern 
 himself about.” [p. 50.] 
 
 “ Animal spirits are continually taken for wit and fancy; and 
 the want of them, for sense and judgment.” [p. 59.] 
 
 “ In public speaking, we must appeal either to the prejudices of 
 others, or to the love of truth and justice. If we think merely of 
 displaying our own ability, we shall ruin every cause we undertake.” 
 [Ibid.] 
 
 “ A man’s reputation is not in his own keeping, but lies at the 
 mercy on the profligacy of others. Calumny requires no proof. 
 The throwing out malicious imputations against any character 
 leaves a stain, which no after-refutation can wipe out. To create 
 an unfavourable impression, it is not necessary that certain things 
 should be true, but that they have been said. The imagination Is 
 of so delicate a texture, that even words wound it.” [pp. 75, 77.] 
 
 “ Nothing gives such a blow to friendship as the detecting 
 
in the Manner of Rochefoucault’s Maxims . 197 
 
 another in an untruth. It strikes at the root of our confidence 
 ever after.” [p. 77.] 
 
 “ People do not persist in their vices because they are not weary 
 of them, but because they cannot leave them off. It is the nature of 
 vice to leave us no resource but in itself.” [p. 94.] 
 
 “ Habitual liars invent falsehoods, not to gain any end, or even 
 to deceive their hearers, but to amuse themselves. It is partly 
 practice and partly habit. It requires an effort in them to speak 
 truth.” [p. 96.] 
 
 “ Those only deserve a monument who do not need one; that 
 is, who have raised themselves a monument in the minds and 
 memories of men.” [p. 139.] 
 
 “ Those who can command themselves, command others.” 
 [p. 144.] 
 
 There is also much good sense in the following refutation 
 of the leading principle of Rochefoucault’s selfish system, 
 although in form it is more like an essay than a maxim. 
 
 “ It is ridiculous to say, that compassion, friendship, &c. are at 
 bottom only selfishness in disguise, because it is we who feel 
 pleasure or pain in the good or evil of others ; for the meaning of 
 self-love is not that it is I who love, but that I love myself. The 
 motive is no more selfish because it is I who feel it, than the action 
 is selfish, because it is I who perform it. To prove a man selfish, 
 it is not surely enough to say, that it is he who feels, (this is a 
 mere quibble,) but to shew that he does not feel for another; that 
 is, that the idea of the suffering or welfare of others does not excite 
 any feeling whatever of pleasure or pain in his mind, except from 
 some reference to, or reflection on, himself. Self-love, or the 
 love of self, means, that I have an immediate interest in the con¬ 
 templation of my own good, and that this is a motive to action; 
 and benevolence, or the love of others, means in like manner, that 
 I have an immediate interest in the idea of the good or evil that 
 may befal them, and a disposition to assist them, in consequence. 
 Self-love, in a word, is sympathy with myself, that is, it is I w r ho 
 feel it, and I who am the object of it: in benevolence or compas¬ 
 sion, it is I who still feel sympathy, but another (not myself) is 
 the object of it. If I feel sympathy with others at all, it must be 
 disinterested. The pleasure it may give me is the consequence, 
 not the cause, of my feeling it. To insist that sympathy is self- 
 love, because w'e cannot feel for others, without being ourselves 
 affected pleasurably or painfully, is to make nonsense of the 
 question : for it is to insist, that in order to feel for others properly 
 and truly, we must in the first place feel nothing. C’est une 
 mauvaise plaisanterie. That the feeling exists in the individual 
 must be granted, and never admitted of a question: the only 
 question is, how that feeling is caused, and what is its object— 
 and it is to express the two opinions that may be entertained on 
 
198 
 
 Review. — Characteristics: 
 
 this subject, that the terms, self-love and benevolence , have been 
 appropriated. Any other interpretation of them is an evident 
 abuse of language, and a subterfuge in argument, which, driven 
 from the fair field of fact and observation, takes shelter in verbal 
 sophistry.” [pp. 45- 47.] 
 
 Had the work contained many sentiments like these, we 
 should have given a very different character of it; but 
 inasmuch as it only overturns one false system of morality 
 to set up another, (if any thing like a system it contains,) 
 we should not have said so much as we have done about a 
 book of very little value, but that it is generally attributed 
 to a writer who has obtained a very extensive reputation, 
 and who certainly possesses considerable talents, although 
 they have been miserably misapplied. We allude to Mr. 
 Hazlitt; and these characteristics contain internal evidence, 
 which, though circumstantial, is abundantly sufficient to 
 prove the correctness of this appropriation. He is one of 
 the many literary characters of the present day, who, from 
 their merit having been excessively overrated at their first 
 appearance, have now sunk perhaps as much beneath their 
 proper level; and he bears a degradation, for which he may 
 in a great measure thank himself, with a very ill grace, 
 repaying with contempt and abuse the public neglect of 
 himself and his productions. “ Nothing,” he tells us, at 
 the close of one of his characteristics, “ is more unjust 
 and capricious than public opinion;” and the next is but 
 a reiteration of the same complaint, in the sweeping con¬ 
 demnation, that “ the public have neither sense nor gra¬ 
 titude.” For our own parts, we think very differently 
 upon the subject; but if authors, on account of the real or 
 supposed beauties of their compositions, because either with 
 or without merit it was fashionable to admire them, have 
 presumed upon this indulgence, and exacted undiminished 
 admiration for whatever trash they chose to publish, they 
 must nor murmur at meeting with the fate which many 
 a scornful beauty and coquettish flirt has bitterly but inef¬ 
 fectually lamented that she provoked, when she, in her turn, 
 is neglected and despised. 
 
 Loid Byron was the first of those miserably mistaken 
 men, who, intoxicated by praises too extravagant and in- 
 discriminating to last, imagined themselves such favourites 
 with the public, that they might do what they pleased. 
 After they had borne, therefore, with quietness, the irreli¬ 
 gious and misanthropic sentiments of Childe Harold, and 
 others of his earlier productions, he presumed on their tole- 
 
m 
 
 Outlines of Character. 
 
 rating, with equal complacency, the senseless ribaldry of 
 Don Juan, and the gross impiety and cold-blooded malig¬ 
 nancy of his contributions to the Liberal. But this insult 
 to public taste and feeling has deservedly recoiled upon 
 himself, and, as an author, he has sunk—where, but for his 
 own folly, no other man could have sunk him—beneath con¬ 
 tempt. Thither the writer, now more immediately under 
 our notice, is rapidly following him; and his only consola¬ 
 tion in his merited degradation will be, that as he never 
 rose so high, he cannot have so severe a fall, as the noble, 
 yet most ignoble bard, who, in his animated, though vin¬ 
 dictive satire on the colleagues of Mr. Hazlitt in the Edin¬ 
 burgh Review, seems prophetically, though most uninten¬ 
 tionally, to have anticipated his own fate, when he indig¬ 
 nantly asks, 
 
 “ Shall peers or princes tread pollution’s path, 
 
 And ’scape alike the law’s and muse’s wrath ? 
 
 Nor blaze with guilty glare through future time, 
 
 Eternal beacons of consummate crime V* 
 
 But from Mr. Hazlitt, and his feeble imitation of the 
 Characteristics of Rochefoucault, we gladly pass to another 
 work, formed more upon the model of Theophrastus and La 
 Bruyere, under the very modest and unassuming title of 
 “ Outlines of Character, by a Member of the Philomathic 
 Institution;” though we are happy to find that its author 
 has met with sufficient encouragement, in what would 
 appear to be his first appearance before the public, to 
 avow himself, in a second edition of his work, which bears 
 upon its title-page the name of Mr. Robert Maugham, the 
 secretary to the society. His outlines are sketched with 
 a bold and masterly hand, in a style nervous, yet graceful, 
 axiomatical, yet by no means devoid of eloquence, though 
 sometimes verging on the bombastic. They are not indeed 
 all of equal merit, though none of them are so devoid of 
 interest as not to repay the trouble of perusing them, 
 either by some new ideas which they contain, or by the apt, 
 and frequently also the very novel and striking illustration 
 of those which have no claims to originality. In that upon 
 the English Character, (evidently drawn by an Englishman,) 
 the opinion maintained by many writers of eminence, 
 that the character and condition of nations chiefly depend 
 upon the form of their government, is controverted w-ith 
 ability and success. From the very ingenious essay w hich 
 follows, intituled, “ Characteristic Classes in Relation to 
 Happiness,” in which the man of talent and susceptibility-— 
 
200 
 
 Review. — Characteristics: 
 
 the man of talent without susceptibility—the susceptible 
 without talent—the common-place and the clods,—are suc¬ 
 cessively passed in review before us, we select the following 
 very fair specimen of the author’s style, forming a part of 
 his estimate of the share of happiness enjoyed by the 
 dangerously gifted individuals of his first class :— 
 
 “ Let no man envy the occasional exultations, the few fleeting 
 moments of renown and honour, which are snatched by the fore¬ 
 most few in the race of distinction. The purchase is made at the 
 expense of a more solid, if a less brilliant satisfaction—of a more 
 permanent, if a less elevated emotion. Could we witness the 
 anxieties which precede and follow these ‘ longings after fame,’ 
 the possessors of the reward would deserve our pity, rather than 
 our admiration. We see only the beauty of the fabric. The 
 scaffolding is removed—the labour is not seen—the consuming 
 care that formed the design; the health, the comfort, the hilarity, 
 the portion even of life , that has been sacrificed to raise the 
 wonder of a moment, is not the subject of human cognizance. We 
 see the grandeur of the object, and may wish to have the merit of 
 its creation; but will this idle envy, this ‘ momentary buzz of vain 
 renown,’ repay the sacrifice by which it has been purchased? 
 The happiness of these individuals will, in truth, be proportioned 
 to the measure of their intellect. However strong the feelings, 
 if the mind still maintain its preponderance, the equanimity of the 
 character may be preserved. Strong feelings are the general 
 attendants of great talent; but, though strong and impetuous, 
 they do not always lead to despondency, still less to despair! 
 Among beings, however, of this order, the imaginative faculty is 
 often predominant; and though it throws numberless charms 
 around the dull realities of life, it increases the vividness of disap¬ 
 pointed feeling, and adds new acuteness to the intensity of suf¬ 
 fering.” [pp. 61—63.] 
 
 From “ the Gentleman,” we give another short passage, 
 worthy alike of commendation, from the correctness ofits 
 conceptions, and the spirit of its execution. 
 
 “U is worth inquiring, whether a character, adapted for the 
 highest display of heroic virtue, might not be perverted, and 
 perhaps destroyed, by an attempt to graft upon it a stock of the 
 graceful and ornamental qualities. There are also characters 
 formed by nature or accident, or perhaps by the influence of both 
 which appear peculiarly adapted to acquire all that is brilliant in 
 wit and fancy, and all that is fascinating in elegancy and accom¬ 
 plishment. Are not these beings, however produced, by nature 
 accident, or habit, obviously of an opposite and uncongenial cha- 
 ractei, incapable of uniting in the same individual, without the 
 
201 
 
 Outlines of Character . 
 
 destruction of the principal qualities of each ? The refinements of 
 art destroy the dignity of nature—-they aspire to charm only, not to 
 exalt. The poet, whose excellence consists in the elegance and 
 liveliness of his imagination—the painter, whose characteristics 
 are delicacy of touch, and brilliancy of colouring—the musician, 
 whose strains are only melting and harmonious—can never mount 
 to the regions of active heroism. The appropriate scenes of their 
 exploits, are the enamelled lawn, the margin of the rippling stream, 
 the shady bower, and the luxurious abodes of wealth and indo¬ 
 lence. Even the accomplished orator, from whose public exercise 
 we might expect better things, is lost in the very refinement and 
 polish of his art. Witness the vain and cowardly Cicero —the 
 bribed and fugitive Demosthenes ! [pp. 82, 83.] 
 
 The essay on “ External Indications of Character,” gives 
 opportunity for the introduction of the author’s belief in the 
 system once denominated Craniology, but now endeavour¬ 
 ing to establish itself under the newer term of Phrenology. 
 Of that system. Dr. Gall is well known to be the inventor. 
 Dr. Spurzheim, the improver, and very zealous propaga¬ 
 tor, whilst, amongst their warmest and most devoted dis¬ 
 ciples, they need not be ashamed to rank the ingenious 
 author of this volume, who closes a specious defence of 
 their singular discovery, by the following very intelligible, 
 though not peculiarly modest, statement of its high pre¬ 
 tensions. 
 
 “ To sum up,—it will be observed, that the general proposition 
 advanced by the theory is,—that the moral qualities and intellec¬ 
 tual powers of human beings can be ascertained by an inspection 
 of the external form of the head. That the station of the percep¬ 
 tive faculties is in the region of the eye—of the superior faculties, 
 on the summit of the brow—of the sentiments, on the crown of the 
 head—and the propensities behind. That, as the organs of sense 
 merely transmit impressions to the internal faculties, the discovery 
 of those faculties is a step farther in tracing the nature of that 
 wonderful essence —the mind of man. That the brain is the seat 
 of all the powers, moral and intellectual. That the faculties are 
 seated in peculiar portions of the brain, as the congeries of organs 
 or instruments by which all mental phenomena are performed. 
 That, on the state, and in proportion to the size and the activity of 
 the brain, depend the perfection, the suspension, the derangement, 
 or the annihilation of mind. That, the skull, being ductile till 
 long after the brain is formed, becoming ossified by degrees, and 
 constantly undergoing change and renovation, till a late stage of 
 life, it is consequently modified and manifested in proportion 
 to the degree of force, of energy, and of the continued action of 
 the brain; and, in the result, these operations present a form of 
 
202 
 
 Review .— Characteristics : 
 
 head consistent with the mental and moral character of the 
 individual. 
 
 Such is the system, supported, it would seem, by the evidence 
 of indisputable facts, exhibited in numerous instances, gathered 
 from all paits of the globe. The living have been scrutinized in 
 action, and the dead have been dissected. Collections have been 
 formed of the skulls of all nations. The experience of men of 
 science has testified in favour of the theory, and the reasonings of 
 many able authors have successfully supported it.” [pp. 125,126.} 
 
 . a ll this is very satisfactory and conclusive, provided 
 
 its assertions were proofs, though Mr. Maugham, who, we 
 believe, is a lawyer, must be well aware of the useful dis¬ 
 tinction, which gives to the weakest evidence a decided 
 supeiioiity over the boldest declaration, unsupported by 
 testimony or experience. In the first place, it has beeii 
 very properly objected to the new system of our nejcffi- 
 bouis, that it has taken for granted, a point on which the 
 ablest anatomists have been divided in opinion ever since 
 their science was cultivated, and will, in ail probability, 
 remain so, (for the theory is not capable of demonstration,) 
 until it shall cease to be numbered with the objects of 
 human pursuit—namely, that the organs of intellect 
 reside in the brain, and not in the nervous system, or some 
 other part of the wonderfully complicated machinery of 
 man. That it does not, can no more be proved, than that it 
 does; and in the anatomical part of the theory, this diffi¬ 
 culty stares those in the face, who bottom themselves en¬ 
 tirely upon having given to the mental faculties an exclu¬ 
 sive local habitation in the brain—that many persons have 
 ost considerable portions of that organ, and, to use a fami- 
 liar colloquial expression, have been none the worse for it 
 exhibiting, after such loss, no alteration, either in 
 
 H . U11 > vve «* n n ? ve notmng to do with consents or admis¬ 
 sions, or hvnotheses. or rmininne Tw iL_, 
 
Outlines of Character. 203 
 
 ground, the data of your theory of the mind, the very con¬ 
 cession destroys the more novel and more important part of 
 your system, that the brain is also the seat of all the moral 
 powers, or, in the words of one of Mr. Maugham’s explana¬ 
 tory notes, “of thought, of sensation, and vitality;” for by 
 the same common consent of all mankind, with still fewer 
 exceptions of the sceptical or perversely hypothetical, the 
 latter are seated in the heart. To our author, who very 
 properly settles the dispute upon the origin and diversity 
 of language with “ the scriptures have decided,” (p. 295,) 
 we may not improperly make another appeal, and ask. With 
 this consent does not the revealed will of God accord? 
 Is not its language, “ The heart of man is deceitful above 
 all things, and desperately wicked,” not the head. “ Out of 
 the heart,” not, again, the head, “ proceed all manner of evil 
 speaking, lies, murder, theft, adultery,” &c. “ I will take 
 
 away the heart of stone; a new heart will I give him,” not 
 a new brain, “ saith the Lord.” Throughout the Bible, 
 in fact, though the understanding is to be enlightened, it is 
 the heart that is to be changed; and whilst fully aware of 
 the answer likely to be made to the remark,—that this 
 language is uniformly figurative, or accommodating itself 
 to the imperfect knowledge of mankind, and therefore a 
 part is put for the whole; we in our turn must ask, w hether, 
 as the scriptures were written under the inspiration of the 
 Almighty, it is not probable that the right part would 
 have been used, when it was as easy to use it as the wrong, 
 and no end could possibly have been answered by the mis¬ 
 representation? We are not of the number of those who 
 appeal to the Bible as a book of minute scientific accuracy, 
 for such it never pretended to be, as its object was more 
 exalted than the sublimest speculations of mere human 
 learning, when directed to the perishing interests and em¬ 
 ployments, rather than the eternal destiny, of man; but 
 whilst we refer not to it, therefore, for anatomical or phy¬ 
 siological facts, nothing short of actual demonstration can 
 convince us of the inaccuracy of its language, when speak¬ 
 ing figuratively and incidentally upon the structure of the 
 creatures of His hand, by whose inspiration all scripture was 
 given for our instruction. And even admitting that the 
 uniform language of scripture, in speaking of the seat of the 
 affections, the passions, the vices, and the virtues of man¬ 
 kind, is not to be prayed in aid of any argument tending to 
 shew their real position in the human frame, we are but left 
 where we were, in that uncertainty, as to the mysterious 
 
204 
 
 Review. — Characteristics: 
 
 union of the body and the soul,—this “ vital spark of hea¬ 
 venly flame,” and the material elements which shall mingle 
 into the dust from whence they sprung, when the spirit 
 shall return to God who gave it—of materiality and imma¬ 
 teriality, corruption and incorruption—in which we were 
 left by our Creator, for this perhaps, amongst other reasons, 
 that we might not bend the imperfect knowledge, the 
 prejudices, and the pride, of finite and erring beings, to the 
 formation of systems for judging our fellow-creatures, in 
 opposition to, and derogation from, that judgment which 
 belongeth alone to our maker and our God. 
 
 After these observations, our readers will not need to be 
 informed, that we are no supporters of the new system of 
 Craniology, or Phrenology, call it which you will; nor, 
 though some of them are infinitely less objectionable, and 
 more plausible, were we ever the advocates of physiognomy, 
 palmistry, or that other ology, or istry, (whose distinctive ap¬ 
 pellation we have forgotten, if ever it had any,) which pro¬ 
 fesses to determine the character of an individual by that 
 of his hand-writing; a conclusion, by the way, which, if it 
 could be established, would be highly gratifying to some 
 of our very intimate friends, and indeed of our literary 
 associates in this journal, who would then be fairly intitled 
 at least to this distinction, that they were characters stand- 
 ing alone in the wide world, for as no one ever wrote, so 
 no one could ever be, like them. To all of these ingenious 
 speculations we have one objection, which, to our minds, 
 lias ever been conclusive as to the fallacy of their preten¬ 
 sions, namely, that if well-founded, and reduced to prac¬ 
 tice, they must be injurious to the happiness of man here, 
 and fatal to his prospects for hereafter. To this we know 
 it will be rejoined, that in our search after truth, we have 
 nothing to do with its consequences, but are bound to fol¬ 
 low wherever it may lea.d us; nor do we deny the correctness 
 of the assertion :—but life is, unfortunately, too short for the 
 attainment of all truth, men must therefore be satisfied with 
 directing their attention to that which is most essential to 
 the welfare of themselves and of their species in this world, 
 and in the world to come. Those, therefore, who wish to 
 make the best use of their time, which, with the longest 
 liver, is but too short for the acquisition of knowledge 
 really useful to its possessor, will do wisely to ask them¬ 
 selves the cui bono of every invention or pursuit presented 
 to their investigation or adoption. To this w : e, for our 
 own guidance, have long added another rule, of looking to 
 
205 
 
 Outlines of Character. 
 
 the consequences of the establishment of any new theory; 
 and if we have found that these are detrimental to the 
 best interests of our race, we have made up our minds, that 
 it cannot be worth the pains of minutely examining its 
 pretensions, as the time occupied in discovering and ex¬ 
 posing its fallacies might be much better employed, both 
 for ourselves and others. 
 
 Now, in applying these principles to Phrenology, the 
 obvious answer to its cui bono, is, that it enables us to form a 
 correct notion of the characters of men from the formation 
 of their skulls; and were its pretensions well-founded, we 
 should be furnished with a royal and easy road to the 
 attainment of that grand arcanum of legislation, the pre¬ 
 vention of crime; for, as all writers on political science 
 and jurisprudence have agreed, that prevention, and not 
 revenge, should be the object of human punishments, it 
 would be at once a justifiable and beneficial course, to 
 indict and convict men, not for murdering their fellow 
 creatures, or despoiling them of their property, but for that 
 they “ in and upon the several back parts of the several 
 heads of them, the said a. b. c. d. and e. f. severally had 
 one bump, of the length of one inch, the breadth of half an 
 inch, and the height of one-quarter of an inch, by reason of 
 which said bump, called the organ of destructiveness, they 
 the said a. b. c. d. and e. f. upon any provocation to them 
 inconsiderately offered, were severally likely to murder, or 
 attempt to murder, kill, and slay, the liege subjects of our 
 lord the king, them so offending, to the great danger of 
 all the lieges of our said lord the king, and also against his 
 peace, his crown and dignity.” Ludicrous as such a charge 
 must now appear, could the new science for measuring and 
 mapping out bumps and lumps on the head, as the only sure 
 indications of character, be once reduced to that mathema¬ 
 tical certainty, without which it is worse than useless—we 
 should seriously recommend such a system of legislation, 
 as the wisest and mildest that could be pursued. But 
 startled perhaps at the absurdity which w T ould result from 
 following out their own principles to all its consequences, 
 we question much whether the ablest and most confident 
 amongst them would venture to hire a servant upon the 
 mere conformity of the cranium with the guage and gamut 
 of his system, however uncharitably he might be disposed 
 to exercise it upon those in whom he felt no other interest, 
 than, at all risks to their characters and his own candour, 
 to make them illustrations of its truth. Yet if they do not 
 
206 
 
 lievieto. — Characteristics: 
 
 ranch more than this, their boasted discovery can be pro¬ 
 ductive of no real advantage to others or to themselves, 
 and the time bestowed upon the study of it is time com¬ 
 pletely thrown away. 
 
 But we have charged it with something infinitely worse, 
 as a reason why it should not be pursued,— i. e. a manifest 
 tendency to injure the best interests of our race, for time, 
 and for eternity. And this, if true, it must do, by barring 
 the door to all repentance and change of heart, which is not 
 evidenced by a correspondent change in the ossification of 
 the head. What Christian, but from the records of the 
 inspired volume—the express declaration of our Saviour— 
 and his own observation in the world, but believes in that 
 regeneration, or new formation of the character, (to avoid 
 all disputation about terms, we say not change of head or 
 heart,) by which the drunkard becomes sober—the lasci¬ 
 vious chaste—the violent peaceable—the thief honest—the 
 idle active—and even the miser benevolent, and the morose 
 kind. This change frequently takes place, if not instan¬ 
 taneously, very suddenly; effected, as it often is, by the 
 agency of some unexpected incident or momentary im¬ 
 pression. Is that change then, we ask Phrenologists, of 
 which the altered conduct of the man compels every one to 
 take notice, accompanied by a correspondent change in the 
 surface and protuberance of his head? If not, what be¬ 
 comes of the truth or value of their system ? Yet that it is, 
 what man in his senses can believe, or how will they under¬ 
 take to demonstrate it? They will, therefore, be compelled 
 to give the same character of the man thus singularly 
 changed, the year after his conversion, and even down to 
 the period when he shall close the witness of a good con¬ 
 fession, though it be of the chief of sinners saved by grace, 
 by a triumphant death, which they would have given of 
 him the moment before that conversion, when he was in¬ 
 dulging every wicked and sinful lust and passion of a 
 depraved and unregenerated nature. Could we jest on such 
 a subject, we would ask them, if, amongst their organs 
 indicative of character, they have one indicative of that 
 great change which divides the sinner from the saint? If 
 not, wherever the abandoned and open profligate is turned 
 from the error of his ways, their system must be worse than 
 useless, for it is deceptive, mischievous, uncharitable, and 
 false. 
 
 We have been led so far beyond our original intentions- 
 in discussing the merits of this new theory, that we shall 
 
207 
 
 Outlines of Character. 
 
 not be able to devote much space to the remaining contents 
 of this interesting volume, the perusal of which brought 
 that theory incidentally beneath our notice. In ** the 
 Orator,” we meet with several j udicious remarks on the com¬ 
 parative state of eloquence in ancient and modern times, 
 and a very satisfactory reason for its declension at the bar, 
 since the days in which Demosthenes and Cicero exhibited 
 there the noblest triumphs of the art. We give the passage 
 entire, as a specimen at once of the correctness of our 
 author’s reasoning, and the neatness of his style:— 
 
 “ The style of oratory at the Bar is characteristic of the subjects 
 on which it is exercised. It partakes of all the dryness which 
 belongs to an intricate science, and all the subtlety which attaches 
 to an abstruse art. The causes of the dearth of forensic oratory, 
 are obvious on the surface. Unlike the pleaders of antiquity, 
 those who exercise it are bound in the fetters of precedent. Instead 
 of reason, they refer to authority; and the decisions of an igno¬ 
 rant age, become a standard for that which is enlightened. Wis¬ 
 dom and virtue are supposed to be abstract , not relative , qualities; 
 and what was wise and good yesterday, must, on legislative 
 authority, be so to-day, and for ever. 
 
 “ Though all admire the display of eloquence, the forensic 
 orator, however brilliant in speech, if ignorant of the subtleties of 
 his profession, would in general remain neglected and unemployed. 
 For, after all that the man of taste may say in favour of the orna¬ 
 mental, even he, when self-interest is importantly concerned, 
 would prefer the useful and efficient. No man would relish the 
 loss of his cause, and consequently of his property, and perhaps 
 his life, for the sake of the most pathetic, the most brilliant, and 
 the most sublime oration, that was ever pronounced by the genius 
 of man. 
 
 “ We need not be surprised, therefore, that what is not required 
 or encouraged, should cease to exist. The ancient pleaders soon 
 acquired a sufficient knowledge of the few simple principles of 
 their municipal jurisprudence, and the rules of law and prac¬ 
 tice which existed in their days. The rest of their time was 
 devoted to the study of eloquence, and to all those arts with which 
 it is connected, and by which it might be advanced and adorned. 
 Not so the forensic student of modern times. The professional 
 education of a barrister, is decidedly opposed to the acquisition of 
 oratorical graces. A whole life is insufficient to master the exten¬ 
 sive range of our complicate system of jurisprudence: and, since 
 it is more important to know the law, than to descant on it eloquent¬ 
 ly, the student prefers his duty and interest, to his gratification. 
 
 « The wide extent of legal controversy denies to the practitioner, 
 m general, the leisure of studying to embellish his speeches. The 
 interest, also, of forensic avocations, is diminished, by their 
 
208 
 
 Revietv. — Characteristics, fyc. 
 
 constant recurrence. They become mere matters of common¬ 
 place ; and a legal advocate perhaps thinks no more of tropes and 
 figures, tones and gestures, than a mechanic does of the line of 
 beauty, or the standard and the principles of taste.” [pp. 
 188—191.] 
 
 There is much severity of truth in Mr. Maugham’s re¬ 
 marks on the literary character of the age, which he de¬ 
 scribes, we fear, but too correctly, as one of book-making 
 and of books, though we doubt whether he has been suffi¬ 
 ciently behind the curtain to know how the system of pub¬ 
 lishing and concocting is carried on in the'Row, as, for 
 brevity s sake, the street of bibliopolists, in which most of 
 the leading houses in the trade have their establishments, 
 is generally called. At least, it is not, as he suspects, by 
 authors either reviewing their own works, or furnishing an 
 outline of them, and selecting the passages which they think 
 most favourable for quotation; though, of other modes of 
 puffing, we doubt not there are enough in use. We are 
 more inclined, however, to agree with him in the opinion 
 which he thus gives, of the state and probable fate of litera¬ 
 ture amongst us. 
 
 The inundation of books already exceeds all useful purposes. 
 The supply will become too great for the demand; and the result 
 must be, that authors, less liberally remunerated, will cease to 
 labour. Such must ever be the case, when the article produced is 
 out of all proportion superabundant. Neither will the decline be 
 confined to the decrease of new productions. Those already 
 written will accelerate the decline in value, and the fastidiousness 
 of taste will fly from what is within the reach of the odious vulgar .” 
 [pp. 225, 226.] J 
 
 . hardly expect us, however, to extend our approba¬ 
 
 tion to the next article, intitled, “ the Periodical Critic/’ 
 on whose labours he sets but very little store. We, however, 
 naturally estimating them more highly, are determined not 
 to devote to the defence of our fraternity, any portion of 
 that time which might be more usefully directed to the dis- 
 c arge of their unpleasant, but important functions. Our 
 author is of opinion, that nothing could be more serviceable 
 to the cause of literature, “than the establishment of a 
 work, which should annually review the reviewers, re judge 
 their decisions, and constitute, as it were, a court of literary 
 appeal; a suggestion which we cordially meet with a “ Try 
 the experiment, good sir, and right heartily do we wish you 
 good speed. Commending also the entire article to the atten- 
 
209 
 
 Letters on Early Rising. 
 
 tive perusal of those who may be disposed to treat the tribe 
 to which we belong, with as little reverence as our author, 
 we in our turn take a very gentle vengeance upon him, for 
 his presumptuous attack upon reviewers in general, by 
 begging him to review his own composition, with a view to 
 correct some errors in it, which he ought to be grateful, 
 even to critics by profession, for pointing out. The following 
 sentence, for instance, requires pruning of much of its some¬ 
 what incongruous exuberance, “ Their cacoethes loquendi 
 is latent, and the hidden spring must be effectually touched, 
 ere its stream can flow to the surface, or the gathering tor¬ 
 rent pour forth its exuberance in the waters of eloquence.” 
 To the same judicious process, we would also commend 
 “ the stream of eloquence, which flowed and gathered in 
 its progress the tears of the initiated —“ touch but those 
 springs of action, those master-chords by which the human 
 lyre is moved and agitated, and we produce all those effects 
 which are the outward and visible signs of energy and 
 genius“ his soul is not attuned to the strings of sympa¬ 
 thy, and he knows but few, if any, of the notes within the 
 compass of the heart’s melody.” 
 
 On the whole, however, we have been so much pleased 
 with these Outlines, that we dismiss them with our warm 
 commendation, saying to our readers, Legite, et nobiscum 
 plaudite. 
 
 1. Letters on the Importance, Duty and Advantages, of Early 
 Rising. Addressed to Heads of Families, the Alan of Busi¬ 
 ness, the Lover of Nature, the Student, and the Christian. 
 Fourth Edition. F’cap. 8vo. pp. 210. London, 1822. 
 Taylor and Hessey. 
 
 2. Early Rising recommended; a Tract, written immediately on 
 Returning from an agreeable Morning Walk, in the Neigh¬ 
 bourhood of' London. By the Rev. Jacob Snelgar. F’cap. 
 8vo. pp. 24. London, 1822. Westley. 
 
 We regret to say, that these two publications have laid 
 upon our table, until the author of one of them has changed 
 the scene at once of his ministerial labours, and his matin 
 lucubrations ; whilst the writer of the other has passed into 
 that better world, where we doubt not that he is reaping 
 some of the fruits of the due employment of the compara¬ 
 tively short portion of time allotted to him in this the only 
 scene of preparation for the blessedness or misery of an 
 
210 
 
 Review. 
 
 eternal state. The delay has, on our parts, been unavoid¬ 
 able ; but the dawning of spring after the commencement, 
 at once of a new year, and a new series of our journal, has 
 been considered a proper period for recommending to' our 
 leaders the adoption of what we apprehend will, to many 
 of them, be a new practice, that of early rising. 
 
 The first of the treatises enforcing so salutary and bene¬ 
 ficial a habit, is the production of the late Mr. Alfred Cecil 
 Buckland, a member of the inferior branch of the legal pro¬ 
 fession, who in early life, and in the midst of his usefulness, 
 was taken from his labours to his rest, though not, we trust, 
 before much good had been effected by the dispersion of 
 four editions of a work, from which, we candidly confess, 
 that we ourselves have experienced considerable practical 
 benefit \ and therefore do we the more earnestly commend 
 it to the attentive perusal of others. 
 
 * l Should he,” says the ingenious author of letters, of which 
 he modestly and unaffectedly expresses his conviction, “ that his 
 name is not of sufficient importance to give celebrity to his work, 
 and conscious that his work will ever be too obscure to reflect 
 lustre upon his name,”—“ when mingling hereafter in society, ever 
 have the happiness to hear one parent say, in allusion to these 
 pages, «By them I was first led to improve those hours which 
 were formerly consumed in sleep, and thus I have not only been 
 able to perform with ease the duties which before were often 
 neglected, but I have also experienced the satisfaction of having 
 set a good example to my childrenShould he ever hear one 
 lover of nature observe,—* To them I am indebted for the con¬ 
 templation of scenes more lovely than I had ever beheld, and the 
 pictures which creation now unfolds to my sight are more beauti- 
 tul than those which poetic imagery once presented to my fancy’ 
 —Should he ever hear one student remark, ‘There was a time 
 when my health was impaired in the same proportion as my know¬ 
 ledge increased, but they taught me to promote at once the 
 vigour of my body, and the improvement of my mindbut espe¬ 
 cially, should he ever hear one Chi'istian declare, ‘ My devotions 
 have never been so ardent, and my faith has never been so strong 
 as in those seasons which they persuaded me to snatch from obli- 
 vi°n, —he will not consider his time mispent, or his labour ill- 
 bestowed.” [pp. ix.xi, xii.] 1 
 
 That he laboured not altogether in train, we can testify: 
 and if the new senes of our work should smell less of the 
 lamp than did the old one, to him will we gladly attribute 
 the chief merit of the change, although he ii now far 
 beyond the influence of our insignificant acknowledgments. 
 
211 
 
 Letters on Early Rising . 
 
 We have too high an opinion of the good sense of our 
 readers, to waste a moment of that time, for the improve¬ 
 ment of which we are urgent advocates, by a statement of 
 the evils of lying in bed to a late hour in the mornino- 
 where that habit is a mere indulgence. Scarcely need a 
 child be told, that the hours wasted in needless sleep, are 
 time lost, never to be recovered, yet, doubtless, to be* ac¬ 
 counted for hereafter, besides that the individual who so 
 wastes them, is encouraging a habit that will steal imper¬ 
 ceptibly upon him—-is enervating his frame—enfeebling 
 the poweis of his mind—diminishing his usefulness, and, 
 from the consciousness of laziness which all idle persons 
 feel, is souring his temper; in fact is realizing the mischiefs 
 enumerated by the author of the Letters on Early Rising 
 with a fidelity which even the pitiable victims of the indo¬ 
 lence he deservedly reprobates must acknowldge. 
 
 “ Each morning, instead of being commenced with sentiments 
 of gratitude to that kind and paternal Being who has added another 
 day to his former mercies, is accompanied with a bitter reflection 
 on his again becoming the slave of a habit which he detests, but 
 is unwilling to relinquish. A softness is thrown over the disposi¬ 
 tion, altogether inconsistent with the courage and strength which 
 the daily concerns of business require. A dissatisfaction with 
 self is pioduced, which sours the temper, and which is opposed to 
 every thing amiable and pleasing. Every object that presents 
 itself is veiled in a gloom, which invests it in a peculiar melan¬ 
 choly hue, and deprives it of the power of bestowing the pleasures 
 that it may be really calculated to afford. The mutual endear¬ 
 ments of the social circle are suspended ; and very often the brows 
 of the more aged are knit into a frown at the artless cheerfulness 
 of the young, arising from an envy of their happiness, a near re¬ 
 semblance to which might have been enjoyed by themselves. The 
 day thus commenced, cannot be expected to be spent with satis¬ 
 faction, or to be finished with self-approbation.” [pp. 25, 26.] 
 
 That lying long in bed is injurious to the constitution, 
 every medical man will tell us; and we fully agree with our 
 author in referring that long train of indescribable maladies, 
 so prevalent as well as fashionable in the times in which we 
 live,—though scarcely known in the good old days of our 
 robuster forefathers, and which, in the absence of a more 
 specific term, are ranked under the general and compas¬ 
 sionating name of nervous ,—to the inordinate portion of 
 time spent in bed. On the effect of this habit on the con¬ 
 stitution, our author judiciously gives us the following 
 high professional authority. 
 
 VOL. VIII. — no. 2. 
 
 Q 
 
212 
 
 Review. 
 
 “ Nothing,” says Dr. Cheyne, “ can be more prejudicial to ten¬ 
 der constitutions, studious and contemplative persons, than lying 
 long in bed, lolling and soaking in sheets after any one is dis¬ 
 tinctly awake, or has slept a due and reasonable time. It neces¬ 
 sarily thickens the juices, enervates the solids, and weakens the 
 constitution. A free open air is a kind of cold bath, especially 
 after rising out of a warm bed, and consequently makes the circu¬ 
 lation brisker and more complete, and braces up the solids, when 
 lying in bed dissolves and soaks them in moisture. This is evi¬ 
 dent from the appetite and hunger those that rise early feel, beyond 
 that which they get by lying long in bed.”— Essay on Health and 
 Long Life, b. iii. s. 6. [p. 61.] 
 
 Of the medical skill of Mr. Wesley, spite of his Primitive 
 Physic, we entertain a very low opinion, yet are we inclined 
 to give much weight to the experience of so observant a 
 man, who from the nervous weakness of his sight in early 
 life, and its great strength to the close of an existence as 
 actively passed, perhaps, as that of any of the sons of Adam; 
 concludes, that sleeping, or lying too long in bed, is inju¬ 
 rious to the eye-sight Would that the advice of the doc¬ 
 tor, and the experience of the divine, could induce some 
 of our nervous females, those especially whose sight is 
 affected by their disease, to try how much more their consti¬ 
 tutions would be strengthened by exertion than indulgence, 
 by early rising, than late lying in bed. We can assure them, 
 that several instances have come to our knowledge, of the 
 incalculable benefits of this very cheap substitute for anti- 
 nervous pills, hartshorn, lavender, valerian, and sal-volatile, 
 with the abundant use of which we have known headaches 
 to be incessant, which a few breathings of pure mornino 
 air have speedily removed. To our own testimony, we 
 add also a very striking one from the work now under 
 review. 
 
 “ As an instance of the good effects of the habits of early rising, 
 even upon persons afflicted with the maladies which I have sup¬ 
 posed the neglect of it to produce, I will relate to you the case of a 
 young lady who had deeply felt their baneful influence. She was re¬ 
 duced to such extreme weakness, as to require assistance in walk¬ 
 ing across the room; and imagining so enfeebled a state required a 
 larger portion of sleep, she generally lay eight or nine hours, but 
 in the morning found herself as relaxed and fatigued as at night, 
 and unable to dress without the relief of resting two or three times! 
 On reading Wesleys sermon on early rising, she was so perfectly 
 convinced of the propriety of the reasoning, that by rising gra¬ 
 dually earlier every morning, she soon lessened the time of sleep 
 to six hours; her strength daily increased, and by persevering in 
 
Letters on Early Rising. 
 
 213 
 
 this practice, together with cold bathing and moderate exercise, 
 the disorders which had so long afflicted her were removed; and 
 deeply sensible of the great mental and bodily advantage of early 
 rising, only regrets that the habit had not been formed at a much 
 earlier period of her life.” [pp. 63, 64.] 
 
 But the evils entailed by this criminal indulgence upon 
 the body, bear no proportion to the injury done to the 
 mind, that spark of immortal flame, which in the spirit shall 
 return to God who g*ave it. Few persons, if any, can snatch 
 from the ordinary avocations of life, the time they could 
 wish to devote to its improvement; but every hour and every 
 minute consumed unnecessarily in bed, is a portion of time 
 which they mightredeem for this most important purpose, and 
 for the waste of which they must answer to their own con¬ 
 science here, and hereafter must account at the bar of God. 
 This responsibility every individual incurs, even those (if 
 any such there be) whose slumbering away their time, but 
 inconveniences and affects themselves. But to parents, 
 masters, heads, and members of families, this inconveni¬ 
 ence and responsibility will be alike increased. Lazy self-in¬ 
 dulging masters and mistresses will make, and should not 
 complain of, lazy and self-indulging servants; nor can the 
 cook or housemaid of the family, where the breakfast things 
 are put on the table at nine o’clock, and wait there until 
 ten, and often to a much later hour, be scolded with a very 
 good grace, for not getting up herself at six, or even for 
 simultaneously opening her own eyes and the window- 
 shutters of the house, after the clock has struck seven. 
 Example, though a silent, is a most powerful teacher of bad 
 habits, as well as of good ones; hence, where the heads of 
 a family are late risers, the servants will seldom, if ever, be 
 early ones; and it will be as vain as it is ridiculous, to 
 preach to the nursery-maid the very admirable doctrine of 
 the great importance of early rising, and walks before break¬ 
 fast, to the health of children, while the sun has risen many 
 hours of the fairest summer mornings, whilst papa and mam¬ 
 ma are snoozing very comfortably in bed, depending altoge¬ 
 ther upon the veracity of their servants, for the time at which 
 the children were taken to their morning’s walk. Whilst 
 too young to dress themselves, these children, contrary to 
 express orders, but in accordance to the practice of their 
 parents, may therefore, and frequently will, be deprived of 
 one of the most essential requisites to the formation of a 
 robust and hardy constitution, from the criminal negligence 
 of their parents, in omitting, for their own indulgence, the 
 
214 
 
 Review. 
 
 vigilant inspection of the execution of their orders. In 
 infancy, when bracing of the frame is of the most impor¬ 
 tance, and nothing contributes to it so essentially as the 
 pure balm of the morning air, the sufferers,—from a decep¬ 
 tion as injurious as it is probable, cannot, and when they get 
 older, will not, assist in its detection; and the parents will, 
 w'e fear, in many instances, be further answerable for temp¬ 
 tations to lying, prevarication, artifice, and concealment, 
 both in their servants and their children, whose slothful 
 indulgence is, after all, very far from going the full length 
 of their own mischievous example. As the former grow up 
 into life, is it not also reasonable to expect that they will 
 do as their parents do or did, rather than as they say or 
 said, and neglect those precepts on improving time, on which 
 the practical waste of it, constantly before their eyes, is 
 louily reading so mischievous a comment. These plain 
 hints may suffice for indolent lie-a-beds, but we are fully 
 conscious of having a more difficult task to accomplish, in 
 attempting to convince another class, who fancy they have 
 a sufficient excuse, and who really have a very plausible 
 one, for taking in the morning the rest of which they de¬ 
 prive themselves at night. We allude to studious and lite- 
 ia!} men, whose first slumber often commences but as the 
 ploughman and the industrious labourer, at the dawn of 
 day, hie them to their work, whistling full cheerily as they 
 go, and who by their early toil, have added largely to then- 
 stock of health and strength, ere the pale votary of learning 
 ias with much effort roused himself from his feverish and 
 unrefreshmg sleep. Many such have we known,-with 
 
 rpJnlT ?* 11Cn r We are st ’ d livin S habits of intimacy,—but 
 ecollections of a most painful nature crowd upon our minds 
 
 as we count the number of those who are not. Whilst lit 
 
 !l Wlt r he ^ adlatl ° nS 0f fanc y and g en ius,—whilst beam- 
 g with satisfaction at the conquest of difficulties long 
 
 pamfully pursued, and at length laboriously overcome,-wf 
 saw on thmr counten^ce 8 the aspect of cheerfulness, we 
 found from their conversation that their spirits were buoy¬ 
 ant with hope, yet was there a worm preying at the heart 
 whose unobserved yet deadly gnawing fvere gradually 
 
 strueVe 1 }!^f cons ^ ltu ^® ns » the hardiest of which could 
 • ug^ie but for a few short years with an enemy the more 
 
 seern^T w . ere slovv > and were not 
 stnrlioc mued anC habitual indulgence in nocturnal 
 
 studies, was, we doubt not, the worm which preyed upon - 
 the worm which eventually destroyed their exLence Thus, 
 
215 
 
 Letters on Early Rising. 
 
 again, and again, and again, have we seen the fair vernal 
 bud, which promised a lovely flower to the summer, and as 
 rich fruit to the autumn, cut off’ and withered, not by the 
 cold frosts of winter, but by one of those deadlier blights 
 which often destroy the richest blossoms of the spring. 
 Would from what we have seen and known,—would from 
 what they themselves must at the least have read of the 
 baneful effects of this too prevalent practice,—the votaries 
 of science, happily for themselves, and for the world, who 
 no sooner learn their worth, than they are called upon to 
 deplore their loss,—would learn, that the avidity with which 
 we pursue an object, frequently prevents the success, 
 which slower, but more regular advances, seldom fail in 
 securing. Certe sed Sente, is too important a maxim, to be 
 confined to the motto of an armorial bearing, on a seal, or a 
 carriage; it should be inscribed in letters of gold, over the 
 study door of every man of genius. For want of attention 
 to so useful a memento, many a young man of talent, whilst 
 catching at the laurel, to form a wreath for his brow, has but 
 encircled in a grasp that can never be unloosed, the cypress 
 bough soon to be planted by his grave. 
 
 We are aware, that amongst the class of self-destroyers 
 to whom we are addressing ourselves, many justify the 
 means they employ, by the end they are wishing to attain. 
 We would, however, remind them, that as the sacrifice was 
 not the less sanguinary, because the victims were led to the 
 altar bedecked with garlands and flowers ; so their self- 
 destruction is not the less criminal in them, or less afflict¬ 
 ing to their friends, because it is made in the acquisition of 
 knowledge, or the gaining to themselves an imperishable 
 name. Many of them, again, we doubt not, will argue that, 
 provided you take a sufficient portion of rest, it signifies 
 not at what part of the twenty-four hours it is taken; and 
 so once thought we : nature, however, has its proper season 
 for every thing; and seed-time, and harvest-time, summer 
 and winter, cannot be more appropriately confounded with 
 each other, than in the use made of its hours, can night in¬ 
 nocuously be turned into day. It is the natural season 
 for rest; and during its darkness, its coolness, (for even 
 during the heat of summer, it is infinitely cooler than the 
 day,) and its quiet, sleep is more refreshing than it can be at 
 any other time. We have known those who, at two or three 
 and twenty, had for some years been in the habit of sitting 
 up every alternate night, at the least to one, two, three, 
 four, five, and even six o’clock in the morning, and one 
 
216 
 
 Review. 
 
 who even had sat at his desk for seventy-two hours, with 
 the intermission of six hours’ repose; but at three-and- 
 thirty, headaches, swimmings in the head, unrefreshing 
 sleep, disturbed by the buzz of countless noises in their ears, 
 had taught them wisdom ere it was too late, and they now 
 rise at the period when they not unfrequently went to rest. 
 
 Other reasons in favour of morning, rather than of noc¬ 
 turnal studies, are ably urged in Mr. Buckland’s invaluable 
 little book,—in the cheerfulness of disposition generally 
 experienced then, ere the temper has been ruffled by the 
 business and anxieties of the day, and the extraordinary 
 power of the memory at that period, which every school¬ 
 boy, who has conned over his task soon after rising from 
 his bed, can well attest. 
 
 But example is judiciously quoted, to enforce these whole¬ 
 some precepts, and we shall extract them for the benefit of 
 our readers, in the author’s words. 
 
 “ Bishop Burnet, the author of ‘ The History of his Own Times,’ 
 was an habitual early riser. Whilst he was at college, his father 
 used to arouse him to his studies every morning at four o’clock, 
 and he continued the practice during the remainder of his life. It 
 is to this habit that we are indebted to Dr. Doddridge for nearly 
 the whole of his valuable works, who, notwithstanding his 
 various labours, both as a minister and a tutor, has left us many 
 proofs of his talents as an author.* Bishop Jewell regularly rose 
 to study at four. Sir Thomas More usually rose at the same 
 early hour, and yet he remarks, in his preface to the Utopia, that 
 he had completed that work by stealing time from his sleep and his 
 meals; and he appeared to be so well satisfied of the excellence of 
 the habit, that he represents the Utopians as attending public lec¬ 
 tures every morning before day-break. 
 
 “Dr. Parkhurst, the philologist, rose regularly at five in summer 
 and winter, and in the latter season made his own fire. It is re¬ 
 corded of John, Lord Hervey, that ‘in those early hours, when all 
 around were hushed in sleep, he seized the opportunity of that 
 quiet, as the most favourable season for study, and frequently 
 spent an useful day, before others began to enjoy it.’f 
 
 “ Do you not remember Paley’s account of the early part of his 
 college life ? ‘ I spent,’ said he, when conversing with some of his 
 friends, * I spent the first two years of my under-graduateship hap¬ 
 pily, but unprofitably. I was constantly in society, where we 
 were not immoral, but idle and rather expensive. At the com¬ 
 mencement of my third year, however, after having left the usual 
 
 ] S . Ex P os *tor. Note to Remarks, Rom. xiii. 13. 
 
 t Middleton s Dedication to the Life of Cicero. 
 
217 
 
 betters on Early Rising. 
 
 party at rather a late hour in the evening, I was awakened at five 
 in the morning by one of my companions, who stood at my 
 bed-side, and said,—‘ Paley, I have been thinking what a fool you 
 are. I could do nothing probably, if I were to try, and can afford 
 the life I lead: you could do every thing, and cannot afford it. 
 
 I have had no sleep during the whole night on account of these 
 reflections, and am now come solemnly to inform you, that if you 
 persist in your indolence, I must renounce your society.’ ‘ I was 
 so struck,’ Dr. Paley continued, ‘ with the visit and the visitor, 
 that I lay in bed great part of the day, and formed my plan. I 
 ordered my bed-maker to lay my fire every evening, in order that 
 it might be lighted by myself. I arose at Jive, read during the 
 whole of the day, except such hours as chapel and hall required, 
 allotting to each portion of time its peculiar branch of study; and 
 just before the closing of the gates (nine oclock) 1 went to a 
 neighbouring coffee-house, where I constantly regaled upon a mut¬ 
 ton chop, and a dose of milk punch, and then, on taking my bache¬ 
 lor’s degree, I became senior wrangler.’* 
 
 “ I might refer you to the opinions and practice of the famous 
 Franklin, and Priestley, and many others; but you will, perhaps, 
 prefer an example taken from one in your own profession. Sir 
 Matthew Hale, that great and learned lawyer, and pious Chris¬ 
 tian, whilst at Lincoln’s Inn, preparing himself for the bar, studied 
 sixteen hours in the day, rising very early every morning,” [pp. 
 125 - 128 .] 
 
 To these, the names of John Wesley, and several other 
 lights of the world, and benefactors of mankind, might be 
 added ; but we shall satisfy ourselves with the mention of 
 Howard the philanthropist, who was seldom in bed after 
 four in the morning. But greater examples than that of even 
 Howard, though he perhaps was the most illustrious imita¬ 
 tor of his divine Master, in going about doing good, that 
 the records of the world exhibit since the apostolic age, 
 are thus enumerated, for the imitation of the Christian, in 
 the pages now under our review. 
 
 “ Abraham * got up early in the morning.’f Isaac ‘rose up 
 betimes in the morning.’! Jacob ‘ rose up early in the morning. $ 
 Laban * rose up early in the moming.’|| Moses rose up early in 
 the morning.’lf Job rose up early in the morning, and ‘ thus did 
 he continually.’** Gideon ‘rose up early in the morning.’ff 
 Joshua ‘ rose early in the morning.’,ft Samuel ‘ rose early to 
 
 * Meadley’s Memoirs of Dr. Paley, p. 194, 5. 
 
 t Gen. xix. 27.; xxi. 14. ; xxii. 3. t Gen. xxvi. 31. 
 
 & Gen. xxviii. 18. || Gen. xxxi. 55. IT Exod. xxiv. 4.; xxxiv. 4. 
 
 ** Job i. 5. tt Judges vi. 28, 38. 
 
 H Joshua iii. 1.; vi. 12.; vii. 16.; vui. 10. 
 
218 
 
 Review. 
 
 meet Saul in the morning.'* David * rose up early in the morn- 
 ing.’f Jeremiah continued in the habit of ‘ rising early and 
 speaking’ for twenty-three years. X Nehemiah and his fellow- 
 labourers ‘ laboured from the rising of the morning till the stars 
 appeared.’§ And our blessed Saviour is represented as having 
 risen early, affording a practical illustration of his own precept, 
 ‘ work whilst it is day.' It was ‘ at the break of day that he call¬ 
 ed to him his disciples, and chose of them twelve, whom he call¬ 
 ed apostles.’H It was * early in the morning that the people came 
 to him in the temple to hear him.’ll It was * early in the morning 
 that Jesus came into the temple, and all the people came unto 
 him :’** and it was ‘ in the morning, a great while before day, 
 that he went out to a solitary place to pray.’ ”JJ [pp. 168 - 9 .] 
 
 To the Christian, however, we surely need not say any 
 thing on the sin of sloth, or the duty of improving to the 
 utmost the short portion of time allotted for preparation 
 for another, and an eternal state of existence. If, however, 
 any arguments are necessary to prove the importance of 
 early rising to those who profess “ to work while it is 
 called day,” because “ the night cometh wherein no man 
 can work,” they cannot be furnished with more cogent or 
 convincing ones than are contained in the four last 
 of the letters of Mr. Buckland, and in the very sensible 
 little pamphlet of Mr. Snelgar, which, in the form of a 
 tract, is a short but very judicious sermon on Psalm lxiii. 1. 
 “ Early will I seek thee ;” in which the author very satisfac¬ 
 torily shews that there is a pleasure to be enjoyed in early 
 rising, because it is refreshing to the body, cheering to 
 the spirits, and an agreeable preparation for every succeed¬ 
 ing event of the day. The design of the practice recom¬ 
 mended from the example of David, is then stated as for 
 purposes of piety; because of the serenity of the morning; 
 and on account of the importance of religion: to which suc¬ 
 ceeds a brief statement of the advantages resulting from 
 early risiug—from its improving our temporal prosperity— 
 advancing our spiritual welfare—being our best preparation 
 for the public worship of God—indicative of personal 
 religion,—and a good course, productive of the best ter¬ 
 mination. 
 
 With such motives before them as have been stated in 
 the course of this article, who that regards his best interests, 
 
 * 1 Sam. ix. 26.; xv. 12. 
 
 t 1 Sam. xvii. 20. Psalms v. 3.; Iv. 17.; lix. 16.; lxxxviii. 13.; 
 xou. 1,2.; cxix. 147.; cxliii. 8. \ Jer. xxv. 3.; vii. 13. 
 
 § Neh.iv.21. || Luke vi. 13. If Luke xxi. 38. 
 
 *•* John viii. 2. Mark i. 35. 
 
The Modern Traveller. 
 
 219 
 
 for time and for eternity, but would wish to put the earnest 
 recommendations of these two very useful writers into im¬ 
 mediate practice. But how is this to be done, we may be 
 asked, where a long course of indulgence, either in noc¬ 
 turnal studies or morning sluggishness, has engendered a 
 habit of lying in bed, difficult, and, as those who have given 
 way to it will think, impossible to overcome. The author 
 of the Letters on Early Rising shall answer the question. 
 
 “ You must conquer by degrees. Rise five minutes earlier every 
 morning, till you have arrived at the hour which appears to you 
 most eligible. You will thus accomplish the work which you are 
 so anxious to effect. The daily subtraction from sleep will be so 
 trifling, that it will not occasion that drowsiness on the succeeding 
 morning, which the sudden change from rising at eight to five 
 must necessarily produce. You will thus reach the object of 
 your wishes, in the surest and easiest manner. You will be daily 
 undermining a very injurious habit, and confirming a very useful 
 one. A short period will make such a sensible difference in the 
 time you have gained, that you will begin to feel the pleasure of 
 victory, before you are scarcely conscious of having commenced 
 the combat. The last day in each week will be half an hour lon¬ 
 ger than the first, and at the termination of a month you will 
 become an early riser, with the additional advantage of having 
 formed the habit in such a manner that there is little danger ot its 
 being relinquished.” [pp. 137-8.] 
 
 On the merits of this plan, we simply add our probatum 
 est, and, having done so, unequivocally commend the work 
 whence this excellent recipe for the cure of laziness is 
 extracted, together with its humble, but still very useful 
 and cheap companion, to the attentive perusal and delibe¬ 
 rate consideration of our readers. Ere we close our re¬ 
 marks, we would just hint, however, to Mr. Snelgar, in the 
 the hope that his very useful little tract will soon go into 
 another edition, that the braying of the ass might, we 
 should think, be omitted, without injury to the thousand 
 pleasing associations which gave to his early morning 
 walks that peculiar and inexpressible interest, which we 
 hope he will long continue to enjoy himself, whilst, through 
 the press, he is the very useful instrument in imparting it 
 to others. _ 
 
 The Modern Traveller. Palestine. Part I. 18mo. Lon¬ 
 don, 1824. Duncan, pp. 180. 
 
 Few books are, perhaps, more generally interesting than 
 voyages and travels; and no period of our literature has 
 
220 
 
 Review . 
 
 been more productive of this species of rational and general 
 entertainment than the present. Scientific, enterprising, 
 and intelligent men, have visited every quarter of the 
 globe; and the researches of such well-qualified tourists 
 as Pallas, Clarke, Dodwell, Eustace, and Hughes, in Eu¬ 
 rope; Morier, Elphinstone, Buchanan, Fraser, Pottinger, 
 Gore Ousely, Kinneir, and Porter, in Asia; Belzoni, Lord 
 Valentia, Burckhardt, Richardson, Joliffe, Denon, and 
 Chateaubriand, in Egypt and the adjacent countries; Lewis, 
 and Clarke, Pike, James, Franklin, and Humboldt, in Ame¬ 
 rica,—have furnished the most extensive and important ad¬ 
 ditions to our geographical knowledge, to which also the 
 labours of our missionaries, though devoted to much higher 
 objects, have incidentally contributed no small share of 
 curious and valuable information. But, alas, the know¬ 
 ledge of foreign climes, which most people feel a great 
 and laudable curiosity to obtain, is procurable but by very 
 few; as, of all books, (law-books perhaps alone excepted,) 
 voyages and travels are the most costly, and consequently 
 the most unattainable by the ordinary class of readers. To 
 remedy this inconvenience, various plans have been hit 
 upon, but hitherto without any very distinguished success. 
 In the year 1800, Dr. Mavor published an abridgment of 
 the most popular voyages and travels then extant, in twenty- 
 eight volumes, in 18mo.; but at least fifty others, upon the 
 same plan, would be requisite to bring down the collection 
 to the present time. Pinkerton’s more formidable and 
 very heavy work, in seventeen quarto volumes, is also 
 very considerably in arrear; and to make it complete, it 
 would be placed still further beyond the reach of those for 
 whose use such collections are most requisite, and that is 
 altogether needless. 
 
 But independent of such well-founded objections to the 
 bulk and expense of these collections, we have long been of 
 opinion, that something more than the mere work of abridg¬ 
 ment was necessary to give those, who have not the leisure 
 or the means of consulting the multiplicity of ponderous 
 and expensive quarto voyages, travels, and tours, which are 
 constantly appearing in rapid succession, the means of 
 knowing what discoveries are making in the world. We 
 had therefore formed, in our own minds, a plan for a con¬ 
 densation of the most generally interesting and valuable 
 intelligence, contained in these volumes, in the form of a 
 regular narrative, though, as we are never likely to have 
 leisure for carrying it into execution, we are very happy to 
 
The Modern Traveller. 
 
 221 
 
 find, that a similar scheme has suggested itself to others, 
 and that it is now in progress in such a style of excellence, 
 literary and topographical, as to render any other attempt 
 worse than superfluous. One principal ground of our 
 objection to the existing collections of voyages and travels, 
 is, that in mere abridgments of the narratives of travellers, 
 who have taken the same route, and described the same 
 scenery, repetition is inevitable; and conflicting accounts of 
 the same things are repeatedly given, without any directions 
 to the reader as to which is worthy of preference, or how 
 far their discrepances may be reconciled or accounted for. 
 To obviate these difficulties, the present work proposes to 
 give a complete description of the different countries, form¬ 
 ing an accurate and sufficiently minute cosmoramic view of 
 their present actual state. This object is effected partly 
 by adopting the details given by travellers, who have visited 
 the different places, in their own language, and very fre¬ 
 quently by a combination of their various accounts in the 
 language of the editor; to whom, though we have not the 
 slightest conception of who or what he is, this commenda¬ 
 tion at the least is due, that he has executed his task with 
 great accuracy and judgment. But of this, we will enable 
 our readers to form an opinion for themselves, by extracting 
 a part of that account of Jerusalem, which, with its envi¬ 
 rons, occupies upwards of one hundred pages of the present 
 portion of this most interesting work :— 
 
 « The Jerusalem of sacred history is, in fact, no more. Not 
 a vestige remains of the capital of David and Solomon; not a 
 monument of Jewish times is standing. The very course of the 
 walls is changed, and the boundaries of the ancient city are 
 become doubtful. The monks pretend to shew the sites of the 
 sacred places; but neither Calvary, nor the Holy Sepulchre, much 
 less the Dolorous Way, the house of Caiaphas, &c., have the 
 slightest pretensions to even a probable identity with the real 
 places to which the tradition refers. Dr. Clarke has the merit of 
 being the first modern traveller who ventured to speak of the pre¬ 
 posterous legends and clumsy forgeries of the priests, with the 
 contempt which they merit. * To men interested in tracing, within 
 the walls, antiquities referred to by the documents of sacred his¬ 
 tory, no spectacle,’ remarks the learned traveller, ‘ can be more 
 mortifying than the city in its present state. The mistaken piety 
 of the early Christians, in attempting to preserve, has either con¬ 
 fused or annihilated the memorials it was anxious to render con¬ 
 spicuous. Viewing the havoc thus made, it may now be regretted 
 that the Holy Land was ever rescued from the dominion of Sara¬ 
 cens, who were far less barbarous than their conquerors. The 
 
222 
 
 Review. 
 
 absurdity, for example, of hewing the rocks of Judea into shrines 
 and chapels, and of disguising the face of nature with painted 
 domes, and gilded marble coverings, by way of commemorating 
 the scenes of our Saviour’s life and death, is so evident and so 
 lamentable, that even Sandys, with all his credulity, could not 
 avoid a happy application of the reproof conveyed by the Roman 
 satirist, against a similar violation of the Egerian fountain/ 
 
 “ Dr. Clarke, however, though he discovers his sound judgment 
 in these remarks, has contributed very little to the illustration of 
 the topography of Jerusalem. His plan is extremely inaccurate, 
 and his hypothesis respecting the site of the ancient Zion alto¬ 
 gether baseless. It is quite evident that he trusted to his recol¬ 
 lection in drawing up the account of Jerusalem, and that his 
 memory has misled him. By far the best account which has 
 been given of the sacred city, is that furnished by Dr Richardson, 
 who, by virtue of his professional character as a physician,—a 
 character esteemed sacred all over the east,—was permitted four 
 times to enter, in company with some of the principal Turks in Jeru¬ 
 salem, the sacred enclosure of the Stoa Sakhara, the mosque of 
 Omar. With the exception of Ali Bey, who passed for a Moslem, 
 though really a Spaniard, Dr. R. is the only Frank whose feet 
 have trodden the consecrated ground with impunity, since the 
 days of the Crusades. A Jew or a Christian entering within its 
 precincts, must, if discovered, forfeit either his religion or his life. 
 Sir F. Henniker states, that a few days before he visited Jerusalem, 
 a Greek Christian entered the mosque. ‘ He was a Turkish sub¬ 
 ject, and servant to a Turk: he was invited to change his religion, 
 but refused, and was immediately murdered by the mob. ^His* 
 body remained exposed in the street; and a passing Mussulman, 
 kicking up the head, exclaimed, ‘ That is the way I would serve all 
 Christians/” [pp. 75—77.] 
 
 Designed, and very properly so, rather for a popular and 
 useful, than a scientific compilation, it is intended to admit 
 into this work authentic anecdotes, serving to illustrate 
 national character, and other details of amusing, whilst they 
 are also of an instructive nature ; though every attention is 
 at the same time to be paid to topographical accuracy, and 
 to an object, which we regret to say that there is much rea¬ 
 son for never overlooking,—the rectifying those mistakes, 
 which are to be found in great abundance, and sufficient 
 grossnesss, in the most popular of our geographical works. 
 Brief historical notices will also be prefixed to the descrip¬ 
 tion of every country, including its ancient geography, its 
 supposed aborigines, and the principal revolutions of which 
 it has been the theatre, whilst, with respect to the uncivilized 
 poitions of the habitable globe, this sketch will exhibit also 
 the progress of discovery. In every case, the natural his- 
 
The Modern Traveller. 
 
 223 
 
 tory, botany, geological features, volcanic phenomena, and 
 other natural curiosities of the country, will, as far as 
 possible, be fully described; together with the costume, 
 physiognomy, and domestic habits of the natives; their 
 traditions, religion, and literature; their public buildings, 
 arts, and ancient monuments : in fact, all the multifarious 
 information for which we are indebted to the indefatigable 
 researches of modern travellers. 
 
 In the execution of this most judicious and comprehen¬ 
 sive plan, biographical sketches of individuals who have, 
 by remarkable actions, identified themselves with the his¬ 
 tory of the portions of the globe described, should not of 
 course be omitted ; and we doubt not, from the following 
 brief, yet accurate notice of Djezzar Pasha, the remorseless 
 tyrant of Acre, that this part of the work will receive a due 
 portion of the editor’s attention:— 
 
 “ Dr. E. D. Clarke, who visited Palestine in the summer of 
 1801, landed at Acre, then under the dominion of the notorious 
 Djezzar Pasha—an appellation explained by himself as signifying 
 the butcher. This execrable tyrant, whose name carried terror 
 with it over all the Holy Land, at one time, shut up in his fortress 
 at Acre, defied the whole power of Turkey, deriding the menaces 
 of the Capudan Pasha, though he affected to venerate the 
 authority of the sultan. His real name was Achmed. He was 
 a native of Bosnia, and spoke the Sclavonian language better than 
 any other. At an early period of his life, he sold himself to a 
 slave-merchant in Constantinople, and being purchased by Ali 
 Bey in Egypt, rose from the humble situation of a Mameluke slave 
 to be governor of Cairo. In this situation, according to his own 
 account given to Dr. Clarke, he distinguished himself by the most 
 rigorous administration of justice ; realizing the stories related of 
 Oriental caliphs, by mingling in disguise with the inhabitants of 
 the city, and thus making himself master of all that was said con¬ 
 cerning himself, or transacted by his officers. So far back as 1784, 
 when M. Volney visited the Holy Land, he was pasha of Siede 
 (Sidon) and Acre.* At that time, his cavalry amounted to 900 
 Bosnian and Anaut horsemen; by sea, he had a frigate, two galiots, 
 and a zebeck; and his revenue amounted to £400,000. At the 
 time of Dr. Clarke’s arrival, he was upwards of sixty years of age, 
 and vain of the vigour which he still retained. Of forty-three 
 pashas of three tails then living in the Turkish empire, he was, by 
 
 * Dr. Clarke says: “ He has been improperly considered as pasha 
 of Acre : his real pashalic was that of Seide, but at the time of our 
 arrival, he was also lord of Damascus, Berytus, Tyre, and Sidon.” 
 Burckhardt, however, represents the pashalic of Siede to be the 
 same as that of Akka. 
 
224 
 
 Review. 
 
 his own account, the senior. * We found him,’ says Dr. Clarke, 
 ‘ seated on a mat, in a little chamber destitute of the meanest arti¬ 
 cle of furniture, excepting a coarse, porous, earthenware vessel for 
 cooling the water he occasionally drank. He was surrounded by 
 persons maimed and disfigured,’ some without a nose, others with¬ 
 out an arm, with one ear only, or one eye; marked men , as he 
 termed them—persons bearing signs of their having been instructed 
 to serve their master with fidelity. ‘ He scarcely looked up to 
 notice our entrance, but continued his employment of drawing 
 upon the floor, for one of his engineers, a plan of some works he 
 was then constructing. His form was athletic, and his long white 
 beard entirely covered his breast. His habit was that of a com¬ 
 mon Arab, plain, but clean, consisting of a white camlet over a 
 cotten cassock. His turban was also white. Neither cushion nor 
 carpet decorated the naked boards of his divan. In his girdle he 
 wore a poniard set with diamonds; but this he apologized for exhi¬ 
 biting, saying it was his badge of office as governor of Acre, and 
 therefore could not be laid aside. Having ended his orders to 
 the engineer, we were directed to sit upon the end of the divan; 
 and Signor Bertocino, his dragoman, kneeling by his side, he pre¬ 
 pared to hear the cause of our visit.' ”* [pp. 18—20.] 
 
 “ Djezzar was the Herod of his day. At one period, having 
 reason to suspect the fidelity of his wives, he put seven of them to 
 death with his own hands. No person in Acre knew the number 
 of his women, but from the circumstance of a certain number of 
 covers being daily placed in a kind of wheel, or turning cylinder, 
 so contrived as to convey dishes to the interior, without any pos¬ 
 sibility of observing the person who received them. If any of them 
 died, the event was kept as secret as when he massacred them 
 with his own hands. In his public works he aimed at magnificence. 
 He built the mosque, the bazar, and and an elegant public fountain 
 at Acre, using the extensive remains of Cesarea as a quarry. In 
 all these works he was himself both the engineer and the architect, 
 he formed the plans, drew the designs, and superintended the 
 execution. He was his own minister, chancellor, treasurer, and 
 secretary; often his own cook and gardener; and not unfrequently 
 both judge and executioner in the same instant. Such is the account 
 given of this extraordinary man by Baron de Tott, Volney, and Dr. 
 Clarke. Yet with the short-sighted and narrow-minded policy of 
 an Oriental despot, he sacrificed to his avarice the permanent 
 prosperity of the districts which he governed. During the latter 
 years of his administration, more especially, towns that had once 
 been flourishing, were reduced by his oppression to a few cottages, 
 and luxuriant plains were abandoned to the wandering Arabs.” 
 [PP- 20, 21.] 
 
 Such is the outline of the undertaking, with which we 
 are so much delighted, that we have not lost a moment in 
 * Travels in various Countries, part ii. ^ i. chap 3. 
 
The Modern Traveller. 225 
 
 commending it to the notice and cordial support of our 
 readers. 
 
 Palestine has very properly been selected as the first 
 country to be noticed; and when we inform our readers, 
 that in the present part of the Modern Traveller, and that 
 which will be published on the same day with our journal, 
 —supposing it executed with equal spirit and fidelity as 
 his specimen, as we have no reason to doubt that it will be,— 
 they will have an account of the Holy Land, comprising all 
 that is most curious, and generally interesting, in the tra¬ 
 vels of Maundrell, Pococke, Sandys, Hasselquist, Volney, 
 Brown, Dr. Clarke, the pseudo Ali Bey, Chateaubriand, 
 Burckhardt, JolifFe, Dr. Richardson, Buckingham, Irby 
 Mangles, Sir F. Henniker, and others, through this most 
 attractive region of the earth, at least in a Christian’s eye, 
 in a neat pocket volume, of between three and four hundred 
 closely printed pages, at the low price of five shillings, we 
 feel assured, that they will soon enable themselves to judge 
 of the justice of our encomiums, which, though somewhat 
 warmer perhaps than is our wont, have been excited by the 
 uncommon merits of what we consider a bijoux in the lite¬ 
 rary world. Yet warm as that commendation has been, 
 and as we intended that it should be, it would be a gross 
 injustice to close this review without noticing, in terms of 
 the highest praise, the very superior merit of the typogra¬ 
 phical 0 department of this work, which is from the very 
 accurate press of Mr. Moyes, and in a style of neatness 
 which we have seldom seen surpassed, even in the most 
 expensive works. It is also illustrated by a very well 
 executed view of Jerusalem, and a small but accurate map 
 of Palestine, embellishments which we are happy to learn 
 that it is the intention of the publisher to continue through¬ 
 out the series, at the rate of a plate at the least to every 
 part, and occasionally of more. 
 
 To the continuation of the series, we shall hereafter 
 direct the attention of our readers, satisfied as we are, that 
 if executed with the taste and spirit which has marked its 
 commencement, it will be decidedly the best and most 
 useful of those cabinet and pocket compilations, on which 
 so much attention has been bestowed of late years by the 
 booksellers, and so large a portion of patronage by the 
 public. If, in that patronage, the Modern Traveller, so 
 lon<r as it is conducted as it is begun, does not very 
 largely participate, the fault will be with the public, upon 
 whose taste we shall consider the neglect of its very supe¬ 
 rior claims no light imputation. 
 
226 
 
 Review. 
 
 A Letter to the Editor of the British Review, occasioned by 
 the Notice of “ No Fiction ,” and “ Martha,” in the last 
 Number of that Work. By Andrew Reed. 8vo. Lon¬ 
 don, 1824. Westley. pp. 80. 
 
 In our early attention to this Pamphlet, it is by no means 
 our purpose to enter into the merits of the case between 
 the author and our brethren of the British Review, the 
 latter of whom we leave to fight their own battles, as we 
 doubt not that they are quite able to do, though we say not 
 with what success against an antagonist like Mr. Reed, 
 who has advanced very serious charges of misrepresenta¬ 
 tion and prejudice against them, supported by evidence, 
 which, to say the least of it, makes out a very strong prima 
 facie case on his behalf. Nor shall we touch upon that 
 part of his address which relates to the second of his publi¬ 
 cations, as we have not yet had leisure to notice “ Martha,” 
 although we hope it will not long lay amongst the heap of 
 neglected books, which have for some time, though un¬ 
 avoidably, accumulated on our table. But we do think i? 
 due, in justice to Mr. Reed, to our readers, and to ourselves, 
 not to defer to a more convenient opportunity, an exami¬ 
 nation of the charges which have long been in general cir¬ 
 culation against him, for the publication of “No Fiction,” 
 a work which appearing anonymously at first, was very pro¬ 
 perly avowed by its author, the moment that avowal 
 seemed likely to involve him in danger and difficulty. 
 Those charges have been divided with sufficient accuracy 
 for our purpose, into the following heads :—1st. That the 
 credulity of the public has been imposed upon ; 2dly. That 
 Mr. Barnett, (the hero of the tale) has been injured; and 
 3dly. That the author has sought to eulogize himself and 
 family. 
 
 The first of the charges imputes to Mr. Reed, the imposi¬ 
 tion upon the public, as a “narrative founded on recent 
 and interesting facts ;” of a collection of fictions, and gross 
 distortions, and exaggerations, for which there was but 
 slender foundation in the real occurrences, whence its 
 author professed to draw his materials. To this Mr. Reed 
 opposes the following statement, on the correctness of 
 which, as well from our knowledge of his character, as the 
 acquaintance we have elsewhere obtained, with the princi¬ 
 pal facts to which he appeals, we place the firmest reliance. 
 
 “ It is true, that the acquaintance between Lefevre and Douglas 
 began as is described. It is true, that their friendship was car- 
 
Reed's Letter to the Editor of the British Review. 227 
 
 ried forward by means and incidents similar to those introduced. 
 It is true, that they made an excursion to a distant part ol the 
 country on a visit to Mrs. Lefevre, who was what she is repre¬ 
 sented to be. It is true, that Lefevre held a place in an office in 
 London, and resided with Mr. and Mrs. Russell; and that he was 
 happy while he continued in the paths of usefulness and religion. 
 It is true, that he and Douglas separated; and that afterwards he 
 began to decline from his former pursuits and pleasures. It is 
 true, that the Russells and Douglases often remonstrated as they 
 are represented; and that the correspondence from Plymouth on 
 an alleged ‘ impropriety’ really existed. It is true, that Lefevre 
 contended with many resolves to retrace his steps, but that 
 he overcame them, forsook his religious connexions, and was gra¬ 
 dually drawn into the paths of worldly pleasure. It is true, that 
 he became entangled in debt; the conversation on this subject is 
 almost literally given: and it is true, though he never knew it, 
 that Douglas became bound, in word and honour, for the largest 
 amount he ever owed. It is true, that Lefevre left the Russells 
 similarly to the way described, and very much for the reasons 
 given. It is true, that he formed an attachment, that it had a 
 beneficial influence on his mind and conduct, and that he sought 
 his friend Douglas, and made him acquainted with his prospects. 
 It is true, that when Douglas was expecting to hear of his settle¬ 
 ment, and to see its good effects, he was aroused at midnight to 
 receive Lefevre in the state describedI; that he voluntarily con¬ 
 fessed, that what he had formerly denied was actually true; that 
 he had been subject to rebuke in one office, that his accounts had 
 been unexpectedly called for elsewhere, and he was not then 
 prepared to render them; and that the connexion to which he had 
 been looking, was broken off for ever. It is true, that Douglas 
 did every thing to tranquillize him; and in the morning awakened 
 him, and induced him to say he would return to his duties; 
 but that he went home, and remained in a similar state of mind 
 for some time. It is true, that he eloped from his friends; ram¬ 
 bled in a state of mental desperation in the environs of Rochester, 
 was advertised, and at last found, and brought home by Mr. 
 Perry. It is true, that his mother and Douglas found him as 
 described, that he remained in this state till he again forsook his 
 home, and was not heard of, after the most anxious inquiry. It 
 is true, that he wandered far away, enlisted in the army, and went 
 over to Canada; that he became the subject of reflection; that he 
 fell in with an excellent missionary, who was of great use to him, 
 and that he wrote home to his friends penitential and pleasing 
 letters. It is true, that his relative procured his discharge, that 
 he returned home, and though differently received by his different 
 friends, he was joyfully received by them all. It is true, that 
 Wilson was influenced by Lefevre’s example, and that his state of 
 mind, in his last affliction, was similar to what is given. 
 
 VOL. VIII.—no. 2. R 
 
228 
 
 Review. —Reed’s Letter to the 
 
 “ Much, very much besides what this hasty sketch includes, is 
 equally true. The letters and conversations, though not literally 
 rendered, are, with few exceptions, substantially true; while the con¬ 
 tents of a letter have sometimes been thrown into a dialogue, and 
 the body of many conversations reduced to a letter. The spirit is 
 generally true, where the form of representation is most affected 
 by variety. Even the sketches from nature are mostly from 
 memory; and those few parts of the work, which are of the nature 
 of episode, are commonly real incidents, though first founded in 
 union with other circumstances.” [pp. 13—16. j 
 
 To every candid mind, this statement must present an 
 abundantly sufficient refutation of the charge of imposi¬ 
 tion on the public credulity, though it does not by any 
 means free its author from the more tenable, and more im¬ 
 portant ones, of improperly publishing facts relating to 
 another, which he ought not in prudence or delicacy to 
 have so used; and that is the charge to which, in our notice 
 of his work,* we distinctly alluded, as a very serious one, 
 extending even to the honour and honesty of the author, 
 though in favour of them, we then decided, on the strength 
 of the assurance contained in his advertisement to the third 
 edition of this work, that the true key to it “ was then in 
 his possession—that it had never been in the power of any 
 other person—and that it never should be, while the existing 
 reasons continued for withholding it.” A more minute 
 statement of those facts is now published, and we are 
 therefore anxious to review a judgment pronounced upon 
 partial evidence, which we are now fully in possession of 
 the means of confirming, modifying, or reversing, as full 
 and authentic admissions and testimony upon the subject, 
 may call upon us to do. 
 
 It now stands admitted on all hands, that Lefevre, the 
 hero of “ No Fiction,” is Mr. Barnett, once an intimate friend 
 of Mr. Reed, who performed towards him, in its general 
 outline, the kind part attributed, in the narrative, to Doug¬ 
 las; that between them the correspondence inserted in, or 
 interwoven with, the work, substantially took place, though 
 the letteis aie not exactly copied, or always used even in- 
 the epistolary formthat the work was published without 
 Mr. Barnett s consent, or any application to him for it, 
 though substantially containing the chief incidents of his 
 eventful history, and his correspondence with the author, 
 who believed him at that time to be residing within two 
 hundred miles from him. Now, upon this plain statement of 
 
 Vol. ii. p. 359. 
 
229 
 
 Editor of the British Revieiv. 
 
 admitted facts, we should apprehend, that not even the 
 most prejudiced friend of Mr. Reed can conscientiously 
 acquit him of indelicacy and imprudence. 
 
 To these charges he pleads, 1st, that the narrative, 
 though unquestionably founded on facts, and substantially 
 true in all its principal details, was purposely so altered in 
 dates, places, and minor connecting circumstances, as to 
 secure his design of concealing from the public the real 
 hero of the piece. That he intended this course to pro¬ 
 duce the effect he states, we do not for a moment doubt; 
 y e t f _ w here some of the leading facts must have been known 
 to many besides himself, being of public notoriety in the circle 
 in which the then friendly, but now contending parties, 
 moved,—how he could so deceive himself as to believe he 
 should succeed in his object, is to us a matter of unfeigned 
 astonishment. Nor could he long remain in so unaccount¬ 
 able a delusion, as the book had scarcely issued from the 
 press, ere the key to its interpretation was furnished 
 to every one who associated with the religious part of the 
 population of the metropolis, whence it spread in a very 
 short time to the same class of persons in the larger towns 
 of the kingdom. To this natural, yet, as the author assures 
 us, to hircf most unlooked-for event, many circumstances, 
 speedily to be noticed, contributed ; though the one just 
 stated would, in our estimation, have been quite enough to 
 produce it, in a degree sufficiently injurious alike to the 
 author and his hero. 
 
 The second plea upon the record is, that before he deter¬ 
 mined upon publishing, he sought a conference with the 
 latter, but failed in procuring it. How and why he so 
 failed, he has not informed us, but we conclude it must have 
 been merely from his not being able to meet with Mr. Bar¬ 
 nett; for, if any degree of coldness between him and Mr. 
 Reed prevented the interview, the publication of this narra¬ 
 tive under such circumstances, was unjustifiable and un¬ 
 pardonable in the extreme; as, in our view of the subject, 
 nothing can be offered in palliation of the want, not only of 
 caution, but of proper feeling, exhibited in giving to the 
 world the details of a confidential friendship of a peculiarly 
 delicate nature, without the full consent of all parties con¬ 
 cerned in it, than the honest conviction of the individual 
 who so published it, that its appearance would not at least 
 be disagreeable to his friend ^ and that Mr. Heed hiniselt 
 must, at one time, have been of this latter opinion, his mere 
 intention to apply for permission to print his narrative very 
 
230 
 
 Review. —Reed’s Letter to the 
 
 plainly proves. Why then did he not obtain, or, at the 
 least, solicit it? “ When he did determine on the publica¬ 
 tion, Mr. B.” he tells us, “ was, to the best of his know¬ 
 ledge, residing two hundred miles from London.” And 
 what then ? we ask; was there no post to convey a letter to 
 him, and in four or five days to bring back his assent to, or 
 dissent from, the proposed publication of his history? 
 Unquestionably there must have been ; and his not having 
 availed himself of this ordinary mode of communication 
 between friends separated by distance, forces upon our 
 minds the unwelcome and painful suspicion, that at this 
 period Mr. Reed and Mr. Barnett could not have been on 
 terms of cordiality, or even of intimacy; in which case 
 nothing could justify the publication of “ No Fiction” at such 
 a time. Respecting Mr. Reed, however, highly as we do, 
 it will afford us great satisfaction to learn, that our suspi¬ 
 cions are without foundation, and to be furnished with a 
 more satisfactory elucidation of a mystery which we are 
 unable otherwise to solve. 
 
 His third plea is, that being disappointed in obtaining a 
 conference with his friend, his determination to print was 
 ’ not formed till “he had distinctly taken the opinion of 
 friends of discreet and matured judgment on the question. 
 Whether there was any delicacy in submitting a body of 
 facts so concealed, to the public eye.” “ The opinion,” 
 he adds, “ of course was, in each case, such as authorized 
 the step I afterwards took.” That it was so, we cannot for 
 a moment doubt, when Mr. Reed so unequivocally asserts 
 the fact; but that it should be so, we can never cease to 
 marvel, provided (which, from our unfeigned respect for 
 Mr. Reed, we predicate to have been the fact) the case was 
 fanly stated to them. If it was, let them never set up for 
 teachers in Israel, “ of discreet and matured judgment ” 
 who did not counsel him, that the publication he contem¬ 
 plated was in the highest degree indiscreet and indelicate, 
 unless he had Mr. Barnett’s permission for it, which might 
 and ought to be applied for by the very next post. 
 
 Mr. Reed concludes this branch of his defence, by saving 
 to the Reviewer, to whom he addresses it, «Prudence 
 perhaps. Sir, could do little more than this to which 
 we answer. It could do, and ought to have done, a great 
 deal more, and we need not recapitulate in what; satisfied as 
 we are, that most men of correct feeling will be of opinion 
 with us, that the publication of information with respect to 
 another, obtained in the course of an intimate friendship 
 
231 
 
 Editor of the British Review. 
 
 without his express permission, even where the facts stated 
 are preeminently and unequivocally honourable to his cha¬ 
 racter, is a breach of confidence altogether incautious, inju¬ 
 dicious, and unwarrantable. We have spoken strongly on 
 this point, much more so indeed than our regard for Mr. 
 Reed would have permitted us to do, but in the faithful 
 discharge of a public duty, in which we know neither friend 
 nor foe. But that his error was a mere error of judgment, we 
 are as fully convinced, as we are of that error having been 
 committed; and hence we as unreservedly acquit him of the 
 slightest intention of injuring any one, still less a friend 
 for whom he has done so much. 
 
 This naturally brings us to the second part of the charge ; 
 the injury inflicted upon Mr. Barnett, and the blame attach¬ 
 ing itself to Mr. Reed for that infliction.—And first, we 
 would inquire what is the injury done? We admit, at the 
 outset, that every person has a just ground of complaint, 
 whose private history is laid open to the public, either by 
 friend or foe, without his permission first had and obtained 
 for such a disclosure; and a fortiori has he so, where that 
 disclosure is made in violation of the confidence of friend¬ 
 ship. That Mr. Barnett might, therefore, very reasonably 
 complain of this publication, few unprejudiced persons 
 can, we apprehend, be disposed to question; but on the 
 other hand, he alone can determine whether his feelings or 
 interests have been so affected, as to give him any ground 
 of complaint for a real injury sustained. The act done was, 
 as we contend, unjustifiable by the individual who did it; 
 but it does not, therefore, follow that it was injurious to 
 any one; whilst, by assenting to it afterwards, the party 
 who might otherwise most justly have complained of 
 it, in as far as he was concerned, supplied the deficiency 
 of a previous application for his permission; and, as against 
 himself, put the thing upon precisely the same footing as 
 though he, by his consent, had originally been a party to 
 the publication; leaving, however, the other party still open 
 to the charge of indelicacy and precipitancy, in proceeding 
 without that assent. This, then, we conceive to be pre¬ 
 cisely the situation in which Mr. Reed and Mr. Barnett 
 stand. The former has precipitately and incautiously done 
 that, which, as a minister of the gospel, and a gentleman, 
 he ought not to have done; but the latter has deprived 
 himself of the right of complaining of this misconduct, in 
 that he deliberately and advisedly sanctioned the measure 
 the moment he was aware of its adoption, That he did so, 
 
232 
 
 Review. —Reed’s Letter to the 
 
 fully and unreservedly, admits not of a moment’s doubt; 
 for he notoriously introduced himself, and suffered himself 
 to be introduced, into circles in which he had not previously 
 moved, as the Lefevre of No Fiction; conceiving, and we 
 still think, not erroneously conceiving, that the character 
 was on the whole more honourable to him than disadvan¬ 
 tageous. Long, therefore, after the appearance of the work, 
 and his own adoption of the principal character in it, he 
 lived on terms of renewed intimacy with the friend by whom 
 that character was sketched, and himself widely circulated 
 the key to it, which he and the author alone possessed, so 
 completely, as to apply all its characters and events to the 
 real history of their intercourse. During the whole of this 
 period, and it was not a short one, it is self-evident, there¬ 
 fore, that he never dreamt of an injury having been done 
 him by the publication, but, on the contrary, uniformly con¬ 
 sidered it a benefit; and even had he subsequently disco¬ 
 vered that this impression upon the subject had been erro¬ 
 neous, he could have no more right to complain of the 
 publication, than he would have had in the event of his per¬ 
 mission having been previously and properly obtained; for, 
 as w'e have already intimated, his subsequent, deliberate, 
 and long-continued assent, was, at the very least, fully tanta¬ 
 mount to a previous free consent; and if the latter, he must 
 necessarily have taken, without murmuring, all the conse¬ 
 quences. The evidence in this case not only negatives the 
 infliction of any injury upon Mr. Barnett by the publica¬ 
 tion, but proves that, on the contrary, it was highly advan¬ 
 tageous to him; although, we regret to add, that his own 
 subsequent misconduct has rendered that advantage un¬ 
 availing. It is well known, we doubt not, to many of our 
 readers, that subsequent to the publication in question, and 
 his own ready adoption of the leading character in it, this 
 gentleman obtained a situation in the London Orphan Asy¬ 
 lum, of which his friend Mr. Reed has long been the very 
 active secretary. How that situation was obtained, and 
 lost, it is but justice to the latter gentleman to permit him 
 to state at length. 
 
 “ Another head of injury to which your reviewer refers, is con¬ 
 nected with Mr. B.’s introduction to the London Orphan Asylum, 
 and which he thus expresses:— 
 
 “ ‘ When he offered himself as a candidate for the office of 
 assistant-secretary, it was objected to him, that he was the hero of 
 No Fiction; that he had so misconducted himself in the Post- 
 office, that he was in danger of dismissal; that lie had embez- 
 
Editor' of the British Review. 
 
 233 
 
 zled the money of his employers, and that in all respects he was a 
 most immoral character.’ 
 
 Now, it is necessary for me to meet this statement with the 
 plain and bold assertion, that it is false, and, as I shall shew, most 
 ungenerously false. 
 
 “ When the situation in question became vacant, Mr. Barnett 
 applied for my advice in offering himself for it.—‘ It would,’ he 
 said, ‘ take him from his brother’s, where he was exposed to temp¬ 
 tation—it would restore him to his best connexions—it would be 
 all he desired.’ 
 
 “ I apprized him, that the ground was already occupied by a 
 very eligible candidate—that I had no doubt, if he ventured to 
 compete with him, all his former life would be inquired into, and 
 brought forward—that I thought, with steadiness of conduct, he 
 would be the more suitable of the two candidates—and that, with 
 this conviction, waving my own feelings, I should regard myself 
 bound to forward the object to the utmost, should he continue to 
 think it so desirable. I beggedhim to take time to consider it; and 
 having done so, he resolved to face whatever difficulties might 
 arise, and become a candidate. I immediately did what I have 
 not done before or since, I wrote separately in his behalf to the 
 members of the Board, and gave him every assistance in his own 
 personal canvass. 
 
 “ The night of election came. A gentleman who supported the 
 other candidate, from his knowledge of his excellent character, but 
 who did not know that such a book as No Fiction was in existence, 
 stated he had heard, (it was the common report when Mr. B. 
 eloped,) that he had been very unsteady, that he had left his duty 
 and his country, and that, he had even embezzled money to a large 
 amount belonging to the Post-office. Another gentleman, to whom 
 Mr. B. had introduced himself indiscreetly as the Lefevre of No 
 Fiction, took occasion to say, there might possibly be some ground 
 for a part of such reports, as he had been given to understand, 
 from good authority, that there were some allusions to him in an 
 anonymous work he had lately seen. 
 
 “ I was, of course, the only person who could meet these charges, 
 and vindicate his character. I maintained, without knowing of 
 Mr. B.’s admissions, that no one was authorized in concluding any 
 thing for or against a living individual, from the work referred to; 
 and that, in relation to the reports which had been named, they 
 were partly true, and partly false. I allowed that there had been 
 some irregularities: but I insisted, that the report of dishonesty 
 and embezzlement was wholly unfounded; that I could prove this 
 by testimonials, which I read; that I was willing to be one of his 
 sureties to any amount; and that I sincerely believed he deeply 
 regretted whatever might have been amiss in his past conduct. 
 
 “The effect of this statement was, that Mr. B. was allowed to go 
 to the ballot immediately and unanimously ; and the issue of the 
 
234 
 
 Review. —Reed’s Letter to the 
 
 election was his final appointment, notwithstanding his antagonists 
 had no weak points of conduct to be exposed, and had made con¬ 
 siderable interest before he began; and the situation to which he 
 was thus appointed, was worth nearly double that of any one he 
 had ever possessed! 
 
 “ Now, sir, what is the state of the case here ? Mr. B. after 
 forsaking his connexions, seeks once more to be comfortably set¬ 
 tled; his reported iiregularities are, as was expected, brought 
 forward by a person who had not seen No Fiction, mixed, as they 
 are sure to be, with great exaggerations. His friend stands up 
 alone, and meets all the heat of feeling which an election to a 
 valuable place commonly generates, and earnestly vindicates con¬ 
 duct, which it was difficult entirely to elucidate. This vindication 
 is so successful, that he is admitted, without even a motion to the 
 contrary, to go to the ballot, and is elected to a situation better 
 every way, than any one he had possessed in his best days. More 
 than this; this situation he would most certainly have lost, had it 
 not been for the favourable impressions produced on the minds of 
 many who voted, by his having announced himself, or been an¬ 
 nounced by others, as the Lefevre of No Fiction! 
 
 “ This situation Mr. B. might have held to the present hour, with 
 the greatest comfort and respectability; and painful as it may be, 
 
 I am perhaps bound to throw some light on the circumstances 
 attending his removal from it, as some strange and heavy in¬ 
 sinuations have been made respecting it, and your reviewer seems 
 anxious to receive them. The effort has been to cast the blame of 
 losing an excellent appointment on me; and that blame I ought 
 not to endure. 
 
 “ For some months after the election, Mr. B. performed the 
 duties of his office admirably, and cheerfully rendered me all the 
 relief in his power; and so long as this was the case, he felt him¬ 
 self useful and happy. Afterwards he allowed himself indulgences 
 unfavourable to health, and ultimately fell into a state of mental 
 derangement. 
 
 “ I was the first person he called for. I saw him; every atten¬ 
 tion, medical and otherwise, was given to him; his state was 
 treated with the greatest tenderness and delicacy; I attended in 
 his place, and discharged all his duties till he recovered, that no 
 one might complain ; and when he did recover, and I was made 
 aware, by those who lived with him, of the causes of this distressing 
 affliction, I wrote an affectionate and faithful letter to him. He 
 acknowledged it with tears of gratitude, and assured me, that he 
 would do honour to whatever my friendship had led me to say in his 
 favour. 
 
 “ For about three months he kept to his resolutions, and 
 assisted greatly to promote the interests of the Charity. Then he 
 relapsed into a similar state ; and it became necessary for him to 
 send in his resignation. That resignation was accepted without 
 
235 
 
 i Editor of the British Review. 
 
 remark; and the Board unanimously approved of testimonials 
 which were drawn up by my own hand, and which are the best he 
 possesses. I was, and am still sensible, that this delicate conduct 
 on their part was observed very much in respect to my feelings; 
 and I shall always be grateful for it, exercised as it was, under 
 circumstances which gave me so much concern and mortification. 
 
 “ During the whole term of his continuance, an unkind word 
 was not addressed to him; whatever was omitted, I did, and utter¬ 
 ed no reproach ; and I have his own acknowledgment in a casual 
 note, when leaving the situation—‘ That he had only himself to 
 blame for itand the only feeling I had, or have on the subject, is 
 that of deep regret, that he so little fulfilled the expectations raised 
 concerning him, and frustrated no inconsiderable efforts made to 
 help and bless him.” [pp. 30—35.] 
 
 On this statement, few of our readers will, we apprehend, 
 come to any other conclusion, than that at which we have 
 arrived,—that the conduct of the author of No Fiction 
 towards the hero of his work, was, in this transaction at 
 the least, so far from injurious, that it was kind, friendly, 
 and considerate, in the extreme; nor, through the whole of 
 their connexion, does there appear the slightest reason to 
 suspect that it was ever intentionally otherwise. We be¬ 
 lieve, as fully as the warmest friend of Mr. Reed, and even 
 Mr. Reed himself, can do, that the character of Lefevre was 
 never sketched, or published, with a malignant hand or 
 view, but, on the contrary, with a kind intention towards 
 its original; for whom, until he strangely thrust himself 
 forward, under circumstances far less creditable to him 
 than those in which his friend had placed and left him, the 
 general impression was decidedly, if not universally, of the 
 most favourable kind. By his friends, by the public, and 
 even by himself, he was considered an example of the power 
 of religion in reclaiming the victim of those strong tempta¬ 
 tions, to which he was not singularly exposed, from the 
 error of his ways; and an example so delineated as to be 
 beneficial to others, whilst it was not discreditable to 
 him, at least in the estimation of those, whose judgment of 
 human character and actions is formed upon, and guided 
 by, the word of God. The misfortune of this well-meant 
 attempt has been, not that it failed in the latter, but the 
 former part of its object, by prematurely presenting a living 
 instance of the power of divine grace in changing the heart 
 and life, ere the sincerity of that repentance, and ameliora¬ 
 tion of conduct, which is the evidence of this regenerating 
 change, had stood the test of time ; a failure which will, we 
 
236 
 
 Revieiv. —Reed’s Letter to the 
 
 hope, deter others from the dangerous, and very improper 
 practice, of giving' us examples of the sovereign power of 
 God, in this his mightiest work, from men still exposed, 
 from the trials and temptations of life, at least to the 
 liability of making shipwreck of their faith, and bringing 
 disgrace upon the Christian name. 
 
 In this view of the subject, we are aware of having argued 
 the case as between religious men, looking mainly, if not 
 solely, to the approbation of the religious public, and the 
 view which they are likely to take of their characters and 
 conduct; and inasmuch as both the litigant parties, either 
 form, or profess to form, a part of this division of the 
 public, we apprehend, that in doing so, we have not done 
 either of them wrong. But if Mr. Barnett, shifting 
 the ground which he has long occupied, and which we sup¬ 
 pose him anxious still to occupy, chooses now to say, 
 —I appeal from the judgment of the sanctuary, to that of 
 the exchange,—from the people of God, to the men and 
 the maxims of the world—he then unquestionably may 
 have been injured by the publication of his history; see¬ 
 ing that by such a tribunal, and such judges, as he will 
 thus have chosen, the vices of his character will alone be 
 considered, whilst the regenerating influence of the Spirit 
 of God upon it, (a redeeming quality, in the estimation of 
 the Christian, above all comparison or price) is treated as 
 mere hypocrisy and cant. Nor will he there be judged for 
 mere follies and dissipations, on which little, if any, censure 
 would be passed; for the work most undoubtedly con¬ 
 tains some charges, which no man of honour, or of busi¬ 
 ness, can look at, but with abhorrence; and it has been 
 urged against Mr. Reed, that one of these amounts to 
 felony. To this imputation, however, he gives the following 
 direct denial. 
 
 “ I distinctly assert, that there is no such charge in the whole 
 work. Lefevre is indeed said to have employed a small sum, 
 which he held for other purposes, to meet some passing claim on 
 him; but he is stated to have done this, ‘in the integrity of his 
 heart,’ and with the full design and prospect of restoring it before 
 he should have occasion to account for it. Now the object was 
 not to shew that this was a dishonest practice, but to warn youth 
 against it as a dangerous habit. To have called it necessarily, 
 and in every case dishonest, would have been absurd, as multi¬ 
 tudes act on the principle, whose uprightness of intention cannot 
 be questioned ; and even the danger is not in the thing itself, but in 
 the liability to an inconsiderate use of such monies, and, from the 
 
237 
 
 Editor of the British Review. 
 
 possible difficulty of returning the trifle so borrowed, in the ulti¬ 
 mate exposure of one’s integrity to temptation. This is all I de¬ 
 signed to convey by the paragraph in question; and if any word 
 or sentence of mine really imports more, (which I cannot perceive,) 
 
 I freely acknowledge that it expresses more than I intended.” 
 [pp. 27, 28.] 
 
 Of the intentions here expressed, we entertain not the 
 shadow of a doubt; but in executing them, Mr. Reed has 
 proved that he is at least a better divine than a lawyer; for, 
 adding to his statement the trifling fact, which, according 
 to our recollection of the history of the transaction given in 
 No Fiction, is there stated,—that this money was intrusted 
 to Mr. Barnett, as a confidential servant, by his employer, 
 and we have such a felony made out, as we have ourselves 
 known many a clerk convicted for, under the embezzlement 
 act. 
 
 Having gone through the two first and more serious of 
 the charges against Mr. Reed, and shewn, as we flatter 
 ourselves, that he is guilty but of imprudence, in the origi¬ 
 nal publication of Mr. Barnett’s history without his per¬ 
 mission, we come now to the more venial one of vanity, in 
 eulogizing himself and his family. Neither with himself nor 
 his family has the writer of this article the slightest per¬ 
 sonal acquaintance; he therefore is unable to fonn any 
 judgment of the resemblance between them and certain 
 characters in No Fiction; yet has he every reason to 
 believe, from the information of others well qualified to 
 determine the point, that, as far as his parents are concerned, 
 this resemblance is striking and minute. On the same 
 authority, we should say the same thing as to the general 
 features of character in Douglas and Mr. Reed himself; 
 and the general assent of his friends would bear out the 
 appropriation of this twin-hero of his story. lie, however, 
 distinctly disclaims all intention of having drawn this 
 character from himself; we must therefore take the resem¬ 
 blance to have been accidental, or rather unintentional. 
 Yet surely it would be “ passing strange,” that whilst 
 giving, in the guise of fiction, the history of a most intimate 
 friendship of many years, he should draw the character of 
 his friend so very faithfully that no one can mistake it, and 
 yet avoid all resemblance to his own. Throughout his 
 laboured repudiation of such resemblance, we observe, 
 indeed, that Mr. Reed carefully abstains from every thing 
 like an assertion, that, in as far as he knows himself, Doug¬ 
 las is in every respect an opposite character to his own: 
 
238 
 
 Review. —Reed's Letter to the 
 
 and doing, as he undoubtedly did, what he represents 
 Douglas to have done, some such explicit declaration— 
 some strong points o'f difference, familiar at least to his 
 familiar friends, should be given, ere the world (and from 
 them we wish not to be severed) can be chargeable with 
 uncharitableness, in ranking this unintentional resemblance 
 with the unintentional improprieties and indecorums, with 
 which alone we consider the author of No Fiction to be 
 chargeable. 
 
 This is the result of our honest and unbiassed judgment 
 upon the subject; and regretting, as we unfeignedly should 
 do, the mode in which we have expressed it giving any 
 uneasiness to Mr. Reed, whom we believe to be a highly 
 honourable man, we close our notice of his pamphlet, by 
 extracting from it, a defence of fiction, as a mode of incul¬ 
 cating moral and religious truths, by far the most masterly 
 that we ever read. 
 
 “ The fault of a tale, in my view, is not that it is a tale, but that 
 it is immoral or irreligious. Let it be wisely devoted to the illus¬ 
 tration of good habits, good opinions, and good principles, and I 
 see in it no evil, but much benefit. Indeed, most of those who are 
 disposed, from limited reading or unexamined prejudices, to com¬ 
 plain of the thing, apart from its admitted abuses, are not aware 
 how far their objection reaches. You, yourself, Sir, from whatever 
 cause, seem to have fallen into the same inconsistency. In that 
 number of the Review where you sanction remarks against ficti¬ 
 tious works, you give your sanction and your praise to two con¬ 
 siderable poems ! Is it to be said, that 'they are not exactly the 
 same thing? I reply, exactly so; excepting only that they are in 
 metre. The poem and the novel are precisely of the same class, 
 and are to be approved or condemned, on the very same princi¬ 
 ples ; and there is quite as much to censure, under the alluring 
 dress of rhyme, as beneath the plainer garb of prose. 
 
 u If this point be admitted, and I will venture to pronounce it 
 incontestable, it will at once clear the way to the real question, 
 and enable us to look at it in all its magnitude. That question 
 is—whether works of fiction, as such, are, or are not, a laudable 
 and happy medium of illuminating the public mind? By works 
 of fiction, I understand all such works as profess to illustrate 
 moral and natural truth by the aid of the imagination; and it is 
 distinctly to be observed, that it is no part of the inquiry, whether 
 they are in metre or out of it; whether they are historic, dramatic, 
 descriptive, or allegorical; whether they discover talent or not; 
 whether they have, or have not, individually, a good or evil ten¬ 
 dency. We have nothing to do with the execution of any one 
 work; but with the simple principle on which all works of this 
 class necessarily depend. 
 
239 
 
 Editor of the British Review . 
 
 “ It is apparent, then, that before this question can be answered 
 in the negative, we must be prepared to sacrifice the very best 
 and most harmless of prose fictions. iEsop, who has so long: been 
 considered an innocent inmate of our nurseries; ‘ The Village 
 Dialogues,’ which are well adapted to those for whom they are 
 designed ; * Hervey’s Meditations,’ which, with whatever faults of 
 style, are still a fine specimen of piety and talent; * Rasselas,’ not 
 the least production of a mighty mind; ‘ Robinson Crusoe,’ which 
 is so true to nature, though not to particular fact, that we can 
 never think of it as a fiction; ‘ The Pilgrim’s Progress,’ which has 
 gained to itself applause from the philosophical and imaginative, 
 the illiterate and the critical, the young and the old—which has 
 established itself in almost every dwelling, and is second only in 
 circulation to the Bible, and Book of Common Prayerthese 
 must all be sacrificed, before works of fiction, as such, can be con¬ 
 demned, for they are all fictitious, they are all novels. 
 
 “ On the same principle it will be, as we have intimated, indis¬ 
 pensable that we should abandon at once, and for ever, all the 
 walks of poetry. All poetry is fiction; and our finest poems are 
 novels in verse, though, in most cases, resting on facts. Our 
 Virgil, Homer, and Milton, therefore, must be shut, to be opened 
 no more; and we must cease to learn the lessons of wisdom or 
 piety from Pope and Addison, Cowper and Montgomery, Young, 
 Milman, and Wordsworth. All, ‘ from the diverting story of John 
 Gilpin,’ to the most sublime productions of human genius, must 
 pass under a common sentence of reprobation, before any one tale 
 can, because it is a tale, be condemned. 
 
 “ More than this—If this question is to be decided in the nega¬ 
 tive, I would ask, what is to become of the fine arts generally? 
 Music, painting, sculpture, what would these be without the ima¬ 
 gination ? They all rest on the sounds, and figures, and scenes 
 of nature; but they all depend essentially on the imagination , for 
 those combinations which impart to them their interest and sub¬ 
 limity. It is this power, that intuitively rejecting what is discord¬ 
 ant, feeble, or deformed, and as quickly suggesting what is 
 beautiful, grand, or affecting, presents us with a living type, or 
 that ideal perfection which it has conceived; and without it, these 
 arts, and all their affinities, would be prostrated in the dust— 
 would be a mere mechanical exercise, in which there could be no 
 place for the movements and inspirations of a mind, dilated by its 
 own divine inventions. Yet, so far as the imagination is con¬ 
 cerned in them, they are manifestly fictitious ; and if fiction must 
 not be written, it must not be delineated; and the finest works of 
 Raphael, of Phidias, and of Handel, must be proscribed; and 
 those arts which contribute so largely, and, under due restraints, 
 so innocently to our intellectual enjoyment, and national civiliza¬ 
 tion, must be permitted to expire, or be reduced to a state worse 
 than extinction. 
 
240 
 
 Revieio. —Heed’s Letter to the 
 
 \ 
 
 u Again ; I have most seriously to ask, if the question before us 
 is to receive an unfavourable answer, how we are to dispose of 
 those portions of the holy Scriptures which must be affected by 
 it? They contain fables, poetry, and parables; these, we have 
 been inclined to think, add materially to the beauty and pathos 
 of the divine word; but this opinion must necessarily be influ¬ 
 enced by the way in which we determine on the principle—that 
 truth may be lawfully presented to the mind by means of fiction— 
 for they are evidently fictitious. Not to refer to the poetry, which 
 dwells on the whole face of scripture like a sacred halo; the fables 
 of Jotham and Nathan are beautiful fictions, insinuating to the 
 mind important moral truth; and the parables of our Lord are 
 exactly of the same class. These admirable parables may have 
 been, in many cases, suggested by real occurrences, but who 
 would think it necessary that they should simply state fact, 
 and describe living individuals? The affecting parable of the 
 prodigal, for instance, it is not unlikely, was intimated to the 
 mind of the Saviour, by what he had observed in human life, 
 and without doubt it would describe the leading follies of many 
 a youth, who lived in his time; yet, before this sketch can be jus¬ 
 tified, must it be shewn that the representation applies to a parti¬ 
 cular individual, and a particular family? and must it be con¬ 
 demned, on finding any discrepances between it and the living 
 example? I reply, Certainly not; it was never meant that these 
 sacred compositions should be brought to such a standard. It is 
 not needful to shew that there was a Dives, a Lazarus, and a Pro¬ 
 digal, to justify these parables; the characters were meant to be 
 fictitious, while they were modelled after the finest and truest con¬ 
 ceptions of human nature. Yet this can only be maintained by 
 allowing that truth may be represented by means of fiction; and 
 those who reject this proposition, must be prepared as they can, 
 to answer for a virtual, but undoubted, rejection of no very incon¬ 
 siderable portion of revelation. 
 
 w Finally, I desire to ask, if the imagination may not be em¬ 
 ployed for these and similar purposes, why was the imagination 
 given? This noble faculty is possessed by us all; it is of its very 
 nature to be employed in fictitious and inventive combinations; 
 and its creations are without end. All that the orator has ex¬ 
 pressed, or the artist delineated, or the author written of its 
 conceptions, are as nothing, compared with those countless forma¬ 
 tions, which inhabit the deep recesses of thought, and which 
 never see the light. But why should this power, the most active 
 and ethereal we know, be bestowed, if not for good ? And how 
 can it be for good, if its most natural exercises are evil ? And 
 they must necessarily be evil, if fictitious combinations are to be 
 condemned; for the very element in which it lives is fiction, as 
 much as reason is the element of the understanding, and love of 
 the affections. On the principle we are considering, it is noques- 
 
241 
 
 Editor of the British Review. 
 
 tion, whether this power is liable to abuse, nor whether its concep¬ 
 tions are bodied forth in description. If they are improper to be 
 expressed , then they are improper to be imagined; and the faculty, 
 for its own sake, must come under reprehension. 
 
 “ In arriving at the conclusion, from these premises, I am really 
 ashamed, sir, formally to inquire, to which side of the question 
 you now determine. It should seem an insult to the understand¬ 
 ing of any man, to ask, whether in contending against the law¬ 
 fulness of fictitious productions, he is disposed to resist the use of 
 the imagination altogether, and, of course, to implicate the utility 
 and benefit of its very existence. Yet I see no other alternative. 
 The plain and incontestable conclusion is—That, before any one 
 fiction can be censured, because it is a fction, all that is imagina¬ 
 tive in our best writers and artists, all that is imaginative in the 
 holy scriptures, and the very nature of the imagination in man, 
 must be submitted to condemnation! Indeed, the conclusion, 
 though so greatly resisted, is so strong, and so much a part of 
 the principle for which I am pleading, that to give them a separate 
 existence almost involves a paradox;—it is nearly saying, that fic¬ 
 tion cannot be condemned while fiction is approved. And if I have 
 taken time to come to such a conclusion, the blame must not be 
 referred to me, but to those who have attempted to divide things so 
 essentially united. 
 
 “ Many benevolent and pious persons, in their jealousy for the 
 safety and welfare of youth, have formed wrong opinions on this 
 subject, under the impulse of fear. Anxious to save the unsuspect¬ 
 ing from the snare of some fictitious writings, as well they might 
 be, they have hastily exclaimed against all productions of the same 
 class; and such persons would now be disposed eagerly to in¬ 
 quire—If we once admit, that works of fiction are lawful and good, 
 what means have we of protecting the reading community from 
 that large mass of licentious novels, which would affect the whole 
 of it like contagion ? I reply, Let them be condemned, severely 
 condemned; yet let them be condemned not as fictions, but on 
 their own separate offences. If they are extravagant or silly; if 
 they encourage morbid feeling or false sentiment; if they apolo¬ 
 gize for vice, while they compliment virtue ; if they sophisticate the 
 plain maxims of morality, or trifle with and impugn the sacred 
 principles of religion ; let the head of offending be shewn, and let 
 them suffer for the crimes of which they are guilty. 
 
 “ This, as it is th e just mode of procedure, is also the safe one 
 Let a parent tell a child, that he objects to all novels or tales, 
 because they are fictions, and therefore bad; and he will at once 
 hazard the success of his most anxious desires. He will ask too 
 much, and be in danger of obtaining nothing. The child will soon 
 fall in with some fiction, to which no reasonable objection can be 
 made; or he will soon have sense to know that his Virgil and 
 Homer are as much fictions or novels as any writings can be; and 
 
242 
 
 Review. —Reed’s Letter to the 
 
 this will destroy his respect for an opinion which he has reverenced, 
 but has found inconsistent. From having regarded an injudicious 
 opinion, he will be tempted unduly to despise it; and it is well, if 
 he does not satisfy himself forwhat he considers needless restraint, 
 by giving his uncurbed attention to works he would never have 
 read, had he not thought them unjustly censured. 
 
 “ As this is the safe mode of proceeding, so it is of more exten¬ 
 sive application. He who adopts it, will not be driven to make 
 weak and irrational distinctions, where, if there are great accidental 
 differences, there can be no essential ones. He will not excuse a 
 tale, and censure a novel; he will not justify a poem, and arraign 
 a story, or withhold his imprimatur from a historical romance. 
 Admitting the principle without limitation, that no work of imagi¬ 
 nation is to be condemned because it is imaginative, we shall at 
 once bring all works of imagination, whether of the pencil, the 
 chisel, or the pen, to a higher standard, and try each of them by 
 its own peculiar claims and character. To do less than this, is to 
 betray the cause we would defend, by our fears and inconsistency; 
 to attempt more, would be to reject a poem, a statue, or a tale, 
 because it is such, and to expose our want of wisdom and of taste 
 to those whom we would influence by our opinion. 
 
 “ And, surely, if works of imagination must be accepted as 
 legitimate, it is most unwise in the friends of religion, to relin¬ 
 quish this province of letters to the worldly and profane. They have 
 been disposed to condemn it; and, in their haste to do so, they have 
 not taken the most tenable position the subject affords. It is 
 readily admitted, that there is much, very much, as the case now 
 is, to condemn; but may it not be fairly inquired, whether this 
 evil has not greatly arisen from the line of conduct pursued by 
 those who are so earnest to censure ? They have abandoned this 
 department of literature: and, therefore, statuary has been too 
 often indelicate, painting too often luscious, and fictitious writings, 
 whether in rhyme or prose, have produced, in rank and unchecked 
 luxuriance, all the poisonous weeds of vice and licentiousness. 
 Their hope undoubtedly was, by withholding their influence from 
 this branch of letters, that it would wither and die; but the effect 
 has been only to leave its fruits to grow wild and noisome. 
 
 “ This error has remained the longer, and acted the more power¬ 
 fully, because it has been sustained by another; what has been 
 condemned has likewise been despised. Certainly no disposition 
 is less adapted to the subject than that of contempt. Corrupted 
 as this portion of our literature unquestionably is, it still contains 
 more of genius, and of philosophy too, than any other; and, from 
 the popular character of its productions, it has exerted and will 
 exert, beyond any other, an influence on the general mind. It is 
 of the last importance, therefore, to a people, that the character of 
 their polite literature should be salutary and good. The mass of 
 a nation will neither be moral nor religious, till its literature be- 
 
Editor of the British Revieiv. 243 
 
 come so! and its literature can never be sanative or pious, while 
 scorned and abandoned by the friends of religion and purity. 
 
 “ Let, then, the mistakes which have been held on the subject 
 be renounced. They have had a most disastrous tendency, and 
 they will work much more extensive mischief if persisted in. We 
 have risen high in the scale of civilization; the polite arts have 
 much more of popular notice and admiration than ever; the tastes 
 and imagination of the people are extensively excited; they are 
 eagerly demanding to be fed, and woe be to us, if we give them a 
 scorpion instead of bread ! It must not be said at this time of day, 
 that these are unwholesome appetites, and that other faculties 
 must be fostered. No—they must all be fed. Poetry cannot 
 die; fiction cannot die; the imitative arts cannot die; unless in¬ 
 vention and imagination should first expire! 
 
 “ Let then the friends of religion and of mankind grant what is 
 due to this branch of knowledge. Let them not put literature and 
 religion in most dangerous and unnatural opposition;- let them 
 feel the importance of having polite learning on their side, in their 
 array against lax morals and bad principles. Let them move in a 
 larger circle than they have hitherto described ; let them not be too 
 fastidious about means; let them employ every talent, and commend 
 every effort, to render works addressed to the imagination as bene¬ 
 ficial as they are influential. Let them not exact conformity in 
 every particular, before they will acknowledge an auxiliary in any. 
 He that is not against good sense and right feeling, is for them, 
 whatever the field of his labour or the gifts of his mind. 
 
 “ Yet, if somewhat like complaint is raised against the course 
 pursued by the serious and the good, it must be received with con¬ 
 siderable qualification. There have always been many of their 
 number, who have thought it neither wise nor safe to" leave so 
 important a power as the imagination, in the hands of infidelity 
 and vice; and by their pen, their pencil, or their sanction, they 
 have done what they could to neutralize an evil which they were 
 not able to prevent. Their example has been as useful as their 
 labours. Numbers were induced to follow in their steps; and re¬ 
 cently those numbers have been happily accumulating. No mean 
 division of the more serious part of the community, have taken a 
 decided interest in the cause of refined literature; they have 
 entered a protest against its monopoly by the frivolous and licen¬ 
 tious ; and they have demanded, that its productions should be so 
 amended as to become a medium of delight and improvement to 
 the most innocent and unwary. 
 
 “ Already we have seen the good effects of this conduct, partial 
 as it has been. The public taste has been purified; the tone of 
 opinion has been strengthened; and vice has been put out of 
 countenance by the steady frown of virtue. Those authors, whose 
 only wish, perhaps, was to please, have been compelled to shift 
 their ground, if they would afford pleasure. Painting has become 
 
 VOL. VIII.— NO. 2. S 
 
 
244 
 
 Review. 
 
 more chaste; poetry has been, in some degree, restored to her 
 native and dignified position; and prose fiction has received a new, 
 a better, if not an unexceptionable, character. And if any one 
 has dared to pass the bounds of decorum, and has sought to wound 
 the public virtue, it has not been possible for him to escape, though 
 the most gifted of mortals, without suffering a deeper wound in his 
 own reputation. 
 
 “ Besides—amongst the advocates of right sentiment and good 
 principles themselves, a band of persons have sprung up, who, 
 imbued with the importance of the undertaking, have determined to 
 employ works of imagination in favour of just morals and devotional 
 affections. They have had not only to labour, but to fight; and 
 have been called not merely to contend with their enemies, but with 
 their allies. However, their efforts have not been in vain; and 
 ultimately they shall be duly appreciated. It is by such efforts, 
 sustained by irrepressible hope, that they shall become the censors 
 of the literary republic, and shall purify and invigorate the streams 
 of literature, till they shall carry refreshment, life, and healing, to 
 the most distant parts of the land. And when this shall be accom¬ 
 plished, we shall have little to desire; the finer arts and deeper 
 sciences shall follow in the illustrious train of piety and truth, and 
 '* every imagination,’ as well as every thought, shall be brought 
 * into captivity to Christ!’ ” [pp. 60—76.] 
 
 For an extract so very much longer than any we are 
 in the habit of making, we should think an apology most 
 justly due both to its author and our readers, but that we 
 entertain a well-grounded expectation, that both the one 
 and the other will rather thank than blame us, for extracting 
 a passage so highly creditable to the taste and talent of its 
 author, and so likely to interest all who peruse it, from a 
 work, which, being altogether a matter of personal alterca¬ 
 tion, is not likely to get into general circulation. To divide 
 it was impossible, without altogether destroying its effect, 
 and that, we apprehend, is so likely to be beneficial to the 
 best interests of religion and of literature, as abundantly to 
 warrant a deviation from our usual apportionment of quota¬ 
 tions, of which we are persuaded that our readers will 
 admit us to be rarely guilty. We intend also to make this 
 defence of a species of writing, which no one is better 
 calculated rightly to employ than its author, the basis 
 of a notice of some half dozen works of Fiction, now piled 
 upon our table; and therefore we insert it, an entire piece 
 in our pages, rather as a separate essay, than an extract in 
 a review. 
 
245 
 
 POETRY. 
 
 THE SMILE THAT WE LOVE IN OUR OWN DEAR 
 
 HOME. 
 
 Addressed to a Young Lady at **********. 
 
 When the business of life compels us to roam 
 From the smile that we love in our own dear home. 
 
 From husband or wife, from brother or friend, 
 
 More distancing still, as our footsteps bend; 
 
 Oh! is it not sweet, for the eye to trace 
 That welcoming smile on a stranger’s face. 
 
 And, sweet to the heart the encouraging tone, 
 
 That assures us we are not quite alone ; 
 
 For that friends, though formed but of yesterday. 
 
 Will try every art that can wile away 
 
 The grief we must feel, when compelled to roam 
 
 From the smile that we love in our own dear home. 
 
 Such welcoming smile, such encouraging tone, 
 
 ’Twas mine to trace—to feel—shall be mine to own : 
 
 For when hither, from southern plains I came, 
 
 A stranger—known only at least by name, • 
 
 I found— how kindly found, from yours and you, 
 
 Welcome warm-hearted, unaffected, true. 
 
 And often since then, as the Queen of the Night 
 Thrice waxes and wanes in her silvery light, 
 
 My round returns—I return but to find 
 A kindness, that well might dispel from the mind 
 The grief we must feel, when compelled to roam 
 From the smile that we love in our own dear home. 
 
 And for kindness like this, what thanks I pray, 
 
 Fair lady, can recreant minstrel pay ? 
 
 A minstrel, Oh yes 1 I must love the name, 
 
 Though years have rolled by since the minstrel flame. 
 
 So dimly that burned in the morning of life. 
 
 Was quenched in the turmoils of legal strife. 
 
 I can but try my rude hand to fling 
 Across my forsaken harp’s breaking string. 
 
 To wake for thee, fair one, a parting strain, 
 
 From chords that my finger may touch not again; 
 
 For sad would their notes be, while their master must roam 
 From the smile that he loves in his own dear home. 
 
246 
 
 Poetry. 
 
 And but faintly they wake, whilst endeavouring to give 
 Words to the wish, in his heart that must live, 
 
 Whilst vibrates its pulse—that for yours and for you, 
 Kind sylphs (if there be such), or angels may strew 
 A pathway of flowers:—as cloudless a sky, 
 
 ’Twere vain that I wished; may the clouds swiftly pass by. 
 And the sun shine in splendour, though tempered its ray, 
 Bright—brightening still, to the perfection of day. 
 
 Whilst for yours, and for you, and for all that you love, 
 May the wish of the minstrel prophetical prove, 
 
 For the kindest of welcomes, whenever you roam 
 From the smile that you love in your own dear home. 
 
 0 . 
 
 LINES WRITTEN IN WALES. 
 
 Mouldering thy once honoured bard’s flying finger, 
 Cambria! thy wild mountain harp I would wake; 
 
 If yet around thee one spirit should linger, 
 
 Blest be that spirit—that harp for thy sake. 
 
 Torrents of foam to the summer-sun gleaming, 
 
 Valleys of shade to that harp have replied* 
 
 When thy bold prophets had burst from their dreaming, 
 And hurled the bold music o’er those that had died. 
 
 Years have rolled by since the breath of false glory. 
 With war’s sullen trumpet, has startled thy glen; 
 
 Long may it be ere thy record of story 
 Is hung with the cypress of murder again. 
 
 I passed by thy once splendid castle,* where title 
 And beauty, and mirth held their festal—but o’er 
 
 Its gate hung the funeral scutcheon—and idle, 
 
 The echo that flung back the anthem of yore. 
 
 I passed by thy Abbey ;f the cowl and the mitre 
 
 Had mingled their dust with the haughty ones there; 
 
 But its time-fretted arch in the sunset grew brighter, 
 And the chill weed of ruin swayed sweetly in air. * 
 
 I passed by thy pillar,! firm-planted to waken 
 Late memory of friends who in battle had sunk; 
 
 But its rooting the visit of thunders had shaken, ’ 
 
 And a voice of the mountains had shattered its trunk. 
 
 Chirk Castle. f Abbey Valle Crucis. 
 
 t Pillar of Eliseg. 
 
I crossed in its gladness thy Dee's druid water, 
 
 All fresh in the fulness of years it flowed on; 
 
 But the hearts that once worshipped were perished in slaughter, 
 The patriot—the chieftain—the harper were gone. 
 
 Too like the lone column, worn, blank, and degraded, 
 
 Which proudly to Heaven raised its rich sculptured head; 
 
 Man blossoms to-day, and to-morrow lies faded, 
 
 All blasted, his triumphs, his glories all fled. 
 
 Alone, in unchangeable bloom o’er his ashes, 
 
 Wild nature lives on,—undeprest and elate; 
 
 Yet the mountain still towers,—yet the broad river dashes. 
 Unsullied by storms, and unstoopiDg to fate. 
 
 But countless and pure as the rain-drop that gathers 
 On thy hills, when the red sheet of lightnings is furled. 
 
 Thy sons shall inspire the renown of their fathers, 
 
 And be all that their fathers have been to the world. 
 
 W. 
 
 GRATITUDE. 
 
 LINES WRITTEN ON PLANTING SLIPS OF GERANIUM AND CONSTANCY, NEAR 
 THE GRAVE OF A VENERABLE FRIEND. 
 
 From “Moral Pieces, in Prose and Verse, by Lydia Huntley / 1 of Hartford , 
 
 Connecticut . 
 
 Little plant of slender form, 
 
 Fair, and shrinking from the storm, 
 
 Lift thou here thine infant head, 
 
 Bloom in this uncultured bed. 
 
 Thou, of firmer spirit too, 
 
 Stronger texture, deeper hue, 
 
 Dreading not the winds that cast 
 Cold snows o’er the frozen waste, 
 
 Rise, and shield it from the blast. 
 
 Shrink not from the awful shade, 
 
 Where the bones of men are laid: 
 
 Short like thine their transient date, 
 
 Keen has been the scythe of fate. 
 
 Forth like plants in glory drest 
 They came upon the green earth’s breast. 
 Sent forth their roots to reach the stream, 
 Their buds to meet the rising beam, 
 
 They drank the morning’s balmy breath, 
 And sunk at eve in withering death. 
 
 
 
 
 
248 
 
 Poetry. 
 
 Rest here, meek plants, for few intrude 
 To trouble this deep solitude; 
 
 But should the giddy footstep tread 
 Upon the ashes of the dead, 
 
 Still let the hand of rashness spare 
 These little plants of love to tear, 
 
 Since fond affection with a tear, 
 
 Has placed them for an offering here. 
 Adorn the grave of her who sleeps 
 Unconscious, while remembrance weeps, 
 Though ever, ever did she feel, 
 
 And mourn those pangs she could not heal. 
 
 Seven times the sun, with swift career. 
 
 Has marked the circle of the year, 
 
 Since first she pressed her lowly bier; 
 
 And seven times, sorrowing have I come, 
 Alone, and wandering through the gloom. 
 To pour ray lays upon her tomb: 
 
 And I have sighed to see her bed 
 With brambles and with thorns o’erspread. 
 
 For surely round her place of rest, 
 
 I should not let the coarse weed twine. 
 Who so the couch of pain has blest, 
 
 The path of want so freely drest, 
 
 And scattered such perfumes on mine. 
 
 It is not meet that she should be 
 Forgotten or unblest by me. 
 
 Ye plants, that in your hallowed beds, 
 
 Like strangers, lift your trembling heads, 
 Drink the pure dew that evening sheds, 
 
 And meet the morning’s earliest ray, 
 
 And catch the sunbeams as they play; 
 
 And when your buds are moist with rain, 
 Oh shed those drops in tears again; 
 
 And if the blast that sweeps the heath. 
 
 Too rudely o’er your leaves should breathe 
 Then sigh for her; and when you bloom, 
 Scatter your fragrance on her tomb. 
 
 But should you, smit with terror, cast 
 Your infant foliage on the blast. 
 
 Or faint beneath the vertic heat, 
 
 Or shrink when wintry tempests beat. 
 
 There is a plant of constant bloom, 
 
 And it shall deck this lowly tomb. 
 
Anecdote. 
 
 249 
 
 Not blanched with frost, or drowned with rain, 
 Or by the breath of winter slain; 
 
 Or by the sweeping gale annoyed, 
 
 Or by the giddy hand destroyed, 
 
 But every morn its buds renewed, 
 
 Are by the dops of evening dewed. 
 
 This is the plant of Gratitude. 
 
 ANECDOTE. 
 
 INDIAN WIT AND GENEROSITY. 
 
 Not many years after the county of Litchfield began to be settled 
 by the English, a stranger Indian came one day into an inn, in the 
 dusk of the evening, and requested the hostess to furnish him with 
 some drink and a supper. At the same time he observed, that he 
 could pay for neither, as he had had no success in hunting ; but pro¬ 
 mised payment as soon as he should meet with better fortune. The 
 hostess refused him both the drink and the supper; called him a lazy, 
 drunken, good-for-nothing fellow; and told him, that she did not 
 work so hard herself, to throw away her earnings upon such crea¬ 
 tures as he was. A man who sat by, and observed that the Indian, 
 then turning about to leave so inhospitable a place, shew'ed by his 
 countenance that he was suffering very severely from want and 
 weariness, directed the hostess to supply him with what he wished, 
 and engaged to pay the bill himself. She did so. When the Indian 
 had finished his supper, he turned to his benefactor, thanked him, 
 and assured him that he should remember bis kindness, and, when¬ 
 ever he was able, would faithfully recompense it. For the present, 
 he observed, he could only reward him with a story, which, if the 
 hostess would give him leave, he wished to tell. The hostess, whose 
 complacency had been recalled by the prospect of payment, con¬ 
 sented. The Indian, then addressing himself to his benefactor, said, 
 “ I suppose you read the Bible.” The man assented. “ Well,” said 
 the Indian, “ the Bible say, God made the world, and then he took 
 him, and looked on him, and say, * It’s all very good.’ Then he 
 made light, and took him, and looked on him, and say, * It’s all very 
 good/ Then he made dry land and water, and sun and moon, and 
 grass and trees, and took him, and looked on him, and say, ‘It’s all 
 very good/ Then he made beasts, and birds, and fishes, and took 
 him, and looked on him, and say, ‘ It’s all very good/ Then he made 
 man, and took him, and looked on him, and say, ‘ It’s all very good/ 
 Then he made woman, and took him, and looked on him, and he no 
 dare say one such word.” The Indian having told his story, with¬ 
 drew. 
 
 A few years after, the man who had befriended him, had occasion 
 to go some distance into the wilderness between Litchfield (then a 
 frontier settlement) and Albany, where he was taken prisoner by an 
 Indian scout, and carried to Canada. When he arrived at the prin¬ 
 cipal settlement of the tribe, on the southern border of the St. 
 Lawrence, it was proposed by some of the captors that he should be 
 put to death. During the consultation, an old woman demanded 
 
250 
 
 American Literature and Intelligence. 
 
 that he should be given up to her, that she might adopt him in the 
 place of a son, whom she had lost in the war. He was accordingly 
 given to her, and lived through the succeeding winter in her family, 
 experiencing the customary effects of savage hospitality. The fol¬ 
 lowing summer, as he was at work in the forest alone, an unknown 
 Indian came up to him, and asked him to meet him at a place which 
 he pointed out, upon a given day. The prisoner agreed to the pro¬ 
 posal, but not without some apprehensions that mischief was in¬ 
 tended him. During the interval, these apprehensions increased to 
 such a degree, as to dissuade him effectually from fulfilling his en¬ 
 gagement. Soon after, the same person found him at his work 
 again, and very gravely reproved him for not performing his promise. 
 The man apologized awkwardly enough, but in the best manner in 
 his power. The Indian told him, that he should be satisfied if he 
 would meet him at the same place on a future day, which he named. 
 The man promised to meet him, and fulfilled his promise. When he 
 arrived at the spot, he found the Indian provided with two muskets, 
 ammunition for them, and two knapsacks. The Indian ordered him 
 to take one of each, and follow him. The direction of their march 
 was to the south. The man followed without the least knowledge of 
 what he was to do, or whither he was going; but concluded, that if 
 his conductor intended him harm, he would have despatched him at 
 the beginning; and that at the worst, he was as safe where he was 
 as he could be in any other place. Within a short time, therefore’ 
 his fears subsided, although the Indian observed a profound and 
 mysterious silence concerning the object of the expedition. In the 
 day-time they shot such game as came in their way, and at night 
 kindled a fire, by which they slept. After a tedious journey of many 
 days, they came one morning to the top of an eminence, presenting a 
 prospect of a cultivated country, in which was a number of houses 
 The Indian asked his companion whether he knew the "round. He 
 replied eagerly, that it was Litchfield. His guide, then, after remind¬ 
 ing him that he had so many years before relieved the wants of a 
 famishing Indian, at an inn in that town, subjoined, “ I that Indian * 
 now l payyou! go home.” Having said this, he bade him adieu' 
 and the man joyfully returned to his own house. 
 
 AMERICAN LITERATURE AND INTELLIGENCE. 
 
 We have received from New-York some pamphlets in 
 defence of Bishop Hobart; but as they are not complete 
 we defer noticing them until our next Number, especially 
 as it would be impossible to do justice to the subject now 
 from the distance of the final editor from London rendering 
 it necessary to publish the work with a somewhat smaller 
 quantity of matter than usual, rather than risk a delay in 
 500^ ] a PP earance ' b y the transmission of proofs nearly 
 
arije 
 
 JULY, 1824 . 
 
 Memoir of the late Miss Jane Bury, of Stockport. 
 
 [Though the subject of the following Memoir was unknown but in 
 the circles of private life, the knowledge which some of the editors of 
 this work possessed of her talents, her virtues, and her piety, induce 
 them most readily to comply with the wishes of her friends, to give a 
 place in their pages to a memorial of her worth, which will, they 
 flatter themselves, be instructive to the rising generation of the female 
 sex, whilst it is uot uninteresting to their readers of every age and 
 class.— Edit.] 
 
 “ The mind was well-informed, the passions held 
 Subordinate, and diligence was choice.” Cowper. 
 
 The biographer of Kirke White elegantly observes, that 
 “just at the age when the painter would have wished to fix 
 his likeness, and the lover of poetry would delight to con¬ 
 template him,—in the morning of his virtues, the full spring 
 blossom of his hopes,—just at that age hath death set the 
 seal of eternity upon him, and the beautiful hath been made 
 permanent.” Without asserting, that the excellent young 
 lady, whose moral and intellectual worth it is the object of 
 the following record to exhibit, was equal to that celebrated 
 youth, it may be affirmed, that the passage just quoted is 
 truly applicable to her, and that there was a striking simi¬ 
 larity between both the individuals, in sobriety of judgment, 
 vigilant application, and substantial piety. 
 
 Mi ss Jane Bury was born at Hopehill, near Stockport, 
 in Cheshire, October 26, 1801. The days of childhood fur¬ 
 nished none of those romantic events, and marvellous occur¬ 
 rences, which have been so frequently and injudiciously 
 published to the world as facts. It may suffice to remark, 
 that she furnished occasion for rejoicing, not only in the 
 possession of considerable energy of character, but, more 
 especially, as manifesting, with advancing maturity, those 
 amiable features of disposition, which indicated, by their 
 development, the principles of spiritual life. The natural 
 reservedness of Miss Bury’s temper, together with a nervous 
 timidity, led to an habitual silence in company, and at the 
 same time render it impossible to delineate, with desirable 
 accuracy, the process of her mental improvement and reli¬ 
 gious experience. This deficiency, though for some reasons 
 VOL. VIII. — no. 3. T 
 
252 
 
 Memoir of Miss Jane Bury. 
 
 9 
 
 to be deplored, clothes her memory with additional interest, 
 by giving to her feminine excellency a polish, sacred in its 
 character, and impressive in its effects. Instead of mani¬ 
 festing a disposition to forwardness and tattling, or any 
 thing approaching to Mrs. More’s happy delineation of the 
 “ Borderers,” there was about Miss Bury a tact of delicacy 
 which prevented obtrusion, and a devotion to intellectual 
 pursuits, which gave to her faith a more vigorous exercise, 
 while it received illustration and daily increase, by the 
 actings of a spirit eminently meek and quiet. 
 
 The memorial of her juvenile days, embracing a faithful 
 sketch of her general character and attainments, will be 
 best exhibited in the language of one who intimately knew 
 her. “ At a very early period,” the narrative states, “ she 
 discovered a strong bias for mental culture. This taste was 
 seconded by uncommon industry and perseverance. No 
 pursuit undertaken by her, was relinquished on account of 
 its difficulty. When a child, she took great pleasure in com¬ 
 mitting to memory long extracts from various authors; and 
 at the age of ten or eleven voluntarily learned, during her 
 play hours, the whole of the third book of Milton’s Paradise 
 Lost. They who had the charge of instructing her at this 
 period well know how solicitous she was that no lesson 
 should be omitted, whether of a serious nature, or of lighter 
 accomplishment. She seemed, indeed, to act intuitively, 
 upon the principle which so many learn only by experience, 
 and which Butler, among others, has so beautifully illustra¬ 
 ted in his * Analogy’—that the neglect and omission of one 
 season of our lives, however trivial, will necessarily and in¬ 
 variably involve their respective consequences and regret 
 in a succeeding. The solidity of her judgment was remark¬ 
 able, and to her early conviction of the necessity of restrain¬ 
 ing the imagination in its undue exercise, may be attributed 
 much of the useful and substantial knowledge she acquired. 
 She did not, perhaps, possess much originality of thought, 
 and of this she was aware, but her mind was constantly 
 active, and her understanding was clear, comprehensive, and 
 unprejudiced. Works addressed specifically to the ima«i- 
 nation were by her rarely perused. Thus, though in dispo¬ 
 sition affectionate and susceptible, she gradually acquired a 
 masculine vigour, free, on the one hand, from false senti¬ 
 ment, and on the other, from vain delusions.” 
 
 “ Previous to going to school, she occasionally enjoyed 
 the company of sensible and intelligent ministers; and the 
 interest which, though so young, she took in their conver- 
 
253 
 
 Memoir of Miss Jane Bury. 
 
 sation, was evinced by an animated countenance, and by 
 frequent recurrence, even in the last year of her life, to sen¬ 
 timents and facts which, at those seasons, had been stated.” 
 
 “ At school her ambition to excel, was universally re¬ 
 marked ; and such was her ardour in the pursuit of know¬ 
 ledge, as sometimes to double, and even treble the appointed 
 lessons. The biographical memoir of Mrs. Ramsay w r as now 
 perused, and it appears to have materially influenced her 
 future habits. She frequently alluded w r ith admiration to 
 the mental exertions of that excellent woman, and to her 
 peculiar felicity in being able to support health with only 
 four hours sleep. It was Jane’s ambition to imitate her, as 
 far as circumstances would allow; and during one winter 
 especially, she was usually engaged at her studies as early 
 as four or five o’clock. 
 
 “ During the last four years and a half of her life, she 
 was assiduously employed as an instructor; but the hours 
 set apart for recreation, were still devoted to the increase 
 of her own stores, and existing memorials shew how well 
 they were occupied. These consist of voluminous extracts 
 from various authors, of which the historical w'orks of Gib¬ 
 bon, Robertson, Rollin, &c. form a large proportion. Her 
 extracts from Boswell’s Life of Johnson, Miss Aikin’s 
 Memoirs of the Court of Queen Elizabeth, Southey’s Life 
 of Wesley, and other biographies, are occasionally inter¬ 
 spersed with remarks, which shew how well the sentiments 
 were weighed. Indeed, no hint calculated to facilitate im¬ 
 provement was lost, and the earliest opportunity was seized 
 for reducing it to practice. She was much attached to 
 natural philosophy and botany, and her papers testify 
 steady exertions for impressing upon her memory every fact 
 connected with those subjects. At the age of nineteen she 
 was so much interested in an article in the Encyclopaedia 
 Britannica, on Intellectual Education, as to abridge it for 
 more easy use. Nor were the numerous extracts thus made, 
 treated as useless, but at stated periods were diligently re¬ 
 viewed; and thus the impressions first made were strength¬ 
 ened. Her very ready recollection of events has been attri¬ 
 buted by those who were unacquainted with her habits, to a 
 remarkably retentive memory; but those to whom she was 
 best known, more justly assigned it principally to unwearied 
 application. During the last year of her life, she was en¬ 
 gaged in reading Locke’s Essay on the Human Understand¬ 
 ing, the first volume of which she finished by devoting a 
 short time before breakfast to its perusal: of this work she 
 
254 
 
 Memoir of Miss Jane Bury. 
 
 wrote an analysis. Never satisfied with present acquire¬ 
 ments, she was continually looking forward, and she consi¬ 
 dered that time as lost, which was not diligently and duly 
 appropriated. Thus the moments of social intercourse were 
 devoted to the needle; and it has been remarked by visitors, 
 that she Was never unemployed. By the same habits she 
 acquired a competent knowledge of the Italian language, and 
 translated into the French several essays, which remain spe¬ 
 cimens alike of taste and skill.” 
 
 “ Her superior attainments in music will not be easily 
 forgotten, especially by those who know how very little time 
 she thought it right to devote to its charms. Her execution, 
 though not rapid, was clear and pleasing, and her touch 
 exquisitely light and graceful.”* 
 
 The reader’s attention shall now be directed to Miss 
 Bury’s MSS. 
 
 It was in the year 1819, that her propensities to self-culti¬ 
 vation were more explicitly made known, as will be manifest 
 from the following letters. They were addressed to one of 
 her relatives, and, w'hile unfolding the writer’s mind, will fur¬ 
 nish no uninteresting specimen of her habits of thinking. 
 
 _ “il%13, 1819. 
 
 “ I can assure you, my dear-, that I never sat down to 
 
 write with so much satisfaction as at present; your proposal 
 gave me much pleasure. I had long wished to have some 
 lriend, to whom I could communicate my thoughts, and 
 whose advice I might be favoured with. I sometimes think 
 I could tell you every thing, but have afterwards been de¬ 
 terred by the idea that it would have too much the appear¬ 
 ance of egotism, and that love of self which is inherent in 
 
 our nature; yet when reflecting that I am writing to_ 
 
 who loves me ‘ with all my faults,’ this difficulty partly 
 vanishes, though I cannot say it is entirely removed. 
 
 “ I s h? u ^ be glad if you would recommend to me some 
 plan for improving the little time which may be called mu 
 own. I am sensible of great difficulty in things which are of 
 importance to my station, and often regret that a deep sense 
 of the value of instruction, and of that time which was en- 
 tnelv devoted to it, had not been earlier impressed on my 
 
 mind ; but now that season is past, there is no one to blame 
 but myself. 
 
 It has fiequently occurred to me, as not being quite 
 right to inculcate so strenuously upon young people, that 
 the desire to obtain knowledge is laudable, and will ever 
 
 * Account of Miss Bury, in a letter to a Friend.—Orig. MS. 
 
255 
 
 Memoir of Mins Jane Bun/. 
 
 meet with encouragement. This opinion is seldom found 
 suitable to those who are in the middle or lower ranks of 
 society, for if they fulfil the various duties of their station 
 in a conscientious manner, the cultivation of their miuds 
 will, of course, be neglected, and that considered of least, 
 which was before maintained to be of the greatest import¬ 
 ance. Would it not be better to give them an accurate view 
 of the subject, according to the situation they are to fill? 
 
 “ I should like to know how far it is wrong to indulge a 
 taste for some particular studies which are not absolutely 
 necessary to be acquired. 
 
 “ I often wonder how it is that some people are so entirely 
 engrossed in the trivial occurrences which pass every day, 
 as to think and talk of nothing else; for if it is urged, by 
 way of excuse, that trifles become of consequence when 
 connected with the concerns of life, yet surely a small por¬ 
 tion of time might be spent profitably, in discoursing upon 
 subjects that are worthy the attention of a rational creature. 
 
 “ I hope you will excuse all defects, and write a few lines 
 soon to Your ever affectionate, Jane.” 
 
 It is impossible not to be struck with the good sense and 
 judicious observations embodied in the foregoing letter. 
 Nor can that part of it which regards education be impressed 
 too forcibly upon persons so engaged, whether as instruc¬ 
 tors or as parents. To the one class it furnishes a useful 
 hint, to the other a safe guide. When will the managers of 
 Sunday and day schools sufficiently comprehend its pro¬ 
 priety ? 
 
 “ June 9, 1820. 
 
 “ My very dear,—I have just finished reading a very in¬ 
 teresting work, Sir W. Forbes’ * Life of Dr. Beattie,’ and 
 have made some extracts from it, which if you have not read, 
 you will like to see. They will give you some idea of the 
 character of this great and good man. Perhaps you will 
 think, as I do sometimes, that I read too many books to 
 derive any lasting benefit from them; but really it is very 
 difficult to resist the temptation, when a work of this kind 
 comes in the way. I hope it has not been perused without 
 some profit. 
 
 “ I never before heard of the * Minstrel.’ It is highly 
 spoken of, and I should like much to compare the poet and 
 the philosopher. The union, considering their distinguishing 
 characteristics, seems almost incompatible. That the author 
 of an Essay on Truth, and other philosophical works, should, 
 at the same time, possess those creative powers of imagina- 
 
250 
 
 Memoir of Miss Jane Bury . 
 
 tion which constitute some of the requisite qualities of a 
 good poet, is to me a striking proof of the wonderful versa¬ 
 tility of some minds. 
 
 “ It has often struck me, that the frequent perusal of 
 poetry (though of the best kind) must produce much the 
 same effects as novels and romances, the larger portion 
 being addressed to the imagination. Imagination is evi¬ 
 dently an indispensable qualification in true poetry; for 
 without it the most harmonious verse would soon lose its 
 effect, and the ear be tired with the dull uniformity of 
 rhyming syllables. Those poets,therefore, whose warm and 
 lively fancies can bring forth abundant and diversified ima¬ 
 gery, and paint the beautiful or the sublime in the most 
 glowing colours, will be the objects of most interest. This 
 is my conjecture. Though I have read but little, and can¬ 
 not attempt to argue on comparative merits, yet I think Dr. 
 Beattie confirms the opinion when he says, ‘ the end of 
 true poetry is to give pleasure rather than to convey in¬ 
 struction,’ and that ‘ a poet must do a great deal for the sake 
 of pleasure only; for if he fail to please, he may deserve 
 praise on other accounts, but as a poet he has done nothing.’ 
 He shews also that poetry exhibits a state of things some¬ 
 what different from what they really are. If so, will it not 
 often mislead the judgment, and produce a disrelish for 
 plain and sober realities? In this manner many erroneous 
 ideas are formed, and the mind is perplexed, and often led 
 astray, when searching after truth. 
 
 “ But I do not wish to depreciate the value of poetry, 
 which has always been a source of gratification to me, only 
 to suggest what I conceive to be the consequences of too 
 great a love for it. My ideas upon this subject are but im¬ 
 perfect, yet such as they are, I submit them to your inspec¬ 
 tion, and remain your ever affectionate and sincere friend, 
 
 . “Jane.” 
 
 From this period more particularly, may be dated the 
 visible expansion of Miss Bury’s mind; her character was, 
 in fact, formed, and all her powers had received a direction 
 susceptible of pleasure from that only which was suited to 
 mental vigour, and to promote her best interests. 
 
 The art of self-cultivation seems to have been now at¬ 
 tempted with increased assiduity; and her observations on 
 every thing connected with personal improvement hence¬ 
 forth testify alike the soundness of her judgment, and the 
 accuracy of her taste. She was taught too, we trust, by the 
 holy Spirit, " the vanity of man as mortal,” the insufficiency 
 
257 
 
 Memoir of' Miss Jane Jiury. 
 
 of even human learning to furnish happiness, and the fear¬ 
 ful state of the heart by reason of transgression. Thus the 
 following extracts, instead of occasioning surprise, may 
 serve the twofold purpose of confirming scripture testimony, 
 and exhibiting, in a spirit of humility, the foundation of 
 that beautiful superstructure which was gradually advancing 
 
 to perfection. . 
 
 To a careful perusal of the memoirs of Miss Hamilton, 
 and it is probable also of Miss Elizabeth Smith, may be 
 traced many of the succeeding observations. 
 
 « There appears to me,” she writes, “ to be very little 
 difficulty in convincing ourselves of the poverty of our un¬ 
 derstandings, and of the scanty supplies of knowledge with 
 which our minds are furnished. If we reflect on the vast 
 depths of knowledge, they will be found illimitable to our 
 capacities; if we endeavour to range through the woild of 
 science, they will appear immense and endless ; but let us 
 only take a survev of one little spot, and it will discover to 
 our astonished view, stores apparently inexhaustible, and 
 amply sufficient to employ all our faculties during the period 
 of our earthly existence. 13ut what are the effects which 
 such a contemplation should produce? Should we be so 
 overwhelmed with the boundless perspective, as to imagine 
 every attempt futile ; and be contented, because we cannot 
 know every thing, to know' nothing? Eather, let it excite in 
 us proper sentiments w ith respect to our own ignorance, and 
 
 stimulate to fresh exertion.” . 
 
 Almost immediately afterwards it is added : “ lo the 
 mind which is ever ready to receive instruction, innumerable 
 sources are opened, which were once barren and neglected, 
 as in the world of nature every thing teems with life, and 
 affords full scope for philosophical research, so we may 
 derive instruction from the meanest object. This is w’ell 
 calculated to inspire sentiments of wonder and admiration 
 at the wisdom, pow'er, and goodness of our all-wise Cieator. 
 But if these are so fully displayed in the works of his hands, 
 how much more so in the effects of his governing power. 
 It is impossible to read the history of a nation, w ithout being 
 convinced of this truth; and while we are often struck with 
 the surprising and unforeseen events which take their use 
 from causes apparently remote and unconnected, we must 
 admit that they only furnish new and striking proofs of a 
 superintending Providence, while they form another link m 
 that grand chain of wonders which will one day be disclosed 
 to our astonished view ?” 
 
258 
 
 Memoir of Miss Jane Bury. 
 
 “ With these reflections,” she proceeds, “ we may advan¬ 
 tageously open the pages of history, but in no other way 
 will they afford any real satisfaction. We shall often be 
 left in dan.ness and perplexity, unless we accept willingly 
 the light of revelation. The glare of human reason is°an 
 tgnis jaiuus ; it leads astray into labyrinths of error; the more 
 we follow it, the more we recede from the path of truth.” 
 
 In the preceding remarks, we perceive a visible contra¬ 
 riety to the natural course of mankind. Man, like the demo¬ 
 niac who dwelt among the tombs, is prone to reverse the 
 sentiments thus expressed. Instead of depreciating his 
 own powers, and subjecting his reason to the control of 
 revelation, he calls his reason, which is very darkness light • 
 and the oracles of truth, the only illuminated path to heaven* 
 darkness. And it is only as the mind is influenced by divine 
 grace, that a restoration to sanity and spiritual vigour is 
 effected. Then only is it that divine effects are visible, and 
 that the happy recipient will sit “ at the feet of Jesus” 
 clothed, and “ in his right mind.” How impressive is the 
 inducement for all, in youth especially, to seek transforming 
 influence, and to the eternal renunciation of every deceitful 
 gleam, to lift up the earnest supplication ,— 1 “ Oh ! that mv 
 ways were directed to keep thy statutes .” “ If ” sa y s Dr 
 
 Manton, “ men were more sensible of their obligation, we 
 should have more prayers of the kind ” 
 
 Mrs. More’s Strictures on the Modern System of Female 
 Education, particularly chap. vn. vol. i. seem to have been 
 read with special attention, and no inconsiderable part was, 
 with some variations, transcribed. 1 
 
 ^^20 Miss Bury commenced a series of memoranda 
 entitled Extracts and Observations.” The title sufficiently 
 designates their object, and a perusal of the whole amply dis¬ 
 covers a combination of enviable qualities. The following 
 selection is characteristic : it originated in the Life of Wes- 
 ey, then recently published. Having freely commented on 
 
 ESL^SSSi- “ “ ,l * “■ 
 
 his ambition was very different to that which influences’con- 
 querois or poets. It was a true and laudable ambition 
 which made him devote all his time and talents to the service* 
 
 neS Tr l f0r the / 00 l d of hi « fallow creatures, without ex- 
 f * £ °/ h °P in g f or the applause of the world ; he looked 
 to a higher recompense. Such ambition was worthy of 
 
259 
 
 Memoir of Miss Jane Bury. 
 
 an immortal creature; and it would be well for mankind, if 
 more were actuated by its powerful claims. They, like him, 
 would then seek to promote God’s glory in the salvation of 
 souls.” 
 
 “ We should be particularly careful,” she proceeds/' how 
 we judge of the motives which influence those who are 
 engaged in public lile. Actions may be weighed and cen¬ 
 sured, but their secret springs ought to be held sacred, as 
 know n only to him who is acquainted with the heart.” 
 
 ^ e now return to the journal, and select a few 7 extracts 
 almost at random. 
 
 “ May 14, 1821.—The author of Miss Hamilton's Me¬ 
 moirs relates, that Miss H. considered herself as having 
 received an education superior to what is usually allotted to 
 young persons of her sex and station, since she "had learned 
 to think. The want of this appears to be one of the great 
 defects in the modern system of education. \ oung persons 
 are taught all necessary outward accomplishments, and 
 many which are superfluous and useless, but very few there 
 are who have learned to employ their reasoning faculties so 
 as to fulfil any of the great ends for which they were 
 designed ; few attain that knowledge which, as Miss More 
 emphatically expresses it, ‘is burnt in.’” 
 
 “ June 18, 1821.—I have just begun to read Bennett on 
 the Gospel Dispensation, and hope that, by prayer and 
 meditation, the work may be of great benefit to me. The 
 author shews, that the whole of revelation is a moral plan 
 for exercising the natural powers. It is remarked, that in 
 almost every view which can be taken of God’s revealing his 
 will, unbridled vanity might conceive of great possible addi¬ 
 tions to, and emendations of, what is actually found in the 
 inspired volume. It cannot be doubted, that if God had 
 seen fit, he could easily have revealed divine truths, and 
 have exhibited the blessings of salvation in such a manner, 
 as would irresistibly have instructed men to believe and 
 embrace them. And in our self-flattering imagination, how 
 ready are we to exclaim. What a complication of unpleasant 
 and painful circumstances might thus have been prevented! 
 W hat facilities to the acquisition of knowledge, what sub¬ 
 sidiary means to the full assurance of understanding in the 
 mysteries of the gospel, might thus have been afforded. 
 What harmony of views, what uniformity of system, what 
 unison of hearts in the possession of religious truth, might 
 have been secured! But the Author of revelation has dis¬ 
 posed otherwise; and it was evidently in the exercise of his 
 
 
260 
 
 Memoir of Miss Jane Bun/. 
 
 wisdom that he adopted this mode of procedure towards 
 intelligent creatures, though sunk in ignorance, guilt, and 
 wretchedness, because he saw it most consistent with their 
 rational nature, and eventually best adapted to the wise ends 
 of his moral government.” 
 
 “ In this view the gospel dispensation, which includes the 
 whole revelation of God’s will to sinful man, together with 
 the outward means which he has appointed for them to wait 
 upon him in, is a moral plan of exercising their natural 
 powers, and is closely connected with his moral govern¬ 
 ment of intelligent, accountable creatures, the principles of 
 which are equity and wisdom, and the subjects of which 
 must be dealt with as moral agents, not impelled by neces¬ 
 sity even to a right mode of acting, or rendered incapable of 
 acting otherwise, but instructed and invited to a proper 
 mode of acting by suitable means and motives, or moral 
 considerations of duty and interest prescribed through the 
 medium of the understanding. Thus arises a proper ground 
 of responsibility.” 
 
 Again she writes: “ Oct. 26, 1821.—This day I enter 
 upon my 21st year, and am, therefore, led to make some 
 reflections. I cannot but notice, with serious consideration, 
 the rapidity with which the different portions of my time 
 [move on] and mark my progress to the end of my days. 
 
 “ It seems as if the last two or three years of my life had 
 rolled on with greater speed than any of the former; but 
 this may perhaps be accounted for, from the uniform tenor 
 of my life, and the nature of my employments, which leave 
 not an hour unoccupied. 
 
 “ I am now arrived at a period which, some years ago, I 
 should have thought the utmost boundary of my prospect 
 into futurity, and probably at that time anticipated that I 
 should be hardly the same being. But how vain are the 
 speculations of childhood and youth! Instead of finding 
 myself arrived at that maturity ofjudgment which I expected, 
 instead of having those fixed and steady principles which I 
 hoped to attain, truth compels me to acknowledge that I 
 am yet very ignorant of many things which I ought to know, 
 relating to the affairs of the present life, and that my mind 
 is filled with doubts and fears concerning the important 
 realities of a never-ending state of existence hereafter. 
 Surely it becomes me to inquire how I have spent the past, 
 since so large a portion of these fleeting shadows have dis¬ 
 appeared, and I know not how many remain. I fear I have 
 not fulfilled tire end of my being, in living to the glory of 
 
261 
 
 Memoir of Miss Jane Bun/. 
 
 God, and making preparation for an eternal state; I desire, 
 therefore, to enter upon this year with more solemn consi¬ 
 derations than 1 have ever yet had, and to make religion my 
 chief concern. 1 have reason to be thankful, if iliave, in 
 some degree, been made sensible of my danger, and of the 
 evil of my heart, but want to feel that deep humiliation on 
 account of sin, which leads to sincere and genuine repent¬ 
 ance, and that fear of falling into sin, which arises from a 
 knowledge of its dreadful nature. 
 
 “ May the great searcher of hearts make me more and 
 more acquainted with the wickedness of my heart; and that 
 I may daily and hourly supplicate the direction and assist¬ 
 ance of the holy Spirit, without which I can do nothing 
 May the Spirit of truth guide me into all truth, that I may 
 no longer walk in darkness, ignorance, and error, but as 1 
 grow in years, grow' in grace, and in the knowledge of my 
 God and Saviour Jesus Christ, to whom I desire to commit 
 all I have and hope for, through time and eternity. Amen.” 
 
 The next extract may be read with profit, and its recogni¬ 
 tion of principle furnishes a valuable clue to the writer’s 
 state of mind. 
 
 “ Feb. 7, 1822.—Having accidently overheard a question 
 proposed. What is the distinction to be made between the 
 amusements of the theatre and card-table, and those of 
 drawing and music, 1 have been led to consider the answer 
 that I should give to this question; and how I would make 
 it appear, that a professing Christian may be justified in 
 pursuing the latter, and rejecting the former. I intend to 
 confine myself entirely to what may arise in my own mind, 
 without referring to the opinion of any author; because I wish 
 afterwards to ascertain if my own reasonings are sufficiently 
 forcible to produce a conviction, or, at least, to silence the 
 objections of those who would endeavour to bring against 
 me the charge of inconsistency.— 
 
 “ I shall begin with theatrical amusements, and consider 
 their use, design, and evil tendency. To trace the progress 
 of improvement in the stage, from the first actor, who, 
 mounted on a cart, performed in the streets of Athens, would 
 be foreign to the purpose; and were it not so, would suffi¬ 
 ciently attest my incompetency for the task. It is sufficient 
 to consider the end that was originally intended by these 
 public exhibitions, and whether there is the same reason to 
 justify their continuance. 
 
 “ If we attentively observe the customs and manners of 
 the ancients, as recorded in history, it will be'seen that their 
 
262 
 
 Memoir of Miss Jane Bun/. 
 
 habits took a tincture from their national character, and 
 even their amusements may be traced up to the same source. 
 Were they a warlike people? Their delight was in martial 
 spectacles, and in those hardy and vigorous exercises which 
 fit the body for trials and danger. Were they peaceful? 
 Agriculture was their chief employment; and rural sports 
 their chief amusements. Were they possessed of inventive 
 genius? The arts were cultivated with eagerness, and every 
 thing tending to promote their advancement was looked up 
 to as of primary importance. Thus the Athenians were 
 particularly addicted to learning and sciences, and became 
 thereby the most polished state of Greece. 
 
 “ In order to contribute to the advancement of learning, 
 they justly paid particular attention to the improvement of 
 their language, and oratory was held in high estimation. 
 
 “ To this cause may be ascribed the invention of theatri¬ 
 cal amusements, which were, at first, mere exhibitions of 
 oratorial power, accompanied by such a modulation of voice 
 and gesture as was calculated to impress the sentiments 
 more forcibly upon the hearers. 
 
 “ The subjects of such harangues were the more adapted 
 to excite attention, being generally drawn from human life; 
 they were designed eloquently to set forth the advantages 
 of virtue, the duty of patriotism, and endeavouring to con¬ 
 tribute to its welfare and happiness; while, on the con¬ 
 trary, vice was painted in the most glowing colours, and 
 depraved habits and principles were so exposed, as that by 
 becoming just subjects of abhorrence, feelings of disgust and 
 detestation might be excited. 
 
 “ If such were the causes and the design of theatrical 
 representations, it is surely necessary, before we advocate 
 them on the same principles, to endeavour to prove how 
 far they can be applied to the present times. I have heard 
 it alleged, that it is very useful to attend the theatre, for the 
 purpose of acquiring a taste for good oratory, of forming 
 the ear to a correct pronunciation and a just delivery, and 
 that it is a mean of preserving our language from corrup¬ 
 tions and innovations. But this argument appears so weak 
 as hardly to require refutation. Were we destitute of every 
 other mean of preventing such consequences, this might be 
 resorted to as an expedient; but while we can bring forward 
 other claims of a superior nature, we contend that it should 
 give place to them. 
 
 “ Let those who desire to obtain a taste for good oratory, 
 listen to our legislators standing forth as champions in 
 
263 
 
 Memoir of Mias Jane Bury. 
 
 defence of their country, proclaiming her freedom, and con¬ 
 tending for her rights; armed, not with martial weapons, 
 but with the persuasive eloquence of truth, a patriotic zeal 
 glowing in their hearts. Let them go and hear our advo¬ 
 cates pleading the cause of the injured and defenceless; or 
 let them direct their steps to the sanctuary, and hear the 
 ministers of our holy religion engaged in a more glorious 
 theme, and pleading a far nobler cause, with all the elo¬ 
 quence which language can command, and all the force of 
 the majesty of truth proclaiming to a ruined word, Jesus 
 Christ and him crucified. 
 
 “ But supposing it justifiable on the grounds above men¬ 
 tioned, to attend theatrical amusements, a mind at all in¬ 
 fluenced by religious principles would find objections suffi¬ 
 cient to outweigh every other consideration. The theatre is 
 one of the haunts of vice and immorality. This ought to 
 influence those who are instructed by the volume of inspira¬ 
 tion, not ‘ to enter into the path of the wicked, nor to go in 
 the way of evil men, but to avoid it, to pass by it, to turn 
 from it and pass away.’ 
 
 “ It may be urged, that it is possible to attend the theatre 
 without associating with the gay and thoughtless, and with¬ 
 out witnessing the licentious scenes which take place in this 
 abode of impiety. Granting the possibility, is it not enough 
 to know that all kinds of wickedness are encouraged secretly, 
 if not exhibited openly? And, knowing this, is it not sanc¬ 
 tioning such practices to frequent the place of their resort; 
 or at least, is it not declaring to the world that vice and im¬ 
 morality are not held in their just abhorrence? But for the 
 sake of argument, let us concede all the objections which 
 have been brought forward, and suppose that theatres were 
 conducted on the best possible plan for the preservation of 
 the public morals, and were even deemed unexceptionable 
 with respect to deviation from public virtue, they would not 
 then be fit places for the disciple of Jesus. The dissipation 
 and vanity the Christian would there meet, but ill accord 
 with that devotional spirit which he should cherish. How 
 would he afterwards be fitted for retirement and self-exami¬ 
 nation, when the world and its concerns should be shut out, 
 and he must seek for satisfaction and enjoyment in higher 
 pursuits ? Our blessed Saviour exhorted his disciples not to 
 love the world, nor the things of the xoorld. In public places 
 of amusement, every thing is calculated to cherish and in¬ 
 crease that love. All that can please the eye and charm the 
 ear, all that can captivate the senses and produce admira- 
 
264 
 
 Memoir of Miss Jane Bury. 
 
 tion and delight, is exhibited, and contributes to entrance 
 the soul, and make it forgetful of its immortal nature, to 
 cause the Christian to overlook his condition as a pilgrim 
 and a stranger upon earth, seeking abetter country. 
 
 “ We would here draw a line of demarcation, and attempt 
 to establish the opinion, that those amusements may be in¬ 
 dulged in, which have not a tendency to increase a love of 
 the world, and consequently to cause a disrelish for spiritual 
 engagements, but which are rather calculated to raise the 
 affections to the gracious Author of all good, and to quicken 
 and promote a spirit of devotion and praise; in short, those 
 which do not stand opposed to the highest interests of an 
 immortal creature, but elevate his mind to more noble pur¬ 
 suits than the passing scenes of time, and can, without 
 regret, be exchanged for the awful realities of eternity. 
 
 “ With respect to the card-table, little need be added, as 
 many of the arguments before advanced may be applied to 
 this amusement, and facts are not wanting to render the 
 application forcible. But its votaries, who will contend 
 that their favourite pleasure is an innocent one, I would ask, 
 * Can that be innocent, which wastes the most precious gift 
 bestowed upon us? And to those who have no better reason 
 to bring forward, than that they engage in it to fill up their 
 time, I would appeal, * Are there no regions in the world of 
 nature yet unexplored, no wonders that remain to be un¬ 
 folded, no stores apparently inexhaustible, and which are 
 well calculated to fill the mind with more exalted thoughts 
 of that incomprehensible Being who made all things, and to 
 awaken towards him feelings of adoration and reverence V ” 
 
 '* While such subjects as these claim attention, can any 
 feel justified in spending a moment in shuffling about 
 painted paper? One would almost imagine that the title of 
 reasonable creature had been abandoned, before such an 
 outrage could be committed—even against reason ! 
 
 “ But it may be urged, that this amusement is only re¬ 
 sorted to in company where it would be impossible to intro¬ 
 duce subjects of a literary nature, and where you must either 
 join the party, or remain unemployed, and probably give 
 offence, not to say induce the charge of singularity.—Were 
 this the case, it would be better to remain unemployed, than 
 to sanction that which serves only to kill time: no one, 
 however, has occasion so to plead, but those who are afraid 
 to look into their own hearts, who never watch their thoughts, 
 and scrutinize their actions, in order to ascertain the motives 
 which give rise to them. 
 
265 
 
 Memoir of Miss Jane Bury. 
 
 “ The fear of giving offence, or of being accounted singu¬ 
 lar, is an argument which can only influence weak minds, 
 and if we allow it any force in one instance, the same may 
 certainly be admitted in others, and it will at once justify 
 conformity to all the maxims of the world. 
 
 “ It now remains to consider, what distinction is to be 
 made between these amusements, and those of drawing and 
 music? And here it may be observed, that the exception 
 is only granted, provided the subjects of it are not carried 
 to excess. 
 
 “ We know it may be objected, that too great a love of 
 music has been attended with effects as pernicious as by 
 those amusements which we have condemned; and we per¬ 
 fectly agree with those who deem the oratorio as improper 
 a place for the Christian as the theatre. 
 
 “ But why should it be inferred, that because a good 
 thing is abused, it becomes criminal. It is the abuse of it, 
 from whence arises the criminality. Who will affirm, that 
 what the great Creator has deigned to employ as a mean of 
 imparting pleasure to his rational creatures, and as tending 
 to elevate their views of his infinite goodness and perfec¬ 
 tion, has any thing improper in its nature ? Yet however 
 strong- the assertion may appear, we must tacitly acquiesce 
 in it, if we disallow of music and drawing on account of the 
 impropriety of the amusements objected to. If we see no 
 beauty in the various appearances of nature, the rich colour¬ 
 ing of the sky, the exquisite tints and delicate shades of a 
 flower, or the different objects combined in the finished 
 landscape; if we derive no pleasure in listening to the music 
 of some sweet songster, whose melodious notes seem to be 
 the voice of gratitude and praise, let us be contented to 
 resign the accomplishments of drawing and music, for they 
 will then cease to afford us innocent gratification. If the 
 pleasure derived from their pursuit, arise from no nobler 
 cause than ambition, or a vain desire to obtain the praise 
 and approbation of men, it ought not to be cherished, but 
 abandoned, as springing from a sensual and impure source. 
 But if our ear is indeed tuned to the harmony of creation, 
 and our sight is ever ready to contemplate the wonders it 
 displays, we may, without injury to ourselves, cultivate 
 these sources of rational enjoyment, so far as they interfere 
 not with higher duties and the great business o£ life. If on 
 a review of the feelings that have been excited while indulg¬ 
 ing in these amusements, we find that they have not dimin¬ 
 ished, but rather increased our love to God and to his ser- 
 
26G 
 
 Memoir of Miss Jane Bun/. 
 
 vice, that they have awakened zeal, and quickened a spirit 
 of devotion, we may affirm that the time occupied has not 
 been spent in vain.” 
 
 Not only do the preceding pages manifest the superior 
 capacity and attainments of Miss Bury, but they also dis¬ 
 cover, as we have just seen, an habitual regard to higher 
 principles than those of ambition, or literary fame. The 
 tenor of her remarks, as already quoted, shew a state of 
 feeling, and a conviction, too refined, and too spiritual, to be 
 conceived of apart from religious excellence. It is true, 
 there is among her papers no distinctive narration of a 
 “ new birth unto righteousnessbut it may be observed, 
 that when an individual has been early inured to habits of 
 mental culture, not to say, trained up in the nurture and 
 admonition of the Lord, it is commonly no easy matter, and, 
 indeed, frequently as impossible, to detail the all-important 
 process, as it is to define the progress of natural light, or to 
 mark, with accuracy and distinctness, the exact boundary 
 between night and day. However, there is safety and wis¬ 
 dom in ascending from effects to their causes, not only to 
 satisfy the inquiries of curiosity, but to judge correctly, 
 especially in things pertaining to the heavenly kingdom. 
 “ By their fruits,” said our Lord, “ shall ye know them.”— 
 “ Miss Bury,” observes one who knew her well, “ from in¬ 
 fancy was of a delicate constitution, possessing more than 
 common irascibility of temper, arising, perhaps, principally 
 from much nervous irritability; but this, even before the 
 years of childhood were past, was considerably overcome 
 by her natural good sense, seconding the restraints of edu¬ 
 cation. And, it is remarked by her mother, were there no 
 other evidence that in after years she became the subject 
 of a change of heart, than the entire subjugation of this 
 besetting sin, it would be quite satisfactory.” 
 
 Where a change of heart has been wrought, the mighty 
 event represented in scripture, as a “ new creation,” cannot, 
 with the appearance of rationality or piety, be ascribed to 
 any other influence than that which is divine. Nor can a 
 better or more infallible evidence be required, than “ the 
 fruits of righteousness.” Instead, therefore, of pronouncing 
 a certain course of feeling, or a conformity to certain accre¬ 
 dited modes of expression or experience, indispensable to 
 furnish ground for the hopes of charity, let the inspired 
 standard be adhered to with unvarying stedfastness. Thus 
 will be dispelled, as with a ray of brightness, all the mist, 
 and confusion, and error, which arise from elevating the 
 
2G7 
 
 Memoir of Miss Jane Bury . 
 
 experience of one as a standard for all, or attempting to 
 define, with precision, that which being necessarily myste¬ 
 rious is best explained, as it is best discoverable—by its 
 operations . “ The wind hloweth where it listeth, and thou 
 
 hearest the sound thereof, but const not tell whence it cometh, 
 and whither it goeth; so is every one that is born of the Spirit.” 
 
 The Christianity of Miss Bury will be most fitly mani¬ 
 fested, in addition to the uniform excellence of her deport¬ 
 ment, by some further selections from her journal. With 
 these, therefore, we proceed. 
 
 “ How much,’ 5 she writes, April 2d, “ have I reason to 
 deplore the hardness and insensibility of my heart. I know 
 that nothing but divine grace can enable me to do what is 
 right, yet how backward am I in seeking assistance to my 
 weak and vain endeavours. The truths that strike my mind 
 forcibly, and rouse my attention, are, by the most trivial 
 occurrence, forgotten; or, at least, deprived of their full 
 weight and importance. Such is the hardening nature of 
 sin. Conscience is sometimes awakened, but the evil pro¬ 
 pensities of a corrupt nature prevail in lulling it into its 
 former state, and enaeavour to stifle those vain regrets which 
 the heart, when converted, cannot suppress. If we could 
 become, for a time, abstracted from sensible objects, there 
 would be some reason to hope that good impressions, when 
 once received, would not be so soon effaced; we should be 
 enabled to collect all the arguments that might be brought 
 forward in order to strengthen and confirm the wavering 
 resolution; and then, perhaps, we need not complain that our 
 goodness was as the morning cloud and as the early dew 
 that passeth away. But as it is impossible to be totally 
 disengaged from the objects which are continually surround¬ 
 ing us, there is greater occasion for constant watchfulness , 
 that while our minds are engaged with earthly cares, we may 
 not lose sight of those important concerns which involve 
 the eternal interests of the soul! It is not only the outward 
 actions that must be severely scrutinized, but the thoughts 
 and desires of our hearts; which, as they are only known to 
 Him who searcheth the heart, must be judged by the word 
 of truth, in order to ascertain whether they are pure in his 
 sight. In this difficult task, we have more especial need 
 for divine assistance, than in the regulation of the outward 
 conduct; for while the latter may be influenced by a desire 
 to appear fair before men, the former can only proceed from 
 the fear of God, and a desire to do his will in all things. 
 Our prayer should be—“ Let the words of my mouth, and 
 
 VOL. vm.— no. 3. u 
 
268 
 
 Memoir of Miss Jane Bury . 
 
 the meditations of my heart, be acceptable in thy sight, O 
 Lordand, if offered up with sincerity, we might hope for 
 that delightful consolation which the psalmist experienced, 
 when he said, * In the multitude of my thoughts, &c.’ ”* 
 
 Shortly afterwards she writes,—“ Another awful provi¬ 
 dence has occurred, which may well awaken serious reflec¬ 
 tions. Am I prepared for death, should it come thus sud¬ 
 den and unexpected? Should I soon be called off the stage 
 of life, can I hope for admission into the heavenly kingdom? 
 Is not the fear of death an intimation that all is not right? 
 But what can take away this fear; what can deprive the 
 enemy of his deadly sting, and cause him to be viewed as a 
 peaceful messenger ? The apostle says, that the sting of 
 death is sin. It is then sin which causes death to be looked 
 at as an object of terror, and sin must be removed ere it will 
 be disarmed. We must have a living faith in the merits 
 and atonement of our Saviour, placing our whole depend¬ 
 ence on him who hath loved us, and washed away our sins in 
 his blood” 
 
 The following record gives a still more especial promi¬ 
 nence to those sentiments which are dear to the heart of a 
 Christian, and, when fully realized, indicate no unenviable 
 state of religious attainment. 
 
 “ Surely there is no occasion to complain, that opportuni¬ 
 ties are wanting that may serve to break down the stubborn 
 pride of the heart, and to warn us of the importance of cul¬ 
 tivating that first of Christian graces—humility. Yet how 
 frequently have we to deplore that these opportunities affect 
 us so little; or, if the impression be at first strong, it is only 
 momentary, and has no abiding influence on our future con¬ 
 duct: we return insensibly to the obdurate course which 
 was so lately condemned. This perhaps arises from our 
 humility being only a conviction of the understanding, and 
 not of the heart; and if it be so, it will avail us little. For 
 our minds may be so far enlightened by an acquaintance 
 with scripture, and by the experience which results from 
 observation, and a comparison made with others, as to make 
 us feel sensible of our many deficiencies, and ready enough 
 to allow the existence of evil; yet if this knowledge be not 
 practically applied, if it do not so influence as to make us 
 
 * Miss Bury has here recognized an important fact, worthy of the 
 maturest consideration. The active exercise of Christian principles 
 is adapted to the present state: these ill accord with monastic se¬ 
 clusion, and going out of the world. It is the overcoming believer, 
 not the coward, who will receive the crown. 
 
269 
 
 Memoir of Miss Jane Bury. 
 
 aim after a growing conformity to the Christian character 
 in all things; if it do not humble us before our heavenly 
 Father, it will be of no use,—but rather serve to our con¬ 
 demnation. How much do we need the continual influence 
 of divine grace, to subdue in us all vain confidence, and to 
 instruct us in the knowledge of ourselves, that we may learn 
 the vanity of trusting in our own endeavours:— in the Lord 
 alone is there either righteousness or strength. But such is the 
 corruption of our evil nature, that we are continually bring¬ 
 ing forward some new claim to merit, and our foolish hearts 
 are continually suggesting some weak pretension to unme¬ 
 rited favours. These frail supports may sustain for a short 
 time, but they will be found insufficient in the hour of temp¬ 
 tation.” 
 
 “ Genuine humility will influence our behaviour towards 
 our fellow-creatures, and teach us that we are nothing, can 
 do nothing, and have nothing to hope for, but through the 
 free and sovereign grace of God, by Jesus Christ our Lord 
 and Saviour.” 
 
 How impressive too are the following observations :— 
 
 “ It is a truth admitted by the wise and experienced, but 
 seldom practised even by those who are most forward to 
 maintain its just claims,—that were persons, who call them¬ 
 selves the disciples of Christ, more anxious to become 
 thoroughly acquainted with their own hearts, than to con¬ 
 demn others, there would not be so many who are merely 
 professing Christians, and who exemplify so little of the 
 power of religion in their daily conduct and conversation. 
 The reason of which is obvious: when viewing the exterior 
 conduct of others with a severe and scrutinizing eye, we are 
 apt to draw comparisons which are sure to terminate to our 
 own advantage, and thus we become blind to ourselves, or, 
 as the emphatical language of our Saviour expresses it, 
 we view the mote in our brother's eye, without considering the 
 beam that is in our own. In fact, it is the want of our turn¬ 
 ing our thoughts within, that is the cause of our remaining 
 so ignorant and deceived with respect to our true charac¬ 
 ters. Were we to keep in constant review the vain and 
 foolish thoughts which have so frequently arisen, and the 
 temptations which we have so often suffered ourselves to fall 
 into, we should be less liable to censure others for what we 
 ourselves are guilty of, and it would tend to break down 
 that sinful vanity which will often persuade us that we are 
 wiser or better than they. So prone is the human heart to 
 deceive itself, and so unwilling to acknowledge the deception, 
 
270 
 
 Memoir of Miss Jane Bury, 
 
 that it is continually advancing; some new claim to supe¬ 
 riority. But instead of observing others with a design to 
 form a comparison which may terminate to our own advan¬ 
 tage, if we only determine to view ourselves by the word of 
 truth, and submit to the decision of the holy scriptures, as 
 a perfect standard by which we must hereafter be judged, 
 we shall find sufficient evidence that we have nothing to 
 boast of. “ The thoughts and imaginations of man's heart are 
 evil, and that continually Experience testifies the truth 
 of this assertion; and conscience, as a faithful witness, con¬ 
 firms the charge, though pride is unwilling to acknowledge 
 it.” 
 
 Again she observes: “ I have reason to be ashamed, and 
 to feel humbled at the consideration, that within these last 
 few days I have many times, on very trifling occasions, 
 
 f iven way to wrong tempers, and indulged in sinful anger. 
 
 hough, perhaps, imperceptible to others, it was not less 
 culpable, and served to awaken the bad passions of the soul, 
 and to create discord and tumult, instead of that peace and 
 serenity which are so desirable. When I was a child, my 
 wicked temper used to break forth on every sacrifice of my 
 will, and rendered me disobedient to my parents, quarrel¬ 
 some and unkind to my sisters, and unamiable in all my 
 conduct. Now, to all outward appearance, the fury of my 
 temper is subdued, my angry passions have lost that ascen¬ 
 dancy which they once had, but they still lurk within, and 
 are ready, when occasion calls them forth, to prove that they 
 have yet dominion over me, and can exercise it to the 
 injury of my peace. If we would endeavour to ascertain 
 the cause which restrains our evil tempers from breaking 
 out in visible acts, it will mostly be found to proceed from 
 pride —the source of every sinful passion—and not from a 
 dread of the consequences which might ensue. We find, 
 therefore, that when the restraint is not necessary, (in our 
 opinion,) and we can act without fear of injuring our cha¬ 
 racters with those whose esteem we wish to obtain, it is not 
 often practised. But how seldom do we reflect, that by 
 such deception, we must sin against our heavenly Father, 
 and grieve his holy Spirit. Oh! that I could feel more 
 deeply the dreadful consequences of offending a Being so 
 great and holy. I have just cause for humiliation, when I 
 consider how continually I am transgressing his command¬ 
 ments, and doing what is evil in his sight. May this be my 
 constant and fervent petition to a throne of grace—‘ Create in 
 me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me,’ ” 
 
271 
 
 Memoir of Miss Jane Bury. 
 
 On commencing the last year of her earthly existence, 
 the record is full, and, in connexion with the approaching, 
 though quite unforeseen event, will furnish materials for 
 interesting and beneficial reflection. 
 
 “ Owing,” she writes, “ to the bustle occasioned by a 
 removal of our habitation, and a variety of other circum¬ 
 stances which have tended to dissipate my mind, and ren¬ 
 der it unfit for serious reflection, I have neither found time 
 nor inclination to pursue my usual plan of setting down my 
 thoughts. Thus I have suffered an important season to pass, 
 and another stage of my life to begin, without taking notice 
 of it, though so calculated to excite meditation, and to call 
 for strict and faithful self-examination. In reviewing the 
 events of the past year, I have reason to exclaim, that good¬ 
 ness and mercy have followed me. While so many have 
 been awfully snatched away by death; while so many fami¬ 
 lies have been deprived of their principal support, or have 
 had to mourn over the graves of those who are cut off in 
 early youth, and by their removal have blighted the pros¬ 
 pects of their fond parents through life, I desire to record, 
 with gratitude, the preservation of my friends and con¬ 
 nexions, and the continuance of every earthly comfort. Oh 1 
 that these undeserved mercies may not be any longer passed 
 over in forgetfulness and unconcern. May they awaken in 
 my heart feelings of devout thankfulness to the great Au¬ 
 thor of every good and perfect gift, and may I be enabled 
 to shew forth his praise by a life devoted to his service ! 
 
 “ But while I recount these mercies, I would not forget 
 the uncertain tenure on which I hold every blessing. An¬ 
 other year may deprive me of some earthly comfort, or I my¬ 
 self may be called into an eternal state. Of how much 
 importance is it, then, that I should seek an interest in those 
 things which can alone support me in the hour of trial. 
 How earnestly should I seek to fulfil the great end of my 
 existence, to live to the glory of God! Oh ! may it be my 
 chief concern, henceforth, for I have too long neglected it, 
 and lived after the flesh. May the Spirit lead me to the 
 true and saving knowledge of Him, whose I am, and whom I 
 am bound to serve.” 
 
 The next effort of her pen was to note the engagements 
 of the Christian sabbath. Instead of pursuing vanity, or 
 esteeming the sacred hours “ a weariness ,” she writes thus 
 of its occupations. 
 
 “ Last sabbath day I enjoyed a great privilege, which I 
 trust was not thrown away. I heard two excellent sermons. 
 
272 Memoir of Miss Jane Bury. 
 
 from one of the faithful ministers of the gospel of Jesus 
 Christ. As I have so seldom, of late* listened to the truth 
 as it is in Jesus, delivered from the pulpit, they were enjoyed 
 with a superior relish, and I shall endeavour to recall some 
 of the leading sentiments conveyed in them.” 
 
 “ The morning discourse was founded upon the 19th 
 verse of the sixth chapter of the epistle to the Ephesians, 
 ‘ Take the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.’ 
 Mr. R. observed, that the Christian’s warfare was a spiritual 
 one. Hence the apostle exhorts the followers of Christ to 
 put on the whole armour of God, and closes his exhortation 
 by the words of the text.” 
 
 “ He considered—First, Why the word of God is com¬ 
 pared to a sword ?—1st. Because, as the sword of the warrior, 
 it serves to keep off the distant attacks of the enemy. The 
 Christian will often find himself engaged in this species of 
 combat by those who dare not come to a closer engage¬ 
 ment, but who, by secret insinuations, or artful suspicions, 
 seek to undermine his faith, and make him distrust the pro¬ 
 mises of God. But the word of God is a shield, and a sure 
 weapon of defence, by which he may put to flight these dis¬ 
 tant foes, and parry off the blows which are aimed from afar. 
 2dly. As a sword, it is also effectual in close combat. 
 When our judgments are called in question, our faith con¬ 
 demned, and the hope of the gospel, in which we trust, is 
 the subject of contempt and ridicule, we must not use reta¬ 
 liation, but apply to the word of God for refuge; and with 
 its blessed truths confound and disperse our most daring 
 enemies. We have the example of our blessed Redeemer 
 to encourage us, who, when he was tempted by the great 
 adversary of souls, replied always in the words of the scrip-, 
 tures. 3dly. As a sword, the word of God is not only a 
 defensive but an offensive weapon, and is found effectual in 
 cutting down all our foes. The apostle says, * the word of 
 God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any two- 
 edged sword,’ &c. With this weapon in our hands, we 
 must war against all our carnal and spiritual enemies, our 
 lusts and passions which rise up against us to disturb our 
 peace, and especially, when assailed by doubts and tempta¬ 
 tions, which the great enemy of souls suggested, in order to 
 lead us into sin.” 
 
 “ Secondly. Consider why the word of God is called the 
 sword of the Spirit.—1 st. Because it is a spiritual weapon: it 
 came from God; or, to use the metaphor, it was sent from the 
 armoury of heaven, and is the workmanship of God. The 
 
 ’ 
 
273 
 
 Memoir of Miss Jane Bury. 
 
 prophets and apostles were inspired by the holy Spirit, 
 when they wrote, and went on their mission, or the former 
 could not have predicted events which occurred in succeed¬ 
 ing ages, nor the latter have confirmed their divine com¬ 
 mission by the miracles which they wrought. The word of 
 God is the sword of the Spirit, because without the influ¬ 
 ence of the divine Spirit, even this heavenly warfare will 
 become of no effect. To establish this fact, a reference was 
 made to the first missionaries to Greenland, and the South 
 Sea islands, whose labours were for many years unsuccess¬ 
 ful—though they possessed this spiritual weapon—till it was 
 wielded by the almighty arm of God; when it became irre¬ 
 sistible. It is the same with individuals who sit under the 
 sound of the gospel; they derive no spiritual benefit from it till 
 it is blessed by the resistless energy of the holy Spirit. It is 
 then that the word of God is powerful, and sharper than 
 any two-edged sword, for it pierces the conscience; it 
 lays open the inward parts; it pierces the stony heart, 
 and brings it to the Saviour: it breaks down the strong 
 holds of Satan, and brings every thought into captivity 
 unto the obedience of Christ. 2nd. What is meant by 
 taking this sword? It implies that we have it in our pos¬ 
 session. Christians of the present day ought to be sensi¬ 
 ble of the blessings they enjoy, in having the word of God 
 so readily obtained, when they remember that their ances¬ 
 tors only enjoyed this privilege by the payment of a very 
 large sum; yet so much was the Bible valued among the 
 primitive Christians, that they would rather have parted with 
 the whole of their property, than have given up those por¬ 
 tions of the scriptures which they possessed. 3rd. To take 
 this sword, implies also that it is in use. It will be of no 
 avail if we have the Bible in our possession, and yet neglect 
 to study its contents. We must bring into constant and 
 daily use, and endeavour to store our minds with select 
 portions of it, which may be profitably applied when occa¬ 
 sion requires: for the holy scriptures contain all things 
 necessary for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, and for 
 instruction in righteousness, that the man of God may be 
 perfect, thoroughly furnished unto all good works. But we 
 must study the blessed word of God with humility and ear¬ 
 nest prayer for the illumination of the holy Spirit, without 
 which we shall derive no real benefit from it. We must 
 earnestly seek to be taught of God, that his word may be 
 made effectual to our complete salvation.” 
 
 The other discourse was from Romans, chap. i. 19. The 
 
274 
 
 Memoir of Miss Jane Bury. 
 
 lust shall live by faith. The Mosaic and the Christian dis¬ 
 pensations are substantially the same. The law was a sha¬ 
 dow of good things to come. Hence our Saviour and his 
 apostles, in their ministry, continually referred to the law 
 and the prophets, as bearing testimony to the things which 
 they declared. Thus Paul makes the same reference in the 
 verse from which the text is taken. As it is written, the just 
 shall live by faith. 1st. Consider the character of a just per¬ 
 son. He is one that is free from condemnation; our first parents 
 before their transgression were entitled to this character, and, 
 consequently, could lay claim to everlasting happiness, but 
 no individual since their fall is able to make the same claim, 
 because no one was ever able to fulfil the requisitions of the 
 divine law: for this law demands perfect obedience, and 
 he that is guilty of one offence, is liable to the penalty 
 denounced against all offenders—eternal death. A just 
 person, therefore, is one who is become dead to the law, 
 and who relies for salvation on the atoning sacrifice which 
 was once offered up—even the Lamb of God, who was slain 
 before the foundation of the world. 
 
 2nd. Consider the life that he leads. Sinners are said to 
 be dead in trespasses and sins, but the true believer is re¬ 
 newed to a spiritual life in Christ Jesus. He lives a life of 
 peace. The apostle, in the fifth chapter of this epistle, says. 
 Being justified by faith, vie have peace with God through our 
 Lord Jesus Christ. The Christian believer enjoys peace of 
 conscience, arising from a sense of the pardon of his sins 
 through the blood of Jesus, and he feels an inward satisfac¬ 
 tion in having obtained the favour of God, and being 
 adopted into his family—which is the peace that passeth 
 understanding, which the world can neither give nor take 
 away. 
 
 3rd. Consider how this spiritual life is maintained and sup¬ 
 ported by faith. It is that true and living faith which purifies 
 the heart, and works by love. 11 is this faith which causes the 
 true believer to abound in good works, not because he attaches 
 any thing like merit to them, or supposes them necessary 
 to his salvation, but they arise from a pure principle of love 
 to God, and a holy desire to promote his glory in the world. 
 It is thus that Abraham was justified by works, when he 
 offered up his son Isaac. It is necessary to observe, that 
 the faith of the believer is not always the same—from a 
 variety of causes—but this does not make his salvation less 
 sure. It is his own conscience which justifies him in his 
 own eyes. It is good works which render him just in the eyes 
 
275 
 
 Memoir of Miss Jane Bury. 
 
 of the world; and faith that makes him just in the sight of 
 heaven. Being clothed in the righteousness of Christ, he 
 becomes * a new creature,’ and lives a life of peace, of holi¬ 
 ness, and of anticipation, which fits him for the inheritance 
 of the saints in life eternal.” 
 
 Such was Miss Bury’s attention to the preaching of the 
 gospel; and her regard to the influence of it was not less evi¬ 
 dent. Her attachment to divine things, kindled in her bosom 
 that charity which extends to others destitute of like advan¬ 
 tages. In a conversation held only a few weeks before her 
 death, on the propriety of taking measures for the benefit of 
 the neighbourhood into which the family had recently re¬ 
 moved, it w T as objected, that, in prudence, a more inti¬ 
 mate knowledge of the inhabitants should be previously 
 obtained. She replied with some warmth, and as if under 
 a presentiment of early dissolution, that she “did not like 
 the idea of any time being lost.” “ Can we not,” said she, 
 “ make a beginning, if it is only by the distribution of a 
 few tracts?” and added, “that she had thought so much of 
 a plan of visiting the poor, to converse with them for their 
 good, that for the two or three last nights, it had prevented 
 her from sleeping.” 
 
 Her diligence as a Sunday-school teacher was most 
 exemplary; and to aid in its engagements, she early and 
 regularly walked, irrespective of change of weather, two 
 miles on the sabbath morning. She obtained the affections 
 of the children; and when removed from the scene of those 
 labours to some distance, one of them said she would any day 
 walk nine miles, “ if it were only to look at her:” a free and 
 hearty utterance of feeling alike creditable to both parties. 
 Nor can the writer omit to state in this connexion, that the 
 father of a little girl, whose employment was that of a gar¬ 
 dener, presented to Miss Bury a choice plant, of careful 
 rearing, in a manner expressive of gratitude and esteem. 
 
 Her regard to the holy scriptures deserves especial notice. 
 “ It was,” observes a near relative, “ visible, and strongly 
 marked. She was frequently found reading the Bible, when 
 it was supposed she had retired to rest. She also com¬ 
 mitted large portions of it to memory. The last time she 
 walked to Grosvenor-street chapel,* she commenced a con¬ 
 versation, by commenting on those interesting words, “ If 
 the truth of God have more abounded through my lie, unto 
 his glory, why yet am I also judged as a sinner?” She then 
 also remarked, that the epistle to the Romans was a favou- 
 
 * Manchester- 
 
276 
 
 Memoir of Miss Jane Bury. 
 
 rite part of inspiration. Indeed, the whole of it was engra¬ 
 ven upon her memory, and, in compliance with request, she 
 proceeded to repeat several chapters. The manner in 
 which she discoursed, the facility with which she referred 
 to various branches of the apostle’s argument, and the clear 
 view she seemed to have of the whole arrangement, dis¬ 
 covered how much it had been the object of study. She 
 had proceeded a considerable way in learning the Apoca¬ 
 lypse, when death arrested her progress.” 
 
 Miss Bury diligently and punctually traversed the neigh¬ 
 bourhood of her residence several miles in circumference, 
 as a collector, for the distribution of the book of God. The 
 excellence of the last entry in her journal, will render any 
 apology for its introduction needless. 
 
 “Having heard it related of a young person, that there 
 was little ground of hope for her on a dying bed, since she 
 was not self-dedicated, I have been led to apply the sub¬ 
 ject to myself, and inquire. Am I self-dedicated unto God? 
 l)o I desire to devote my time and talents unto his service? 
 Alas! I fear I have too long substituted a form of godliness 
 for its power, and neglected his reasonable service. What 
 would be my condition, if I were called to give an account 
 of my stewardship ? Perhaps similar to that of the young 
 female, whose awful state I heard related in such feeling 
 terms. I too, like her, have lived under the sound of the 
 gospel, and, though I have been prevented from mixing in 
 the gaieties of the world, as she did, has not my heart con¬ 
 tinued in an unconverted state ? Have 1 not remained ex¬ 
 perimentally ignorant of the truths of the gospel, and, there¬ 
 fore, been incapable of applying them as a rule of faith and 
 practice ? Does not my heart continue hard and insensible 
 to a just view of the dreadful consequences of sin, with the 
 wrath of an offended God ? I desire to be thankful that I 
 am brought to see my need of an atoning sacrifice, and my 
 utter inability to perform any good thing. But I want to 
 feel more deeply such a hatred of sin, as will make me abhor 
 that which is evil, and cleave to that which is good, and ren¬ 
 der me more earnest in. my entreaties at the throne of grace, 
 for the influence of the holy Spirit, which can alone sub¬ 
 due the reigning corruptions of my heart.” 
 
 Of Miss Bury it may now be remarked, as of the patriarch 
 Israel: “ The time drew nigh that she must die.” A short 
 illness only preceded the event. She was in usual health, 
 and a lifeless corpse in five days; thus furnishing a strik¬ 
 ing illustration of the uncertainty and rapid flight of oppor- 
 
277 
 
 Memoir of Miss Jane Bury. 
 
 tunities; a topic with which, in health, her mind had been 
 deeply impressed. 
 
 The solemn process of dissolution will be best described 
 by one of her most intimate and beloved relatives.—“ Com¬ 
 pletely did divine grace triumph throughout her last indis¬ 
 position; not a murmur, nor an impatient expression, 
 escaped. Though much in pain and weariness, from total 
 deprivation of rest, all was peace and tranquillity; thankful¬ 
 ness and calm serenity presided over her words and actions; 
 her mind was superior to suffering, and while prescribed 
 remedies were ineffectually applied, she read, conversed, 
 and repeated, with uninterrupted activity. 
 
 “ On the Saturday before her death, it was observed to 
 her, that pain and sickness ‘are not joyous, but grievous/ 
 yet if sanctified, they frequently ‘yield the peaceable fruits 
 of righteousness/ She replied, * I have earnestly prayed 
 that this affliction might be sanctified, that should I recover, 
 I may more than ever devote myself to God. You know, 
 mamma, I have not had much illness, never such an one as 
 this/ ‘No, my dear Jane, you have not had those severe 
 pains and sufferings which many pass through, and this 
 calls for thankfulness/ * O yes, I know I ought to be thank¬ 
 ful, and I hope I am very thankful.’ ' 
 
 “ On the same Saturday, speaking of the value of pure 
 water, she remarked, * what innumerable blessings are held 
 out in scripture under that emblem/ and proceeded to repeat 
 many texts to the purpose. That night, to the sister who sat 
 up with her, similar observations were made, and she added, * I 
 do not think I shall ever get better, but I am not fit to die.’ 
 
 “ Being reminded that our fitness is of Christ, she quickly 
 rejoined, ‘ O yes, I know that; but I mean, I want to have 
 an assurance that my sins are forgiven me, and I do not 
 think that without this, it is possible to get above the fear 
 of death.’ 
 
 “ From several allusions made as to the uncertainty of her 
 recovery, it should seem she was more fully aw’are of the 
 danger of her situation, than the too sanguine friends around 
 her. These allusions did not discover any visible emotion, 
 probably because, in a season of health, she had not shrunk 
 from the frequent contemplation of death. 
 
 “ Observing her mother’s anxiety to relieve her, she said, 
 with an earnest look, and peculiar emphasis—‘ My dear 
 mamma, don’t be anxious; put your trust in the Lord, and 
 he will support you: yes, he will/ 
 
 “Being exhorted to look to Jesus for salvation, her 
 
 > 
 
 ( 
 
 4 
 
278 
 
 Memoir of Miss Jane Bury. 
 
 answer was , 4 To whom should I go ? there is no other name 
 under heaven by which we can be saved/ Do you believe, 
 my dear, that he is able to save you ? ‘Ido believe ; but I 
 want an assurance that he has pardoned all my sins. Pray 
 with me/ Her request was complied with, and a hymn sung. 
 ‘ Sing to me/ she would say, * it soothes me/ and the hymn 
 beginning 
 
 ‘When sickness and disease invade 
 This trembling house of clay/ 
 
 seemed much to please her. 
 
 ‘ Sweet in the confidence of faith, 
 
 To trust his firm decrees, 
 
 Sweet to lie passive in his hands, 
 
 And know no will but his/ 
 
 “It is conjectured, from her intense looks, the peculiar 
 manner which accompanied some of her actions, and the 
 earnestness with which she requested that every one would 
 hasten to leave the room, but the sister who was to sit up 
 with her, that she had intended to say something more 
 pointed on the subject of her approaching change. Pro¬ 
 bably, too, her increased illness, and the extreme delicacy 
 she had manifested during her indisposition not to offend 
 the feelings of others, checked the expression of her own. 
 
 “ The family had retired to rest,—but the restlessness of 
 death was on her, and every five minutes some change in 
 her position was made. ‘ Oh ! that I could sleep; but no more 
 sleep for me/ No sooner was she aware that every one had 
 quitted the room, than she renewed her requests: ‘ Now 
 repeat/ A line or two, or a text, was repeated at intervals, 
 accompanied by entreaties that she would endeavour to com¬ 
 pose herself, and cease to think. The following lines were 
 then recited, 
 
 ‘ There is a land of pure delight, 
 
 Where saints immortal reign/ 
 
 “ In a low tone, she said, * Pray for me/ I do pray, l 
 have prayed, and I know that my prayers are heard.—Yes, 
 Jane, though he should lead you through the dark valley' 
 he will be there to protect you/ The 23d Psalm was then 
 repeated; soon after which her mother was called, when she 
 asked with some anxiety—* But, mamma, do you think my 
 sins are forgiven me?’ Yes, my dear child, I know they 
 are. * Christ came into the world to be made a sacrifice 
 for sin, that all who believe in him might have everlasting 
 life. * Yes, mamma, but not for me. Oh, I am a poor 
 
279 
 
 Memoir of Miss Jane Bury. 
 
 miserable sinner.’ For you, for all that come unto him, 
 believing in him. Behold the Lamb of God, that taketh away 
 the sin of the world. She now broke out into a prayer for 
 faith, the fervour of which none can conceive, but those who 
 can correctly imagine the awful realities of such an hour. 
 It was mingled with several texts of scripture relating to 
 faith—such as, ‘Faith is the gift of God’—‘ He that believ- 
 eth on him shall never die’—‘Lord, give me faith’—‘O 
 Lord, have mercy upon my poor souland concluded— 
 
 ‘ Let me not be ashamed when I come into thy presence. 
 Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy 
 Ghost. Amen.’ 
 
 “ Memory fails to recall most of what passed, only such 
 expressions are committed to paper, as can be verbally 
 remembered. The convulsive struggle of death succeeded., 
 during which the enemy was permitted to exercise his last 
 power, and several doubts w r ere suggested, such as, ‘ It is too 
 late now’—* I have neglected it too long.’ But in less than 
 ten minutes all was again calm, and in a quarter of an hour 
 she breathed her spirit into the hands of her Saviour, so 
 gently, that her final close was scarcely susceptible. 
 
 “ She sleeps in J esus, and we sorrow not as those who have 
 no hope. We have planted her remains in the grave, in the 
 sure expectation that she shall, through the merits of her 
 Redeemer, spring again to blossom in immortal verdure.” 
 
 This event took place, April 2d, 1822, in the 21st year of 
 her age. Its improvement from the pulpit furnished addi¬ 
 tional evidence of the affectionate regards of her associates, 
 and also of high estimation by those who, in the school, had 
 received her instructions. 
 
 Many observations, in addition to those already noticed, 
 stand connected with a life like that before us. We are 
 taught the unsatisfactory nature of even the most admired 
 pursuits—the importance of having the affections regulated 
 by celestial light—that the greater the degree of illumi¬ 
 nation, the more will they be elevated to things above—and 
 that in proportion as the fleeting circumstances of earthly 
 objects are realized, the more distinct will be our percep¬ 
 tion of the glories of the Saviour, and the attractions of the 
 invisible state. 
 
 But the remarks most naturally associated with the pre¬ 
 ceding narrative, bear upon the value of time, and its right 
 improvement. It was truly affirmed of Miss Bury, that 
 “those who knew her most intimately, would find it diffi¬ 
 cult to say, that, in the course of years, she was ever seen 
 
280 
 
 Memoir of Miss Jane Bury. 
 
 to trifle away an hour.” Her indefatigable ardour in the 
 pursuit of knowledge, discovers an instinctive observance of 
 the apostolic exhortation, “ Be not children in understand¬ 
 ing;”—and attention to that, can consist only with pefse- 
 vering industry, and an habitual redemption of time. 
 
 An eminent modern writer has suggested hints, in con¬ 
 nexion with this subject, which cannot be too maturely 
 weighed. “Very early rising—a systematic division of 
 time—abstinence from reading, writing, or even thinking, on 
 modern politics—and, above all, never permitting a bit or 
 scrap of time to be unemployed, have supplied an abun¬ 
 dance of literary hours. His literary acquisitions,” con¬ 
 tinues Mr. Butler, referring as a reminiscent to his own ac¬ 
 quirements, “ whatever they are, may, perhaps, be princi¬ 
 pally owing to the rigid performance of four rules:—to direct 
 his attention to one literary object only at a time—to read 
 the best book upon it, consulting others as little as possi¬ 
 ble—where the subject was contentious, to read the best 
 book on each side—to find out men of information, and 
 when in their society, to listen, not to talk.”* Such intima¬ 
 tions, while peculiarly gratifying to an ardent student, are 
 capable of an easy adaptation to the varied circumstances 
 and pursuits of all mankind. Nor should it be forgotten, 
 that, to such a course as this, Bacon, and Doddridge, Watts, 
 and Miss Smith, with a host of the learned, while benefiting 
 the public, gave a zest to their own existence, which is 
 unknown to trifling indolence. 
 
 A course of activity and labour, it is true, will require 
 vigilant constancy : but the Christian will anxiously recol¬ 
 lect that for time—the most precious talent—he must ac¬ 
 count. He will observe the order of the most High in crea¬ 
 tion ; six days labour, and then rest: nor will it escape 
 notice, that ‘ the season for repose/ as expressed in the 
 mora 1 law, is deduced from preceding toil. The present 
 life is designed for action; the world to come, for the tran- 
 quillity of perfect knowledge and everlasting bliss. 
 
 Nor has any thing, it may be added, such a direct ten¬ 
 dency to produce a course like this, as an ever-abiding con¬ 
 viction of the uncertainty, as well as brevity, of our abode 
 on earth. J 
 
 ‘ Time is dealt out by particles, and each, 
 
 Ere mingled with the streaming sands of life, 
 
 By fate’s inviolable oath is sworn 
 
 Deep silence, — where Eternity begins.” young. 
 
 * Reminiscences, by C. Butler, Esq. 8vo. 1822. p. 3. 
 
Horn Juridica. 
 
 281 
 
 What a scene, observes Mrs. More, will open upon us, 
 when from our eternal state we shall look back oil the use 
 w r e have made of time! What a revolution will he wrought 
 in our opinions ! What a contrast will be exhibited, when 
 we shall take a clear retrospect of all we have done, and all 
 we ought to have done \* 
 
 J. B. W 
 
 HORiE JURIDICiE.—No. II. 
 
 On the Punishment of Defamation amongst the Hindus and 
 
 Chinese. 
 
 Having, in a former essay, travelled the route to which 
 Mr. Holt’s introductory chapter may be- considered a mere 
 road-book directory,—the whole of his observations upon 
 the Jewish, Persian, and Lydian codes, being comprised 
 in about fourteen lines,—now we must, for a while, part 
 company, and strike into a new and unfrequented path, 
 which we are not aware that the footsteps of any legal 
 antiquary has yet trodden, in his endeavours to trace the 
 history of the Law of Libel and Defamation from remote 
 ages to the present time, and to point out the different fea¬ 
 tures which it has assumed, according to the circumstances 
 of different ages and nations of the world. We allude to 
 the laws of some of the Oriental nations, with which, though 
 of far higher antiquity than any whose provisions are still 
 extant, our acquaintance is comparatively of modern date. 
 
 The first of these is the code of Menu, the great fountain 
 of Hindu law, believed by the eastern pundits to have been 
 immediately revealed by Brahma to his son, whose name it 
 bears; and which is beyond all doubt one of the most 
 ancient of the writings that we possess. And amidst all the 
 gross and ludicrous absurdity of the rites which it so mi¬ 
 nutely prescribes, and the singular and most unequal punish¬ 
 ments which it inflicts, that code contains many very sound 
 principles of morality, and several provisions well calculated 
 to promote the happiness of individuals, and to preserve the 
 peace of society. Amongst these are various enactments 
 against defamation, but they are so strangely mingled with 
 precise directions, to shun with equal care, in oblations to 
 the gods, a housebreaker—a giver of poison—a seller of the 
 moon-plant—a navigator of the ocean—a poetical encomiast, 
 an oilman, and a suborner of perjury;—to avoid looking 
 * Christian Morals, Works, vol. xv. p. 181. 
 
282 
 
 Ilura Juridical. 
 
 at your wife while she is eating, sneezing, or yawning—and 
 other offences of like prodigious enormity, which will sink 
 an Hindu into one-and-twenty successive hells, or cause his 
 re-appearance upon earth in the shape of one-and-twenty 
 different beasts, in turn to devour and to be devoured—that 
 it has given us no small trouble to ascertain their nature and 
 extent. 
 
 One of the general directions of their legislator to the 
 Brahmins for the government of their conduct, in the fourth 
 section of this singular code, bearing for its title “ On 
 Economics and Private Morals,” is, (addressing them indi¬ 
 vidually) “ Let him keep in subjection his speech, his arm, 
 and his appetite;”—whence we may infer, that the injuries 
 occasioned by a neglect of either of these directions to his 
 creatures, more especially to his immediate priests, was 
 considered equally culpable in the eye of Brahma. But 
 that those wounds which might be inflicted upon the 
 happiness of individuals and the peace of society, by not 
 attending to the first of these precepts, were distinctly 
 contemplated by the compiler of this code, whoever he 
 may have been, is still more evident, from an express 
 direction in a preceding part of this very chapter.* " Let 
 him say what is true, but let him say what is pleasing; 
 let him speak no disagreeable truth, nor let him speak 
 disagreeable falsehood.” And would the libellers of mo¬ 
 dern days but keep this “ primal rule of the Hindu law” 
 in their constant remembrance, they need not fear the ex- 
 officio informations of the attorney-general, nor actions upon 
 the case for damages sustained in consequence of their 
 defaming any of his majesty’s liege and peaceful subjects, 
 of “ good name, fame, and reputation.” “ Let him not,” 
 says the code of Menu to every Brahman, as the common 
 and statute law of England in fact say to every libeller, “ be 
 flippant in his speech, nor intelligent in doing mischief. 
 Let him walk in the path of good men ; while he moves in 
 that path, he can give no offence.”+ In this system of 
 Hindu law, the duty of bridling the tongue, and abstaining 
 from defamation, or speaking ill of another, is strongly in¬ 
 culcated upon all classes and conditions of men. To the 
 pupil it says, “ In whatever place, either a true but censo¬ 
 rious, or false and defamatory discourse, is held concerning 
 his teacher; let him there cover his ears, or remove to 
 another place. By censuring his preceptor, though justly, 
 he will be bom an ass; by falsely defaming him, a dog.;};” 
 
 * 138. f lb. i 177, 8. i Chap. ii. §. 200, 201. 
 
Hoy a Juridical. 
 
 283 
 
 To the king himself it addresses this admonition ; “ Bat¬ 
 
 tery, defamation, and injury to property, let him always 
 consider the three most heinous (vices) in the set which 
 arises, from wrath whilst the very Brahmins, whom the 
 code of the son of their supreme god ranks far above kings 
 and princes, are exhorted, when they have retired from its 
 active scenes, to prepare for their final departure from this 
 w'orld, to “ bear a reproachful word with patience,” and to 
 “ speak reproachfully to no man.”f 
 
 Such are the precepts of Menu; but as his laws have 
 declared punishment to be the perfection of justice, in the 
 opinion of the wise, we cannot but devote a few minutes of 
 our time, to those punishments which he has provided for 
 the prevention of slander, which, coupled with assault, con¬ 
 stitutes the eleventh and twelfth of the eighteen principal 
 titles of the Hindu code of legislation. These punishments 
 differ, as in the code of such a people we must naturally 
 expect they w'ould do, according to the rank or caste of the 
 person defaming, and of the person defamed. A soldier 
 defaming a priest, is to be fined a hundred panas; a priest 
 slandering a soldier, five hundred; whilst the punishment 
 of mutual abuse by men of these classes is to be at the 
 discretion of the king, “ the lowest on the priest, and the 
 middlemost on the soldier.” A merchant abusing a priest, 
 is to be fined an hundred and fifty, or two hundred panas ; 
 but being slandered in return, is to receive but twenty-five. 
 For slandering a man of the servile class, a priest is con¬ 
 demned to a fine of twelve pa?ias; but should he, in his turn, 
 give a similar license to his tongue, “ as a once born man, 
 who insults the twice born” with gross invectives, let 
 him,” says the righteous Menu, “ have his tongue slit; for 
 he is sprung from the lowest part of Brahma;” a sufficient 
 reason in his estimation for a punishment, which, unlike 
 most others, that may be commuted, is declared to be “ a 
 fixed rule.” But this is not the worst. If he mentions 
 their names and classes with contumely, as if he say, * Oh, 
 Devadatta, thou refuse of Brahmins,’ an iron style, ten fin¬ 
 gers long, shall be thrust red-hot into his mouth. Should 
 he, through pride, give instructions to priests, concerning 
 their duty,—“ let the king,” says Menu, “ order some hot oil 
 to be dropped into his mouth and his ear.” Defamation of a 
 father, a mother, a son, or a preceptor, is subjected to a fine 
 of an hundred panas; whilst he is compelled to pay double 
 that sum “ who falsely decries, through insolence, the sacred 
 
 * Chap. vii. § 51. f Chap. viii. §232. 
 
 VOL. VIII.—NO. 3. X 
 
234 
 
 Hour Juridical. 
 
 knowledge, the country, the class, or the corporeal investi¬ 
 ture of a°man equal in rank” with himself. False and ma¬ 
 lignant imputations upon the chastity of an unmarried 
 female, are also fineable in an hundred panas, provided the 
 person who makes them cannot prove the truth of his asser¬ 
 tion.* In this case, the truth of the charge would seem to 
 be a sufficient defence of the party accused of making it; 
 but it is the only one discoverable in the whole of the Hindu 
 code, and a subsequent part of the law of defamation, as 
 there laid down, clearly proves, that the contrary doctrine of 
 truth itself being in some cases a libel, is by no means 
 peculiar to the age or country in which we live. “ If a man 
 call another blind with one eye,” say the laws of the son of 
 Brahma, “ or lame, or defective in any similar way, he shall 
 pay the small fine of one pana, even though he speak truth." 
 And this provision is the more remarkable, in that these 
 blemishes, so far from being considered, as among us, mis¬ 
 fortunes to be commiserated, are expressly declared in this 
 very code, to be marks of Divine vengeance for crimes com¬ 
 mitted in that previous state of mortal existence, from which 
 those who bear them must have transmigrated. 
 
 “ Such is the law,” declared by Menu, “for the punish¬ 
 ment of defamatory speech.”+ That this was considered a 
 very serious offence, the severity of its punishment, when 
 compared with that of crimes which have generally been 
 held to assume a much blacker dye, is in itself sufficient to 
 evince. But the rank which it held in the scale of offences 
 proscribed by this singular code, is a matter not left to mere 
 deduction, since we find it expressly classed with those 
 which it is the first duty of a sovereign to banish from his 
 empire. “ That king,” says the Hindu legislator, “ in whose 
 realm lives no thief, no adulterer, no defamer , no man guilty 
 of atrocious violence, and no committer of assaults, attains 
 the mansions of Sacra. By suppressing these five in his 
 dominions, he gains royalty paramount over men of the same 
 kingly rank, and spreads his fame through the world.”;}; 
 “ In all cases of violence, of theft and adultery, of defama¬ 
 tion and assault,” the king, says a previous section of the 
 same chapter of the institutes,”^ “ must not examine too 
 minutely the competence of witnesses.” 
 
 It cannot, w r e should imagine, but strike the mind of every 
 attentive reader of the preceding statement, as a somewhat 
 singular circumstance, that these legal provisions for the 
 
 * Chap. \ii. ^ 225. f Chap. \iii. § 266—278. t lb. § 386, 7. 
 
 s lb. ^ 72. 
 
prevention and punishment of slander, which have more of 
 the characteristics of a systematic arrangement, than those 
 of any other of the ancient nations, should be found in the 
 legislative enactments of a people, amongst whom we should 
 be least disposed to look for them. Difficult, however, as 
 it may at first sight appear, this problem may perhaps easily 
 be solved ; at least, a few hints shall be offered for its solu¬ 
 tion. It is self-evident, that this code of Indian law, what¬ 
 ever may have been the period of its composition, or the 
 name of its author, must have been the work of a priest, or, 
 more probably, the joint production of a body of men of the 
 sacerdotal order. It was, therefore, their principal object to 
 secure their own aggrandisement, and to obtain an unlimited 
 dominion over the consciences and conduct of men, by im¬ 
 pressing their minds with blind veneration for the com¬ 
 mands of the superior deity, whom they artfully represented 
 as the immediate author of the code which they promul¬ 
 gated in his name. The unlettered and superstitious Hin¬ 
 dus were accordingly told, in the name of Menu, the son of 
 Brahma, their god, that “ a Brahmin, whether learned or 
 ignorant, is a powerful divinity, even as fire is a powerful 
 divinity, whether consecrated or popular. Thus, although 
 Brahmins employ themselves in all sorts of mean occupa¬ 
 tions, they must invariably be honoured ; for they are some¬ 
 thing transcendently divine.”* Hence the ecclesiastical im¬ 
 munity, that sure test for the discovery of unhallowed 
 priestcraft in the composition of human laws : “ Never shall 
 the king slay a Brahmin, though convicted of all possible 
 crimes;—let him banish him from his realm, but with all his 
 property secure and his body unhurt.”+ It could only have 
 been in an age of gross superstition and ignorance, that 
 claims like these could have been successfully advanced;— 
 but then, the priests by whom they were advanced, as in the 
 instance of the popes and monks of the dark ages of Europe, 
 must have possessed a cunning and foresight perfectly con¬ 
 sistent with a degree of learning and information very limited 
 in its extent, though powerful in its operation, from its ex¬ 
 clusive and zealous devotion to one grand object of personal 
 and self-interested ambition. Whilst therefore they en¬ 
 deavoured, by every possible means, to prevent the general 
 diffusion of knowledge, which must, they knew, be destruc¬ 
 tive of their influence, they sought in some measure to arm 
 themselves against its effects, by imposing, in anticipation, 
 the severest penalties on those who should presume to apply 
 * Chap. ix. § 317, 319. f Chap. viii. § 380. 
 
286 
 
 I lord: Jiu idicd:. 
 
 it, to expose the impudence of their pretensions, which 
 they would readily interpret into a defamation of their sacred 
 characters, and, in their persons, a most outrageous insult 
 to the majesty of heaven. Hence then were the iron style, 
 the boiling oil, and the slitting of the tongue, prepared for 
 those who spoke with contumely of a priest, or presumed to 
 instruct him in any part of his duty, in other words, who 
 should venture to say or write any thing either of him or 
 his office, which was not perfectly agreeable to his own feel¬ 
 ings. They were, however, fully aware of the importance of 
 securing the protection of that powerful class, who, by fol¬ 
 lowing the profession of arms, would at all times render 
 their favour desirable, and their enmity much to be dreaded. 
 Whilst, therefore, they protected themselves as effectually 
 as they could against a power which they feared, by super¬ 
 adding to the general terrors of a future punishment, most 
 liberally denounced against the oppressors and despisers of 
 the priests of Brahma, an express provision that—“of a 
 military man, who raises his arm violently on all occasions 
 against the priestly class, the priest himself shall be the 
 chastiser,”—their military pride was flattered by their being 
 placed, though at a sufficiently respectful distance, the next 
 in rank to the superiors of kings, the divinities of this 
 lower world. Last of the three twice-born classes, the 
 rights of the merchants received from this priestly code 
 the degree of protection necessary to enable them to procure 
 those riches, upon which the wants of the Brahmins would 
 always have the first and the most sacred claims. Their 
 characters were, therefore, protected from defamation by the 
 inferior castes, by the same punishment as was to protect the 
 soldiery from the license which the populace might otherwise 
 give to their tongues, by way of revenging themselves for that 
 inferiority, which, in spite of their systematic training to bear 
 it with patience, as an irreversible decree of heaven, they 
 could not but feel to be irksome and degrading. As they 
 were far inferior, however, both in rank and importance, to the 
 military, they were subjected to a double fine for abusing a 
 Brahmip;and as the priests were infinitely less anxious to 
 secure their good will, they reserved to themselves a right 
 to abuse them whenever they should see fit, on payment of 
 little more than twice the sum in which they were by law 
 amerced lor defaming one. of the lowest classes, but which 
 was not a fortieth part of the mulct imposed upon their own 
 prder for slandering one of the military cast. Thus did the 
 precautions taken by these ecclesiastical legislators, to pre- 
 
Hortc Juridical. 
 
 287 
 
 vent the exposure of their own self-interested views, their 
 vices, their follies, and their ambition, become the means of 
 introducing into the code of laws which they promulgated, 
 a prohibition of defamation far more general in its objects, 
 more precise in its definitions, and more severe in its punish¬ 
 ments, than any of ancient date, whose provisions have sur¬ 
 vived the wreck of ages, and very probably of any that ever 
 had existence. As the fire, which was their favourite sym¬ 
 bol, and in some measure an object of their worship, if not 
 properly confined, will consume in its fury every thing op¬ 
 posed to its destructive ravages, they knew that a disposi¬ 
 tion to scandal and defamation, if not checked on its very 
 first appearance, would in time treat with but little reve¬ 
 rence the sanctum sanctorum of the priestly character. 
 
 The revolution of fifteen hundred years will introduce 
 great alterations into the habits, manners, and opinions of a 
 people, even as blindly attached to the tenets and customs 
 of their forefathers as are the nations of Hindostan. The 
 progress of improvement, by the secret extension of more 
 liberal notions, must, w’ith such a race of beings, be too 
 slow r and silent to be traced; yet its effects may be evident, 
 where its causes are enveloped in uncertainty. That such 
 an improvement has taken place, we may easily satisfy our¬ 
 selves, by referring to the code of Gentoo law T s, cotnpiled 
 from that of Menu and nineteen other more modern trea¬ 
 tises of the Hindu lawyers, by the most celebrated pun¬ 
 dits of the East, by order of Warren Hastings, when gover¬ 
 nor-general of India, and translated into English under his 
 direction, by that learned but eccentric w'riter, Mr. Brassey 
 Halhed. We shall there find, that the gross disproportion 
 still suffered to exist in the punishment of defamation, ac¬ 
 cording to the rank or caste of the persons defamed and 
 defaming, is comparatively but little influenced by their 
 belonging to the sacerdotal order, provided they are mem¬ 
 bers of one of the three principal and only honourable 
 classes—the priestly, the military, and the mercantile. For 
 such is the natural tendency of commerce to elevate in the 
 ranks of society, those who, by successfully engaging in its 
 pursuits, acquire riches and influence, that a merchant is 
 so far from being placed, in the scale of punishment for de¬ 
 faming the character of a priest, nearly on a level with a 
 soodah, or man of the servile caste, that the discipline of 
 running a red-hot iron into the liiouth of the defamer, re¬ 
 served by Menu for the reviler, or presumptuous instructor 
 of the Brahmins, is by the later institutes of the Hindu 
 
288 
 
 I lord Juridica. 
 
 law, indifferently awarded to the slanderer of either of the 
 other superior castes, with the further punishment of the 
 entire loss of the tongue, where the calumny excites a sus¬ 
 picion of the person, of whom it is propagated, having been 
 guilty of either of the offences in the three principal classes 
 of scandalous crimes. Those crimes are specified with a 
 degree of heterogeneous preciseness, which would force a 
 smile from the most rigid stoic, in the first section of the 
 chapter of the code, (or digest, for that would have been a 
 far more appropriate appellation) of the Gentoo laws, which 
 bears for its title, “ Of scandalous and bitter expressions,” 
 a. e. such expressions as it is a crime to utter. Here we 
 have three distinctions of the crime of false accusation, 
 strangely jumbling together in the same class of moral guilt. 
 Incest, and robbing a Brahmin; murdering a friend, and 
 eating the victuals of a washerwoman’s caste; killing a woman, 
 and killing a cow; injuring a Brahmin and striking a man 
 where schoolboys, whilst flogging was in fashion, occasion¬ 
 ally felt the rod. For using any expression, in consequence 
 of which a man becomes suspected of either of these crimes, 
 particular punishments are provided and apportioned with 
 great nicety to the particular offence of which he may be sus¬ 
 pected, and the caste and abilities of the accuser and the 
 accused; persons slandering their inferiors in both these 
 respects, being most righteously fined in but half the 
 penalty in which a man abusing his equal is amerced, 
 and only in one fourth of that levied upon those who 
 falsely cause their superiors to be suspected of any of those 
 enormous offences. It is a curious circumstance, however, 
 and one we should least expect to meet with in an oriental 
 code of laws, that the fine for falsely accusing a woman of 
 any of these crimes, or causing her to be suspected of them, 
 is visited by the highest pecuniary punishment which the 
 law inflicts in cases of defamation. In this, as in all its 
 enactments, the digest of the Hindu law of libel, or, more 
 technically speaking, of defamation, Carries with it evident 
 marks of modern arrangement, and reduction to a systema¬ 
 tic form; which, however opposed to justice and the prin¬ 
 ciples of sound reason, is perfectly consistent with itself, 
 and complete in all its parts. Thus the fine originally 
 directed by Menu to be imposed upon those who should 
 reproach persons disfigured, by being deficient in certain 
 limbs, or in any of the sensual organs, or possessing them 
 m imperfect state, is ex’pressly extended to those, 
 
 who by ironical praise give additional keenness to the wound 
 
7 lone Juridica. 
 
 I 
 
 289 
 
 they seek to inflict. Thus, too, a fine is imposed upon those 
 who maliciously attempt to undervalue the skill ot another 
 in his profession or calling, though measured by the singu¬ 
 lar gradation of guilt which we have already noticed. In 
 the same spirit of a more regular jurisprudence, it is pro¬ 
 vided, that “if a man speaks reproachfully of any country, 
 the magistrates shall fine him two hundred puns of cow¬ 
 ries;” that where two persons mutually abuse or utter false 
 accusations against each other, the magistrate shall take an 
 equal fine from both parties ; and that if a man should have 
 spoken reproachfully of another, or should have abused him, 
 and afterwards says, “ I spoke inconsiderately, or in a jest, 
 and I will not utter such expressions in future,” the magistrate 
 shall take from him half the fine that had been specified for 
 such fault. It is not, therefore, in the principle, but in the 
 mode of punishing the crime of defamation, that the Hindu 
 law has experienced that change, which is always attendant 
 upon a general improvement in the habits and manners of a 
 nation, however slow may be its movements. It does not 
 appear to be less criminal in the modern digest of the Gen- 
 too laws, than it does in the more ancient code of Menu: 
 but the punishment is more systematically apportioned, 
 and adapted to the existing state of society, amongst the 
 singular people whose conduct it is meant to regulate. In 
 some respects that punishment is considerably aggravated, 
 by the imposition of additional pains and inconveniences on 
 those who shall be found guilty, or evenaccused of slandering 
 another. They are forbidden, for instance, to appear by 
 vakeel, or attorney, but are compelled to make answer in 
 person, and that instanter, to the accusation preferred against 
 them;—being placed in this respect on a level with mur¬ 
 derers, robbers, adulterers, and some others, whose offences 
 we shall not name. If convicted, they are also rendered 
 incapable of becoming witnesses, as much as a man who had 
 committed murder, theft, adultery, and other crimes deemed 
 infamous in the eye of the law. 
 
 From the law’s of Hindostan, we are naturally led to make 
 a few remarks upon those of China. What were the ancient 
 provisions of this singular race, who seem to be as it were 
 perfect aborigines in all their habits and institutions, we 
 have no means of ascertaining, though there can be little 
 doubt but that with a people holding in such profound reve¬ 
 rence the opinions and customs of their forefathers, the 
 spirit of those provisions is very deeply infused into the 
 more modern of their legislative enactments. Ihe “Tsing 
 
290 
 
 Horai Juridical. 
 
 Leu Lee/’ or penal code of China, for a translation of which 
 we are indebted to the learning and extraordinary perse¬ 
 verance of Sir George Staunton, has a book of one of its 
 divisions,* entirely devoted to the laws against abusive lan¬ 
 guage : and we are informed in one of the translator’s notes, 
 that it is observed in the Chinese commentary, “that abu¬ 
 sive and insulting language, having naturally a tendency 
 to produce quarrels and affrays, this book of the laws is 
 expressly provided for its prevention and punishment.” 
 (p. 354.) And it is worthy of remark, that the punishment 
 so provided, being entirely of a corporal nature, can have 
 been awarded upon no other ground than that of the injury 
 which the indulgence of that propensity is likely to occasion 
 to the public peace; the very principle upon which our own 
 law proceeds, in authorizing private individuals, when slan¬ 
 dered by others, to proceed by way of indictment at the 
 suit of the king, for the breach of the peace, of which he is 
 the legal guardian, whenever they think proper to wave their 
 claim for pecuniary compensation for the injury they them- ' 
 selves may have sustained from the promulgation of the scan¬ 
 dal complained of. “ In ordinary cases,” says the section 
 of the Chinese laws which bears for its title, ‘ On abusive 
 language between equals/ “ all persons guilty of employing 
 abusive language shall be liable to a punishment of ten 
 blows; and persons abusing each other, shall be punished 
 with ten blows respectively.” In the case of abuse addressed 
 to an officer of government, civil or military, or to a magis¬ 
 trate, the punishment is increased to sixty, seventy, or one 
 hundred fold, according to the rank he occupies; whilst the 
 officers of the tribunals themselves are subject to a fine of 
 from thirty to sixty blows for abusing each other, and of 
 from fifty to eighty for abusing their president, when in 
 the discharge of their respective duties. Slaves and hired 
 servants addressing abusive language to their masters’ rela¬ 
 tions, are liable to a punishment of from forty to one hun¬ 
 dred blows, according to the degree of relationship. The 
 punishment of the slave is, in all cases, heavier, however, by 
 twenty blows than that of the servant; and to the eighty 
 which he is to receive for abusing his master’s relations in 
 the first degree, is added two years’ banishment,—a pu¬ 
 nishment inflicted upon the servant but in the instance of 
 his abusing his master; an offence which the poor slave 
 is condemned by law to expiate with his life, “ by being 
 strangled at the usual period.” The abuse of one relation 
 
 * Book iv. div. 6. 
 
Hone Juridical. 
 
 291 
 
 by another, is also prohibited under penalty of a gradation 
 of blows, regulated with the precision which distinguishes 
 the Chinese punishments, by the degree of affinity between 
 the parties, provided the person abused is himself the com¬ 
 plainant. The child, grandchild, or wife, who shall address 
 abusive language to a parent,—a paternal grandfather or 
 grandmother, or to those of the husband,—“ shall,” says the 
 Chinese code, “ in every case suffer death; provided always,” 
 adds, however, this singular law, “ that the persons abused 
 themselves complain thereof to the magistrates, and had 
 themselves heard the abusive language which has been 
 addressed to them.” It is, we should imagine, to this, 
 and the other more severe enactments of the code, where, on 
 account of the particular relation in which the offender may 
 stand to him, the mere verbal abuse of another is raised into 
 a capital offence, that Sir George Staunton refers in the note, 
 in which he says, “ It is not, however, to be supposed, that 
 laws of this nature are often very strictly enforced.” (p.355.) 
 For the credit of humanity, it is to be hoped they are not; 
 but in the laws of China, as, it is painful to add, is but too 
 much the case in our own, the sentence of death is but a 
 bugbear, which the very offenders, upon whom it is for mere 
 form’s sake pronounced, know may be commuted for a cer¬ 
 tain number of blows with the bamboo, or by the payment 
 of so many ounces, and decimals of an ounce, of silver; as 
 with us it is changed into a certain quantum of imprisonment, 
 and, in the more atrocious cases, into a given period of 
 transportation. The requisition, that in order to convict a 
 person of defamation, it is necessary that the individual 
 defamed should himself have heard the slander, is not pecu¬ 
 liar to the section of the Chinese law on abusive language, 
 from which w ? e have quoted it; but applies equally to all the 
 others, excepting, as it w r ould seem, (for even here the point 
 is somewhat doubtful,) to the ordinary cases. This is an 
 additional confirmation of the position before advanced, 
 that the Chinese consider defamation to be a public injury, 
 from its tendency to produce quarrels, ill-will, and a conse¬ 
 quent breach of the peace. Whether their civil institutions 
 give any pecuniary compensation for the injury sustained by 
 the individual whose reputation may have been unwarrant¬ 
 ably attacked, we have no means of satisfying ourselves;—but 
 certain it is, that the penal sanctions of their laws are so far 
 from acting upon this principle, that however numerous the 
 assembly in whose hearing the slander may have been pro¬ 
 nounced, it is never visited by any punishment, at least, in 
 
21)2 
 
 The Standard of Taste: 
 
 those cases in which it is aggravated by the rank or relation 
 of the person defamed, unless, from having heard it himself, 
 he might, in the heat of passion, have been tempted to become 
 the avenger of his own wrongs. The peculiar severity of these 
 punishments may be referred to the genius of the govern¬ 
 ment, and the people, whose laws and manners were alike 
 moulded on the patriarchal plan, with the addition of such 
 stretches of an arbitrary power, as a military government 
 would impose upon an abject people,—and which accord¬ 
 ingly impressed upon children the most submissive respect 
 for their parents,—upon wives the most absolute obedience 
 to their husbands, upon servants an entire dependence on 
 the will of their masters; and upon all, an habitual reverence 
 for the emperor, as the gr^at parent of the state. Still the 
 object was the public good, without any reference to a repa¬ 
 ration for the private wrong. /3. 
 
 “ On the Standard of Taste.” An Essay intended to compete 
 for a Prize, given by the university of Glasgow. By the 
 late William Friend Durant.-Part II. 
 
 If the process of generalization already described, were 
 wholly unchecked by any corrective influence, the conse¬ 
 quences would certainly be inconvenient, and would, per¬ 
 haps, be fatal to the interests of our species. Objects so 
 numerous, are connected by points of individual resemblance ; 
 and indeed, analogies so numberless are discovered by the 
 ingenuity, or invented by the fancy, of mankind, that if the 
 principle to which we have adverted were employed without 
 restriction in the classification of objects, the vocabulary of 
 man would soon be contracted within a very narrow com¬ 
 pass, and yet each part of it would be filled with ambiguity 
 and confusion. It seems, then, evident that some counter¬ 
 acting power is in operation, to restrain, or rather to subdue, 
 that which is exerted in a contrary direction. Nor need we 
 go far to discover the obstacle which serves entirely to 
 prevent the progress of generalization. When a word is, in 
 ordinary language, either metaphorically, or transitively, 
 applied to objects which have no property in common, one 
 of two results necessarily follows. If the inconvenience of 
 ambiguity be so apparent as to press itself on the attention 
 of mankind, some attempt is immediately made to remove 
 it. The most obvious, and the most ordinary remedy, is, 
 the invention of a new word to designate the one class of 
 objects; and the appropriation to the other, of that which 
 
293 
 
 An Essay, by W. F. Durant. 
 
 was once indiscriminately applied to either. In other cases, 
 however, little inconvenience arises from the double meaning 
 of the word: those different ideas which are designated by 
 the same] arbitrary sign, are so widely removed from each 
 other, and so rarely found in a state of proximity, that the 
 connexion of the term is almost always sufficient to indicate 
 its real meaning, and to preclude the possibility of miscon¬ 
 struction. 
 
 Thus, no new term is invented, because the danger of 
 ambiguity is not apparent: the ends of language are, on the 
 whole, answered, and no great solicitude is experienced about 
 the symmetry of its several parts. This one word, however, 
 is not at any one time so used as to include objects essen¬ 
 tially distinct from each other. It may here designate one 
 class of ideas, and in another place it may be the sign of ideas 
 totally different: but it cannot, in the same connexion, and 
 at the same time, stand to denote things which have in 
 common nothing; but their name. To the substance of this 
 statement, I should not have imagined that any objection 
 could have been offered. 
 
 Mr. Stewart has, however, noticed what he conceives to be 
 a different procedure, and conducted on different principles. 
 I shall quote his own words; both because I do not feel my¬ 
 self qualified to do justice to his reasonings, and because the 
 passage I am about to cite, states, with great simplicity and 
 beauty, some of the facts to which I have just alluded. “ I shall 
 only add at present on this preliminary topic,” says this elegant 
 and ingenious philosopher, “that according to the different 
 degrees of intimacy and of strength, in the associations on 
 which the transitions of language are founded, very different 
 effects may be expected to arise Where the association 
 is slight and casual, the several meanings will remain dis¬ 
 tinct from each other; and will often, in process of time, 
 assume the appearance of capricious varieties in the use of 
 the same arbitrary sign. Where the transition is so natural 
 and habitual as to become virtually indissoluble, the transi¬ 
 tive meanings will coalesce into one complex conception ; 
 and every new transition will become a more comprehensive 
 generalization of the term in question.”* The reader will 
 be good enough to keep in mind that illustration which I 
 quoted in the preceding part of this essay, and by means of 
 which Mr. Stewart professes that he has been “ attempting 
 to convey” his ideas on this subject. On referring to that 
 illustration, it does most evidently appear that the different 
 * Stewart’s Phil. Essays, part ii. essay i. chap. 1. 
 
mutual relation. True it is, that a and c have a mutual 
 relation to b, — b and d, to c—c and e, to d : but it is equally 
 true, that the extremes of the series are totally disconnected 
 from each other, and from some of its intermediate portions. 
 Not only have they no common property, but they have not 
 even that slenderer bond of nnion, which a mutual relation 
 would supply; because the very force of the illustration 
 depends on the circumstance that the concatenation of the 
 series does not imply connexion between any two of its 
 parts, where they are separated by the intervention of a 
 third. Mr. Stewart has in this very passage assured us, that 
 “ where the asssociation is slight and casual, the several 
 meanings will remain distinct from each otherand, there¬ 
 fore, may we not conclude, a fortiori, that the same effects 
 will arise where there is no association at all? Yet on what, 
 let me ask, can an association be founded, where there is no 
 property in common between the objects associated, and 
 where they are not mutually related to any other object? 
 
 argument like that which has just been urged. 
 
 Mr. Stewart, it will be said, is engaged in combating* the 
 supposition, that a common name implies a common quality 
 in the several objects to which that name is applied. To 
 
 to fail and, in pursuance of the plan he has laid down, 
 adduces as a single fact, illustrative of what he conceives to 
 be a general truth, the case to which you have just alluded. 
 It is, then, unfair to conclude that, because the existence of 
 an indissoluble association is inconsistent with the circum¬ 
 stances of this particular fact, therefore it cannot be con¬ 
 sistent with an analogous process, which may, nevertheless, 
 be distinguished by some minute differences from that which 
 has just been under consideration. To these observations, 
 I reply, in the first place, that this illustration, however 
 apparently qualified by the sentence which immediately 
 precedes it, is evidently afterwards considered not merely as 
 
 Immediately after the use of this illustration, Mr. Stewart 
 adverts to the distinction “ pointed out by Mr. Knight, in 
 
295 
 
 An Essay, by W. F. Durant. 
 
 his analytical inquiry into the principles of taste, between 
 the transitive and metaphorical meanings of a word.” “ The 
 distinction,” proceeds Mr. Stewart, “ seems to me equally 
 just and important; and as the epithet transitive expresses 
 clearly and happily the idea which I have been attempting 
 to convey by the preceding illustration, I shall make no 
 scruple to adopt it, &c.” # As this clearly identifies the idea 
 attached to the epithet “ transitive,” with that which is con¬ 
 veyed by the preceding illustration, I am surely justified 
 when I take from that very illustration, the notion which 
 I attach to the term it is intended to elucidate; and in 
 arguing against the possibility of an indissoluble association 
 between “ transitive meanings,” found my opinion on the 
 circumstance that the very process, by which the transition 
 is supposed to be effected, is inconsistent with the supposi¬ 
 tion, that such an association can take place between the 
 different ideas which are said thus to coalesce into “ one 
 complex conception.”- Should we, however, even allow it 
 to be possible for an indissoluble association to exist, its 
 existence necessarily implies some associating circumstance. 
 Whatever that circumstance may be—whether a common 
 property, or a common relation—it must be, I apprehend, 
 something in which each of the associated objects partici¬ 
 pates. Where this common circumstance exists, therefore, 
 is it not more than probable, that the common designation 
 is intended to point out that particular in which there is an 
 agreement between all the objects to which this designation 
 is given ; and that, whenever it is employed, we are led to 
 vieV the object to which it is applied in relation to the cir¬ 
 cumstance, in which that object participates with the other 
 individuals that the same term is used to denote? 
 
 My intention, however, as I have before remarked, is not 
 to take those general views which present themselves in 
 connexion with our subject; but to confine myself to such 
 observations as are absolutely essential to its elucidation. 
 Whatever, then, maybe the decision of the general question, 
 1 shall be perfectly content, if I can make it appear, that 
 the word to which our attention is at present directed—has 
 a definite, a precise, and an assignable meaning. Those 
 illustrations which are intended to shew, that this intimate 
 association may take place in cases where the application 
 of the word has been thus transitively extended, and that, 
 consequently, “ the several transitive meanings” may 
 ** coalesce into one complex conception”—seem to me to 
 * Phil. Essays, part ii. essay ii. chap. 2. 
 
296 
 
 The Standard of Taste: 
 
 point out a circumstance sufficiently important of itself to 
 justify the common appellation. This subject will demand 
 a rather lengthened discussion, because it is intimately 
 connected with the conclusions at which we wish to arrive. 
 Some observations of Mr. Stewart,—and his observations are 
 invaluable, even when we dissent from the opinion founded 
 on them,—will be our best guides in the prosecution of the 
 inquiry. The investigation may, perhaps, ultimately lead 
 us to imagine, that, at least in this particular instance, the 
 common appellation is not bestowed on objects totally un¬ 
 connected by any circumstance of agreement. “ In this 
 enlargement, too, of the signification of the word,” the tran¬ 
 sitive application of the word beauty to forms and motion, 
 “ it is particularly worthy of remark, that it is not in conse¬ 
 quence of the discovery of any quality belonging in com¬ 
 mon to forms and to motion, considered abstractly, that the 
 same word is now applied to them indiscriminately. They 
 all indeed agree in this, that they give pleasure to the spec¬ 
 tator ; but there cannot, I think, be a doubt that they please 
 on principles essentially different; and that the transference 
 of the word ‘beauty/ from the first to the last, arises solely 
 from their undistinguishable co-operation in producing the 
 same agreeable effect, in consequence of their being perceiv¬ 
 ed by the same organ, and at the same time.”* f am quite 
 ready to admit, that the objects of taste have, considered 
 abstractly, no common quality. The theory before us, 
 however, remains unproved, should it be found that there is 
 some one circumstance in which they all agree. 
 
 A natural, and probably a correct, inference will be, that 
 in this agreement the common name originated; and that 
 whenever that name is used, we view the object, in con¬ 
 nexion with that circumstance by which the class is charac¬ 
 terized. In the instance immediately before us, Mr. Stewart 
 admits, that “ they all agree in this, that they give pleasure 
 to the spectatorand speaks of “ their indistinguishable 
 co-operation in producing the same agreeable effect.” Here, 
 then, is a common effect; and it is, I should imagine, in 
 consequence of this common effect, that the common name 
 is applied to these different objects. Instead, therefore, of 
 saying that the term “beauty” is employed with regard to 
 each of them in a different sense from that in which it is 
 applied to any of the others, or that the several ideas de¬ 
 signated by the appellation, coalesce into one complex con¬ 
 ception ; I should rather imagine that one and the same 
 * Phil, Essays, part ii. essay i, p. 1. chap. ii. 
 
297 
 
 An Essay, by W. F. Durant. 
 
 meaning is attached to the word in each of its several appli¬ 
 cations. When I denominate a colour beautiful—I mean, if 
 this opinion be correct—that it produces, or contributes to 
 produce, a peculiar state of mental feeling. If I apply the 
 same appellation to form, I do, in fact, only make, in rela¬ 
 tion to it, the same assertion which I formerly made in rela¬ 
 tion to colour. The same reasoning may be applied to mo¬ 
 tion, and to all those other qualities of which these are, in 
 the present instance, adduced as representatives. In some 
 cases, all these qualities co-operate in the production of 
 one simultaneous effect; while they are, at other times, 
 presented, both separately, and in every state of varied 
 combination. I am aware, that when united, they may be 
 denominated beautiful, when, if disjoined, each would be 
 excluded from any claim to the appellation; that in a dis¬ 
 joined state, each may be beautiful, when combination would 
 produce positive ugliness; and that, therefore, neither union, 
 nor separation, is in every case necessary to the result. 
 This admission, however, does not in the least affect the 
 argument, unless it can also be shewn that the emotions 
 which each, when out of combination, produces, are essen¬ 
 tially different from those which are in other cases pro¬ 
 duced, when many simple elements are combined. But 
 “ they please,” it is said, “ on principles essentially differ¬ 
 ent.” Be it so—I can have no objection to the concession. 
 The word “ beauty” is, we assert, intended to denote, not 
 any common property in the objects to which it is applied— 
 not the identity in each several case, if the principle on 
 which the pleasure they occasion is founded—but the gene¬ 
 ral similarity of result. Perhaps I cannot better explain 
 myself than by referring to the terms '‘pleasing and pleasant¬ 
 ness, as illustrative of my meaning. 
 
 Although no man would talk of the pleasing in objects, as 
 philosophers have talked of the beautiful, yet the cases are 
 sufficiently analogous for our present purpose. The words 
 before us are susceptible of application co-extensive with 
 the range of our pleasurable feelings. Every thing in nature, 
 or in art, that is capable of ministering to our gratification— 
 whether it be the poetry of Milton—the sculpture of Praxi¬ 
 teles—or the lowest object of mere animal appetite—may 
 be denominated pleasing. Now, though the sources of 
 delight are infinitely varied—though pleasures differ from 
 each other, not only in the mode of their production, but in 
 their several distinguishing characteristics,—yet no man 
 would, I think, be bold enough to assert that there is not 
 
298 
 
 The Standard qj Taste: 
 
 something, however incapable we may be ofdefining it, which 
 distinguishes agreeable sensations or emotions from any 
 other class of feelings. The word 'pleasing, when it is applied, 
 not to the feeling itself, but to the object by which feeling is 
 excited, has one simple and easily assignable signification. 
 It stands to denote the connexion which somehow' exists 
 between the object to which it is applied, and a certain pecu¬ 
 liar state of mind. Here there is no transitive application of 
 the word. The propriety of its use depends indeed not on 
 any thing in the object “ considered abstractly,” but on the 
 connexion of that object with the state of mind produced 
 by it. This word, therefore, has in every situation a single, 
 and a simple meanin-g. Whether it be applied to colours, 
 to sounds, to motion, to relishes, to odours, or to any of 
 those thousand objects which gratify our senses, or adminis¬ 
 ter intellectual and moral enjoyments, the only meaning it 
 conveys is, that which I have pointed out—the connexion 
 between these objects, and feelings of a peculiar order. If 
 I wish to give a more accurate idea of the effects which any 
 of them produces, I add some words of limitation,—as, that 
 it is pleasing to the touch, to the taste, to the smell, to the 
 affections,—and thus restrict the meaning of the more general 
 term; but that general term, wherever and however em¬ 
 ployed, conveys the same idea. In the same way, then, do 
 I conceive that objects denominated beautiful, have all one 
 circumstance in common, in consequence of their all produ¬ 
 cing emotions, which, however varied, yet possess some 
 general characteristic sufficient to distinguish them from 
 feelings of any other order. Any object may in an indivi¬ 
 dual instance be beautiful, just as any object may, perhaps, 
 under certain conceivable circumstances, be pleasing; but 
 those objects only are ordinarily denominated beautiful, 
 which, in a majority of cases, produce that peculiar class of 
 emotions which we denominate the sentiment of beauty— 
 just as the epithet “ pleasing” is usually applied to those 
 objects alone which are calculated to administer pleasure to 
 the great mass of mankind. 
 
 Before we proceed, it may not be improper to review the 
 ground over which we have already passed. 
 
 We are at present attempting to ascertain the sense in 
 in which the epithet correct is applied to the emotions of 
 taste. Our first object was distinctly to mark the difference 
 between sensation and emotion, and to shew that the latter 
 depends for its existence on a previous intellectual process. 
 Thence we deduced the inference, that correctness is, in 
 
299 
 
 An Essay, by W. F. Durant. 
 
 strictness, predicable, not of the emotion, but of the pre¬ 
 ceding intellectual process. The inquiry here presented 
 itself—What is the nature of this intellectual process ? and 
 what is meant by its correctness? Here there is a prelimi¬ 
 nary discussion for the sake of ascertaining the object, or 
 rather, perhaps, the exciting; cause of the intellectual ope¬ 
 ration. Beauty and sublimity seem to afford a natural 
 answer to our inquiries. A collateral investigation into the 
 nature of sublimity and beauty was thus rendered necessary. 
 We were, then, obliged to notice some reasonings and con¬ 
 clusions, which would, if admitted, preclude all hope ol a 
 successful termination to our labours. In the course of 
 these speculations, we have been led to infer, that beauty in 
 objects is nothing more than the power of occasioning sen¬ 
 timents of a peculiar nature. Similar reasoning may be 
 applied to sublimity. It remains, therefore, that we ascer¬ 
 tain the nature of these sentiments; and, consequently, 
 the nature of the peculiarity by which they are charac¬ 
 terized. 
 
 We have already adverted to one great distinction, among 
 the feelings of which we are susceptible. These feelings 
 are either sensations—in other words, the immediate se¬ 
 quences of an impression on some external organ—or they 
 are emotions: in other words—the immediate sequences 
 of a process strictly intellectual. Emotions again may be 
 subdivided according to the causes by which they are pro¬ 
 duced, or rather by which the mental operation, in which 
 their existence originated, is occasioned. This train of 
 thought may be only the natural continuation of previous 
 reflection; and although it is probable, that every such train 
 might be ultimately traced up to some sensation by which 
 the commencement of the series was suggested, yet the ex¬ 
 istence of this association, it is often not easy, and it is 
 sometimes impossible, to ascertain. Frequently, however, 
 the connexion of the sensation with the thought productive 
 of emotion, is so closely established—the suggestion so im¬ 
 mediate—the succession of ideas so obvious,—and the emo¬ 
 tion so directly consequent on the organic impression, that, 
 neglecting the intermediate links, we learn to look on the 
 sensation as the immediate antecedent,—on the emotion, 
 as the immediate sequence,—on the former, as a cause—on 
 the latter, as one of its effects. 
 
 On these remarks, then, we may, perhaps, found some de¬ 
 finition of beauty, and be able to trace the meaning of the 
 word from that attached to it in its simplest and primary 
 
 VOL. VIII.—no. 3. v 
 
300 The Standard of Taste: 
 
 acceptation, to that more extended sense in which it is at 
 present received. 
 
 Beauty and sublimity then, in their primary signification, 
 I conceive to exist, when the intellectual operation inter¬ 
 vening between sensation felt or remembered, and pleasing 
 emotion, is so rapidly conducted,—or is, at any rate, so inti¬ 
 mately connected with the organic impression, or with the 
 recalled idea of that impression—that the association be¬ 
 tween perception present or recalled, and emotion, is imme¬ 
 diately obvious to the individual by whom they both are 
 experienced. 
 
 There is, I am aware, some difference in the phraseology 
 employed; but it will, I trust, on the whole be found that 
 the opinions here expressed are nearly, although not per¬ 
 haps entirely, coincident with the conclusions of Mr. Alison. 
 —When 1 have marked the progressive extension of mean¬ 
 ing, and have arrived at the ultimate acceptation of the 
 word, this coincidence will be, I trust, more apparent. I 
 shall, however, endeavour to assign my reasons for differing 
 on some minor points from so high an authority,—because, 
 if to dissent from its decisions border on presumption,—to 
 assign no reasons for that dissent, so far from protecting my 
 conduct from censure, would surely be a circumstance of 
 aggravation. I am the more willing to enter on the discus¬ 
 sion, because it will, at the same time, give us the fairest 
 opportunity for marking the progressively extended appli¬ 
 cation of the words in question. Mr. Alison conceives the 
 emotion of beauty to be of a complex nature. According to 
 him, it necessarily involves, “1st. The production of some 
 simple emotion, or the exercise of some moral affection. 
 2dly. The consequent excitement of a peculiar exercise of 
 the imagination.”* Under the head of simple emotions, he 
 enumerates,—“ cheerfulness, tenderness, melancholy, so¬ 
 lemnity, elevation, terror, &c. ;”f and, in the same chapter 
 gives what may be considered an exposition of the notion 
 which he attaches to the phrase “ complex emotion.” To 
 ■settle the meaning of terms, apparently so simple, may to 
 some appear unnecessary, or even absurd. Those, however, 
 who are best acquainted with the great importance of fairly 
 ascertaining the grounds of difference before we argue, will, 
 
 I think, agree with me in deeming it desirable to take the 
 author’s own statement of the meaning he attaches to his 
 own phraseology. I quote, therefore, his words,—“ In the 
 case of those trains of thought, on the contrary, which are 
 
 * Alison’s Essays, Introd. + Ibid, essay i. chap. ii. sec. 2. 
 
301 
 
 An Essay , by W. F. Durant. 
 
 suggested by objects either of sublimity or beauty, I appre¬ 
 hend it will be found, that they are in all cases composed of 
 ideas capable of exciting some affection or emotion; and 
 that not only the whole succession is accompanied with 
 that peculiar emotion which we call the emotion of beauty 
 or sublimity, but that every individual idea of such a suc¬ 
 cession is in itself productive of some simple emotion or 
 other.”* Now, if while “ the whole succession is accom¬ 
 panied with that peculiar emotion which we call the emotion 
 of beauty or sublimity,” “ every individual idea of such a 
 succession is in itself productive of some simple emotion or 
 other,”—we are naturally led to imagine that the complex 
 emotion can be nothing other than a succession of these 
 simple emotions. Indeed, Mr. Alison’s own statements 
 afford abundant evidence of his belief that the emotion of 
 beauty involves just such a succession. He first informs 
 us, that the emotion of beauty involves “ a peculiar exercise 
 of imagination,”t w'hich exercise is consequent on the pro¬ 
 duction of some simple emotion. The second chapter is 
 professedly devoted to the “ Analysis of this exercise of 
 Imagination.”! This exercise of imagination, we are in- 
 forrned,^ “ consists in the indulgence of a train of thought.” 
 The author, whose professed object it is to analyze this 
 exercise of imagination, selects two points for particular 
 consideration. After remarking, that there must be about 
 these successions of thought something in which they differ 
 from the mind’s more ordinary operations, he observes, that 
 “ this difference consists in two things: 1st. in the nature 
 of the ideas or conceptions which compose such trains ; and 
 2dly. in the nature or law of their succession.”|| He then 
 informs us, in the passage before cited, that “ every indi¬ 
 vidual idea of such a succession, is itself productive of some 
 simple emotion or other, and immediately after, thus ex¬ 
 presses himselfIn every case, where the emotions of 
 Taste are felt, I conceive it will be found that the train of 
 thought which is excited is distinguished by some charac¬ 
 ter, of emotion and that it is by this means distinguished 
 from our common or ordinary successions of thought. To 
 prevent a very tedious circumlocution, such ideas may, 
 perhaps, without any impropriety, be termed ideas of emo¬ 
 tion.”^ After having thus assigned a determinate meaning 
 to this last phrase, he goes on to say, “ The first circum- 
 
 * Alison’s Essays, essay i. chap. ii. sect. 1. 
 
 + Ibid. Introd. t Ibid, essay i. chap. ii. $ Ibid. chap. ii. sect. 1. 
 
 )| Ibid. H Ibid. 
 
302 
 
 The Standard of Taste: 
 
 stance, then, which seems to distinguish those trains of 
 thought which are produced by objects either of sublimity 
 or beauty, is, that the conceptions of which they are com¬ 
 posed are ideas of emotion.”* I ought, perhaps, to apolo¬ 
 gize for such copious extracts. I feel, however, that I am 
 so exposed to the suspicion of that involuntary mistate- 
 ment which arises from a want of comprehension, that I do 
 not venture to argue against the conclusions of so consi¬ 
 derable a writer, without giving, in his own words, those 
 propositions of which I may have been led to question the 
 actual correctness, or at least the philosophical accuracy. 
 It will not then be forgotten, that, according to Mr. Alison, 
 the emotion of Taste involves, among its other elements, a 
 peculiar exercise of the imagination. A chapter is devoted 
 to the “ analysis of this exercise of imagination.” That 
 exercise is there asserted to consist “ in the indulgence of a 
 train of thought.” We are afterwards assured, that the 
 ideas, or " conceptions of which” these trains “are com¬ 
 posed, are ideas of emotion,”—and we are previously in¬ 
 formed, that “ every individual idea of such a succession is, 
 in itself, productive of some simple emotion or other.” From 
 this w T e gather, that an idea of emotion is an idea “ produc¬ 
 tive of some simple emotion and that the exercise of ima¬ 
 gination, being made up of ideas, each productive of some 
 simple emotion, involves a succession of simple emotions. 
 As, therefore, a succession of simple emotions must have had 
 a commencement in some one simple emotion—where is the 
 philosophical propriety of severing from the chain its first 
 link, and of dissociating from a continuous series that which 
 forms an important part of it? On this ground, therefore, 
 I justify what might otherwise be considered an omission, 
 and have no hesitation in looking upon this train of thought 
 and emotion as an effect traceable to one cause, without the 
 intervention of any idea or feeling deserving separate consi¬ 
 deration. There may be, and I believe are, reasons of con¬ 
 venience that have prompted the arrangement to which I 
 have ventured to object. With these, I have, however, 
 nothing to do, since I have entered into the discussion, only 
 for the purpose of shewing, that where I have deviated from 
 the line marked out by this distinguished writer, it has not 
 been without at least imagined cause. 
 
 Another, and a more important peculiarity of my state¬ 
 ment is to be found in the rank which I have assigned to 
 sensation, as the exciting cause of those trains of thought 
 * Alison’s Essays, essay i. chap. ii. sect. 1. 
 
303 
 
 An Essay, by W. F. Durant. 
 
 by which the emotions of beauty and sublimity are occa¬ 
 sioned. I have already hinted, that while the principles that 
 have been laid down, are, as I conceive, fundamentally cor¬ 
 rect, they are capable of an extension, of which they do not, 
 at first view, appear to be susceptible. Memory is, as far 
 it goes, the exact transcript of our past feelings. Of course, 
 therefore, those ideas w 7 hich are suggested by an actual im¬ 
 pression, will be suggested by the conception of that im¬ 
 pression, when it is called up by the help of memory. The 
 similarity of result will have an exact proportion to the ac¬ 
 curacy and vividness of the recollection; in other words, 
 to the degree of resemblance which exists between the 
 original impression, and the recalled idea of that im¬ 
 pression. If, therefore, any particular sensation be so as¬ 
 sociated with certain ideas of emotion, as to give rise to 
 thought and feeling—that sensation will, when recalled by 
 memory, produce similar results. This similarity of both 
 cause and consequence, is obviously sufficient to justify the 
 application of the epithets, beautiful and sublime, to those 
 works of genius which are fitted to call up the conceptions 
 of such sensations as are themselves associated with certain 
 “ ideas of emotion.” I, therefore, included the remembered 
 as well as the present sensation. There are, however, cer¬ 
 tain kinds of beauty to which I frankly confess that this 
 statement will not in strictness apply. If, indeed, we re¬ 
 member how dependent mind is on the information of the 
 senses, and how much of our attention is necessarily en¬ 
 grossed by the impressions which we are so constituted as 
 to receive from merely sensible qualities—we shall probably 
 find, that the emotions of Taste are, in a majority of cases, 
 traceable to some sensation either felt or recollected. I am 
 not, however, prepared, for the sake of preserving symme¬ 
 trical uniformity of system, to push this theory beyond the 
 bounds which fact prescribes to it. The statements which 
 have been made, may account for the use of these terms in 
 relation to the fervid imagery of an oration, or of a poem,— 
 but I do not see how they can justify its application to the 
 reasoning of the mathematician, to the heroism of the war¬ 
 rior, or to the magnanimous self-devotion of the saint. Yet 
 how often do we speak of the beauty of reasoning, and of 
 the moral sublimity of undaunted firmness and inflexible 
 integrity? Some philosophers would, perhaps, denominate 
 this a metaphorical use of the terms in question. I am, 
 however, rather unwilling to give such an answer to the 
 inquirv,—both because the obscurity in which the subject 
 
I 
 
 304 The Standard of Taste: 
 
 is involved does not seem to be much relieved by this 
 reply; and because the word metaphorical, although of 
 rather indefinite meaning, does not seem to convey the 
 exact idea which the slight degree of attention I have been 
 able to pay this subject has led me to form. 
 
 It has already been observed, that beauty and sublimity 
 exist in the object, not abstractly considered, but consi¬ 
 dered in relation to the trains of thought and feeling which 
 the sensible properties of that object are calculated indi¬ 
 rectly to excite. All our sensations, whether actually pre¬ 
 sent or recollected, do not give birth to such trains of 
 thought; and indeed, such trains of thought rarely, if ever, 
 originate, except in impressions received by means of one or 
 two particular organs. As this then is the case,—as, amid 
 the infinite variety, there is yet what Mr. Burke denomi¬ 
 nates “ a chain in our sensations;”*—and as this proposi¬ 
 tion, which may, perhaps, in its most extensive sense be 
 true, is evidently correct with regard to the impressions of 
 every particular organ—is it not probable, that where there 
 is a general resemblance, amid a vast variety of different 
 yet similar causes, there will be an analogous resemblance in 
 the several results flowing from these similar causes? and 
 that, if some one general feature characterize the former, 
 there will be some one general feature characteristic of the 
 latter also? A presumption in favour of this supposition 
 arises from the very existence of the phrases -—the emotions 
 of beauti/, and the emotions of sublimity. This is the univer¬ 
 sally received division of those emotions, which are denomi¬ 
 nated the emotions of Taste. For the present, it matters not 
 what we conceive to be the line of distinction between the 
 sentiments of beauty and those of sublimity. The fact is, 
 that such a line has been drawn; and this fact seems to 
 prove, that some principle of classification has been dis¬ 
 covered ; for classification has actually taken place. Our 
 former reasoning only went to prove, that the emotions of 
 Taste are the apparently immediate consequences of sensa¬ 
 tion, either felt or remembered; and we endeavoured to 
 shew in what way, and by means of what intermediate 
 links, the preceding is connected with the subsequent event. 
 We have now proceeded a step farther, and, assuming the 
 correctness of our former statements, find that the emotions 
 thus produced are all reducible to two distinct classes. 
 We find then, that emotions produced in the way that I have 
 attempted to point out, are denominated emotions of Taste : 
 
 * Sub. and Beaut, p. 3. § 24. 
 
305 
 
 An Essay, by W. F. Durant. 
 
 and we subsequently find, that all the emotions of Taste are 
 reducible under two general heads. Now, although all the 
 emotions produced in the way to which we have adverted, 
 may be characterized by certain peculiarities, of which we 
 may, perhaps, before we close, discover the cause; and 
 although they are evidently susceptible of another and in¬ 
 ferior distribution into the classes which have been already 
 noticed, it does not follow that emotions similar in kind, 
 may not, occasionally, originate in dissimilar causes. 
 
 Ideas are so associated, that athousand circumstances may 
 suggest the very same train of thought, and consequently, 
 of emotion; which may be in other cases suggested by pre¬ 
 sent sensation. If there be then any peculiarity of emotion 
 in the latter case, there will be exactly the same peculiarity in 
 the former; and the sentiments will themselves be character¬ 
 ized by no distinctive circumstance, whatever may be the dis¬ 
 similarity of their exciting causes. Those objects, therefore, 
 which excite the former class of feeling, like those which occa¬ 
 sion the latter, are called beautif ul, or sublime; and the plea¬ 
 sure is in either case ranked amongst the pleasures of Taste. 
 
 Here I cannot but anticipate an inquiry, which certainly 
 deserves attention:—What, after all, do you mean by the 
 primary acceptation of the words beauty and sublimity? 
 You acknowledge, that they have subsequently obtained a 
 more extensive signification; and what propriety is there in 
 restricting that signification at all, if it be thus susceptible 
 of enlargement? — Perhaps it ought, in fairness, to be 
 acknowledged, that this view of the subject appeared to 
 present great facilities for the statement of my opinions; 
 and that I was led to the arrangement by the current of my 
 own thoughts, which, whenever it is my wish to form some 
 distinct conception of the nature of beauty, revert almost 
 imperceptibly to that description of beauty which exists in 
 sensible objects. Independently, however, of this conve¬ 
 nience, or of these impressions, it does appear to me that 
 there are valid philosophical reasons for pursuing the course 
 which has been adopted. In the earlier periods of society, 
 the analysis and classification of our feelings are necessarily 
 imperfect. It happens, however, that certain sensations, in 
 consequence of the laws of our mental constitution co¬ 
 operating with circumstances over which we may have no 
 control, "are associated with certain consequent emotions. 
 We, in an advanced state of society, are accustomed to con¬ 
 duct lengthened trains of thought, and to encourage those 
 sentimental reveries which are ultimately productive of 
 
306 
 
 The Standard of Taste: 
 
 pleasing emotion.—The sentiment of beauty becomes an ob¬ 
 ject of attention. We place ourselves in circumstances which 
 are likely to contribute to its excitement; we not unfrequent- 
 ly labour to obtain the information necessary to its recep¬ 
 tion ; and we even analyze its composition, and discover its 
 elements. All this must naturally, and, we would think, 
 inevitably, lead us to discern the dependence of feeling on 
 thought, and the utter impropriety of considering the emo¬ 
 tions of Taste as immediately consequent on the perception 
 of their appropriate objects. Yet such is the force of early 
 association, that philosophers, even in modern times, seem 
 to have overlooked this mass of evidence; and, by the intro¬ 
 duction of internal senses, either to have rejected the inter¬ 
 vention of thought, or to have introduced it in a way altoge¬ 
 ther unintelligible. But to our lengthened trains of thought— 
 to our sentimental reveries—to our studious search for the 
 beautiful and sublime—the men of earlier ages were total 
 strangers. They were not indeed strangers to the senti¬ 
 ments of sublimity, or of beauty; for of these sentiments, 
 human nature cannot, perhaps, entirely divest itself. If, 
 however, we abstract all those sources of refined delight 
 which are peculiar to civilized man, we shall so circumscribe 
 the range of these sentiments, that their existence will prove 
 to be, in almost every instance, ascribable to sensation, 
 either present or recalled. To the beauty of language, pri¬ 
 mitive man must have been insensible ; because language 
 possessed no polish, and attracted no regard. Where man¬ 
 kind was conversant with the external world alone—unused 
 to attend to the phenomena of consciousness, and destitute of 
 any acquaintance with those abstract sciences by which the 
 human race is elevated in the scale of intellectual being— 
 the beauty of thought must have entirely consisted in agree¬ 
 able combinations of recollected sensation. Those senti¬ 
 ments also which are excited by the perception of design, 
 contrivance, adaptation, and utility, would, although not 
 entirely excluded, arise with comparative infrequence. 
 
 Few objects would present themselves, calculated to ex¬ 
 cite the emotion ; and, where there was any thing like com¬ 
 plexity of design, the undisciplined mind would be unable 
 to comprehend, and, therefore, incapable of feeling. In 
 such a state of society, thought must have been much more 
 exclusively conversant with the sensible qualities of things 
 than it is at present. The sentiments of beauty, or of sub¬ 
 limity, therefore, must have been almost uniformly traceable 
 to some suggesting sensation; and the very circumstance. 
 
307 
 
 An Essay, by YV. F. DuraDt. 
 
 that it was possible to trace them, implies the proximity of 
 the two different states of mind, and the absence of that long 
 intervening process of abstract thought, which is but rarely 
 experienced by uncivilized man. Can we, therefore, won¬ 
 der, if the occasion of the feeling was mistaken for its 
 cause—the more remote for the immediate antecedent? At 
 such a period, when the emotions of beauty must almost 
 always have appeared to be the immediate sequences of 
 some organic feeling, the materials for comparison and in¬ 
 duction would have been absent, could we even suppose 
 metaphysical analysis to have attracted the attention of man¬ 
 kind. Unacquainted with those processes of thought through 
 which the mind of civilized man is sometimes conducted, 
 for the purpose of enabling him to seize that association on 
 which is dependent a long train of ideas and feelings, and 
 accustomed to experience emotion in a state of apparently 
 immediate connexion with some impression on the external 
 organ,—it is difficult to conceive how mankind could at all 
 have discovered the intervention of thought. Those who 
 are accustomed to this kind of investigation, know how 
 difficult it sometimes is to detect an intellectual process, 
 where, nevertheless, no doubt of its actual existence can, 
 in the present state of the science, be entertained. How 
 often are we reduced to the necessity of reasoning analogi¬ 
 cally, and of thus supplying by inference the deficiencies of 
 experience ? In the case which has been described, how¬ 
 ever, the possibility of such reasoning would be almost pre¬ 
 cluded—unless, indeed, we can attribute to uninstructed 
 man, a comprehensiveness of intellect, and a patience of re¬ 
 search, with which even philosophers have not often shewn 
 themselves to be endowed. In cases, therefore, where the 
 association was so intimate, and the succession of ideas so 
 instantaneous, as to escape detection, what would be the 
 natural procedure of the human mind? Here are sensa¬ 
 tions and emotions widely differing from each other in their 
 nature; but apparently ascribable to the same external 
 cause. Certain impressions on the organ are followed, if 
 not as invariably, yet, to all appearance, as immediately by 
 feelings of the one class, as by those of the other. No un¬ 
 natural conclusion certainly would be, that they are in each 
 case attributable to some quality in the object ; and that the 
 same admirable mechanism, by means of which sensations 
 are received from the external world, is employed in the 
 transmission of feelings, in kind different, but similar in 
 their origin, and in the mode of their communication. 
 
308 
 
 The Standard of Taste: 
 
 The same train of reasoning would, if pursued, carry the 
 human mind still farther. From causes which have been, 
 or which will be mentioned, it does so happen, that those 
 trains of pleasing emotion, which are thus rapidly conse¬ 
 quent on the organic impression, are all characterized by 
 certain circumstances of similarity. This, which would 
 tend to confirm the erroneous opinion already imbibed, 
 would also induce mankind to ascribe to the imagined 
 causes of these feelings, some correspondent peculiarity. 
 As, therefore, all smells, however different, are produced by 
 effluvia—all sounds by vibrations—and as we unavoidably 
 attribute similarity of sensation to similarity in the qualities 
 by which it is communicated, all these emotions would, in 
 the spirit of unphilosophical generalization, be attributed 
 to some one property existing in each several object, which 
 might chance to be the occasion of their excitement. To 
 the objects supposed to possess this property, some generic 
 appellation was almost unavoidably applied; and an abstract 
 term was invented, to express that quality in which they 
 were imagined to agree. If these emotions were supposed 
 to be at once distinguishable in their nature from our ordi¬ 
 nary sensations, yet immediately attributable to the same 
 cause in which sensation originates, the most ordinary 
 notions of convenience must have suggested the necessity 
 of some such classification as that which actually exists. 
 The universal propensity to consider beauty in relation to 
 the sensible qualities of objects, is generally observable; 
 and is strongly confirmatory of the opinions which have 
 just been advanced. One celebrated genius of the present 
 age resolves the sentiment of beauty—if, indeed, his theory 
 reduce it not at once to the rank of a sensation—into “re¬ 
 laxation of the fibres.” Till very lately, philosophers have 
 been inclined to search for some one quality to which the 
 emotions of beauty, or of sublimity, might in every case be 
 ascribed. All these erroneous opinions mark the process 
 through which the human mind has passed; and seem to 
 point out that primary signification with which our first 
 associations are connected ; and to which our thoughts are 
 always prepared to revert. 
 
 If, therefore, to the terms in question, we assign the 
 meaning, which, from a consideration of the early situation 
 of man, we have been led to consider as originally belong¬ 
 ing to them—we can, I think, easily trace that progressive 
 extension, by means of which they have now become sus¬ 
 ceptible of a far less restricted application. If this peculiar 
 
309 
 
 An Essay, by W. F. Durant. 
 
 notion prove to be founded in mistake—our conclusion 
 may be correct, should the steps, by means of which our 
 progress has been effected, appear to be objectionable. 
 While, therefore, l am naturally partial to the views which 
 have been here brought forward, the more extended signifi¬ 
 cation which we ultimately attach to the words, must be 
 judged of by its apparent coincidence with fact. 
 
 Before concluding my remarks on this part of the sub¬ 
 ject, I shall beg leave to notice another point, with regard 
 to which there is some apparent difference between the 
 statements hazarded above, and the sentiments expressed 
 by Mr. Alison. On those sentiments I have already said, 
 that my own opinions are formed; and I may, perhaps, now be 
 allowed to premise, that the difference is here only apparent. 
 The writer, to whom we have just alluded, assures us, that 
 “in those trains which are suggested by objects of subli¬ 
 mity or beauty, however slight the connexion of individual 
 thoughts may be, it will be found that there is always some 
 general principle of connexion, which pervades the whole, 
 and gives them some certain and definite character.”* The 
 question will naturally present itself—why, if this be the 
 case, have you not marked a fact of so much importance? 
 Was it that all the reasoning employed to establish it, left 
 you unconvinced ? or did you keep it in the back ground, 
 lest it should turnout to be inconsistent with some arbitrary 
 definition of your own? By neither of these motives am I 
 conscious of having been actuated. I am convinced, that 
 the fact is as has been stated ; and that the admission, so 
 far from impugning, is favourable to the views which have 
 now been offered. But, then, it appears to me to have been 
 less a part of the idea which the epithet beautiful was origi¬ 
 nally invented to express, than a peculiarity necessarily 
 resulting from the nature of those trains which are excited 
 by the objects of Taste. I may be allowed once more to 
 advert to the primary meaning I have assigned to the words 
 beauty and sublimity , The original application of these 
 words, I have restricted to those objects which are capable 
 of giving rise to such trains of pleasing emotion, as obvi¬ 
 ously have, for their exciting cause, sensation either felt or 
 recollected. Now, whenever this is the case, it is evident 
 that the emotions produced must have some leading charac¬ 
 teristic—“ some general principle of connexion which per¬ 
 vades the whole.” All these emotions must have some 
 points of resemblance, because correspondent as they are 
 * Alison’s Essays, essay i. chap. ii. sect. 2* 
 
310 
 
 The Standard of Taste: 
 
 in their nature to the ideas of which they are the conse¬ 
 quences, a similarity will naturally prevail among them, 
 while those ideas have all an obvious relation to the sensa¬ 
 tion by which they are suggested. True it is, that trains of 
 varied and desultory thought may arise in consequence of 
 this suggestion. In such a case, however, there will soon 
 cease to be any connexion between the suggesting sensation 
 and the suggested idea. Where, with the same sensation, 
 ideas themselves essentially different, and productive of 
 dissimilar emotions, are associated—where it suggests, at 
 different times, different trains of thought, which, although 
 they are dissimilar, yet agree in giving rise to the senti¬ 
 ments of beauty—or where, in the same way, a number of 
 simpler elements are blended in one delightful complex 
 feeling—we conclude that the object from which the impres¬ 
 sion is received is possessed of beauties, various, or, as we not 
 unfrequently express ourselves,unnumbered. Each species 
 of beauty is, however, conceived of as distinct from the 
 rest; and although we may, in the moment of passion, talk 
 about “ the provoking charm of Caelia altogether,”* we 
 never, I believe, soberly and seriously think of this “ pro¬ 
 voking charm” as an indivisible whole, unsusceptible of ana¬ 
 lysis. I do not certainly intend to assert that the case of 
 female beauty affords an exactly fair parallel to that which 
 is more immediately under consideration. I only mean to 
 say, that where a sensation suggests either distinct or com¬ 
 plex trains of thought, and of pleasing emotion—each of 
 these trains is characterized by some predominant feature; 
 and is popularly ascribed to some peculiar beauty possessed 
 by that object which occasioned the original impression. 
 At any rate, where the suggested emotions are totally dis¬ 
 similar in their general character, they will never constitute 
 such a train of harmonious and delightful feelings, as at¬ 
 tracts and fixes our attention. 
 
 “ When,” says Mr. Stewart, “a train of thought takes its 
 rise from an idea or conception, the first idea soon disap¬ 
 pears, and a series of others succeeds, which are gradually 
 less and less related to that with which the train com¬ 
 menced ; but, in the case of perception, the existing cause 
 remains steadily before us; and all the thoughts and feel¬ 
 ings which have any relation to it, crowd into the mind in 
 rapid succession, strengthening each other’s effects, and all 
 conspiring in the same general impression.”+ They would 
 
 * Phil. Essays, part ii. essay i. part i. chap. 6. 
 
 + Philosophy of the Human Mind, chap. b. part i. sect. 1. 
 
311 
 
 An Essay, by W. F. Durant. 
 
 not, however, “ conspire in the same general impression,” 
 and “ strengthen each other’s effects,” if they could at once 
 stand in this common relation “to that with which the 
 train commencedand yet themselves be entirely destitute 
 of similarity or coincidence. This uniformity of character, 
 therefore, being necessarily inherent in those trains of 
 thought and emotion, to the external exciting causes of 
 which the term beauty was at first applied—the signifi¬ 
 cation of that term is subsequently extended to nothing 
 which does not excite trains distinguished by similar uni¬ 
 formity. I have not, therefore, taken earlier notice of this 
 circumstance, because I conceive it to be rather a necessary 
 inference from what has been already stated, than a part of 
 that idea which the term beauty was originally invented to 
 express. I have thus stated my notions on this important 
 subject. For the great leading principles, I am chiefly in¬ 
 debted to Mr. Alison’s elegant and philosophical writings; 
 and to those writings I must refer for the elucidation and 
 establishment of these principles. As I have little time to 
 spare on the discussion of a question, which, although im¬ 
 portant, is collateral, or, at best, preliminary—I have taken 
 these principles for granted; and have confined myself to 
 the consideration of those points which, not being defended 
 by the authority or by the reasonings on which I have in 
 other cases depended—stand in need of argument for their 
 illustration and support. 
 
 Beauty, then, in its most extensive sense, I conceive to 
 be nothing more than the power of occasioning ideas produc¬ 
 tive of pleasing emotions—all of which are possessed of a 
 general uniformity of character. The word beauty is, how¬ 
 ever, restricted to those cases in which these emotions are 
 of the less violent order; and are not calculated to produce 
 any considerable degree of mental agitation. 
 
 Sublimity appears to differ from beauty, in the charac¬ 
 ter of the emotions excited by a contemplation of the objects 
 in which it exists. All these emotions are of a violent 
 nature, and the train of thought which is accompanied by 
 them, is of such a kind as to be productive of great mental 
 agitation. This I prefer to that theory which considers the 
 sublime as a modification of the terrible. That the emo¬ 
 tions which accompany a sense of danger are the most vio¬ 
 lent of which the human constitution is susceptible, I am 
 ready to admit: but I do not see sufficient reason to believe 
 that these emotions always enter into the feeling of subli¬ 
 mity. It occasionally requires, at all events, great ingenuity 
 
312 
 
 Calendar of the Jews. 
 
 to discover this ingredient; and the more comprehensive, 
 therefore, appears the preferable definition. This, however, 
 I merely mention in passing, without attaching to it any 
 great degree of importance.* 
 
 After this long, but necessary digression, we propose to 
 proceed to the more immediate consideration of our subject. 
 Our present object, it will be remembered, is to ascertain 
 the sense in which Taste can be justly termed correct. 
 After having attempted to shew that the emotions of Taste 
 are preceded by an intellectual operation, and that beauty 
 and sublimity in objects are nothing more than the power 
 of suggesting particular trains of thought, which are pro¬ 
 ductive of certain peculiar emotions—we shall prosecute, 
 with regard to these previous trains of thought, the inquiry 
 that has presented itself; and notice some of those difficul¬ 
 ties which attend the investigation. 
 
 CALENDAR OF THE JEWS. 
 
 AN APPENDIX 
 
 TO THE 
 
 Essay on the Agriculture of the Israelites. 
 
 The first idea of the following Calendar was taken from one 
 in Mr. Bickersteth’s excellent Scripture Help, in which it 
 occupies four duodecimo pages, or rather two leaves, con¬ 
 sisting of two opposite pages each, divided into seven columns, 
 five being in the first page, and two in the second. The 
 first five in Mr. B’s. contain the same heads as the first five 
 in the following, and the other two are in the second page. 
 But, as it was an object with the compiler of the following, 
 to get as much space as possible for tne subjects connected 
 with his Essay on Agriculture, the weather, productions, &c. 
 he thought that, by making the 2d, 3d, 4th and 5th columns 
 narrower, he might get the 6th into the first page, leaving 
 
 * In the following passage, Mr. Burke expresses an opinion, ap¬ 
 parently coincident with the sentiments which are offered above. 
 “ Whatever is fitted in any sort to excite the ideas of pain and dan¬ 
 ger-—that is to say, whatever is, in any sort, terrible, conversant 
 about terrible objects, or operates in a manner analogous to terror , is a 
 source of the sublime; that is, it is productive of the strongest emotion 
 which the mind is capable of feeling.” (See Sub. and Beaut, part i. 
 sect, vii.) 
 
313 
 
 Calendar of the Jews. 
 
 the whole of the second page to the agricultural matters; 
 and likewise, by putting only three months into a page, or 
 leaf, instead of six, it would again double the space for 
 those, and likewise allow more for the festivals, &c. Another 
 alteration lias been made in the second column. Mr. B. 
 has represented our months as corresponding exactly with 
 the Jewish months, as September to Tisri, Marchesvan to 
 October , and so on; whereas we are informed, that it is the 
 latter part of September and beginning of October which 
 answer to Tisri. To point this out, therefore, the horizontal 
 lines of division in the second column do not correspond 
 with those in the first, but the line in the second column is 
 placed against the middle of the month in the first column, 
 and is only dotted, to distinguish it from the former. 
 
 The notices of festivals, &c. are enlarged from a calendar 
 given by Calmet at the end of his Dictionary of the Bible; and 
 from one given by Mr. Horne, taken from that, and Father 
 Lamy’s Apparatus Biblicus, in the third volume of his very 
 valuable Introduction to the Study of the Holy Scriptures, 
 2d edition, p. 174. 
 
 The notices of the weather, productions, Sec. are enlarged 
 from Buhle’s Calendar of Palestine, in the Fragments 
 added to Calmet’s Dictionary, (the source whence Mr. 
 Bickersteth professes to have taken his,) Dr. Clarke’s 
 Travels, and other sources. 
 
 Since first drawing up the Calendar (in March, 1822,) the 
 writer finds, from the Investigator, No. viii. vol. iv. p.379, 
 that Mr. Allen, in his book on Modern Judaism, has con¬ 
 troverted the hitherto established notion, that the Jews kept 
 two reckonings of the year, one of the civil, beginning in 
 September, the other of the ecclesiastical year, beginning in 
 March. This he has done with much force of argument. 
 But, as the other is the usually received mode, he has not 
 thought proper to alter it, but to make this remark, that the 
 question may be borne in mind; and the beginning of the 
 year at Tisri, or in September, suits best with the agricultural 
 year, which usually is considered as beginning with Michael¬ 
 mas or sowing-time, and ending with the ingathering or 
 hawest. 
 
 Calendar 
 
The Calendar of the Jews, shewing the Seasons of the \ear, 
 the Time of the Public Festivals ,— 
 
 JEWISH 
 
 MONTHS. 
 
 Answering 
 
 the 
 
 Moons of 
 
 Months: 
 
 civil yr. 
 
 Months: 
 
 sacr’d yr 
 
 Seasons. 
 
 Gen. viii. 
 24. 
 
 FESTIVALS, &c. 
 
 Tisri, or 
 Ethanim. 
 
 Septem¬ 
 
 ber. 
 
 1st. 
 
 7 th. 
 
 Hot 
 
 season 
 
 1. New Moon, the beginning of the 
 civil year. The Feast of Trarapets, 
 Levit. xxiii. 24, 25. Numb. xxix. 1. 
 
 
 
 
 
 ) 
 
 10. Day of Atonement, or Fast of 
 Asbnra, Leviticus xvi. 29—SI. xxiii. 
 27— 32. 
 
 1 Kings 
 viii. 2. 
 
 2 Chron. 
 v. 3. 
 
 
 
 
 
 15. Feast of Tabernacles, or of In-ga¬ 
 thering. First-frnits of wine and oil 
 offered, Levit. xxiii. 34—43. 
 
 
 October. 
 
 
 
 
 22. Last day of tbe feast. 
 
 Marches, 
 van, or 
 Bui. 
 
 
 2nd. 
 
 8th. 
 
 Seed 
 
 time. 
 
 19. Fast to expiate tbe crimes com¬ 
 mitted on account of the Feast of Ta¬ 
 bernacles. 
 
 1 Kings 
 vi. 38. 
 
 Novem¬ 
 
 
 
 In this month tbe Jews prayed for the 
 rain, which they call Jore , or the au¬ 
 tumnal rain, which was very season¬ 
 able for their seed. 
 
 
 
 ber. 
 
 
 
 
 
 Kisleu, 
 
 or 
 
 Cbisleu, 
 
 or 
 
 Casleu. 
 
 
 3d. 
 
 9th. 
 
 > 
 
 25. The Feast of Dedication, or renew¬ 
 ing of the Temple, or Feast of Lights, 
 1 Maccab. iv. 52, 59. 2 Maccab. i. 18. 
 ii. 16. x. 5—8. John x. 22. Lasted 
 eight days. 
 
 \ 
 
 Zech. 
 vii. 1. 
 Neh. i. 1. 
 1 Mace. 
 iv. 52,59. 
 
 Decem¬ 
 
 ber. 
 
 
 
 > 
 
 Win¬ 
 
 ter. 
 
* I 
 
 The State of the Weather, and some of the Productions of the 
 
 Earth, in Palestine. 
 
 WEATHER, PRODUCTIONS, ke. 
 
 In September the mercury is about the same (according to Russel, 
 at Aleppo,) as at the latter end of August, 85° or 86°, except that 
 iu the afternoon it rises higher. In rainy weather it falls 3 d or 4°, 
 till it gets down to 65°.; but the variation of one day does not 
 exceed 3° or 4®; and, when it rains, 1« or 2°. 
 
 Great heat in the day, and nights cold. 
 
 Rain frequently falls at the latter end of this month. 
 
 There are abundance of grapes ripe, and citrons and oranges, pome¬ 
 granates, pears, and plums. 
 
 Cotton is gathered ripe. 
 
 They begin to plow and sow. 
 
 In October, the Mercury in the morning stands, for the most part, 
 before the rainy days, at 72®. It does not rise in the afternoon 
 above 5° or 6®. After the rains, it descends gradually to (K)°. The 
 variation of one day seldom, on rainy days never, exceeds 3® or 4°. 
 
 Sometimes the rainy season, (called the early or former rain, Deut. 
 xi. 14. Hosea vi. 3. Joel ii. 23. James v. 7.) 
 
 The extreme heat is now abated. 
 
 The dew is more plentiful than with us. 
 
 Wheat and barley are sown. 
 
 The latter grapes are gathered. 
 
 In November, as the month advances, the mercury gradually falls from 
 60° to 6(R The variation of one day is not more than from 2° to 5°. 
 
 If the rainy season has not begun, it certainly commences this month. 
 
 The heat of the sun is considerable in the day, but the nights are very 
 cold. 
 
 General sowing of corn in this month. 
 
 VOL. VIII.— NO. 3. 
 
 z 
 

 Sebat, 
 
 or 
 
 Shebeth, 
 
 Zecli. i. 
 
 7. 
 
 
 
 Adar. 
 
 •Ezra 
 vi. 15. 
 Esther 
 iii. 7. 
 
 Ve-adar,or 
 the second 
 Adar,comes 
 in here, 
 when an 
 additional 
 month is 
 wanted. 
 
 Februa¬ 
 ry- 
 
 March. 
 
 5th, 
 
 6th, 
 
 11th 
 
 12th 
 
 > 
 
 Cold 
 
 season 
 
 15. The beginning of the year of Trees . 
 They then begin to count the four 
 years, during which the trees were 
 judged unclean, from the time of their 
 planting, Levit. xix. 23—25. Some 
 place the beginning of these four years 
 on the first day of the month. 
 
 13. A Fast. Esth. iv. 16. 
 
 14 and 15. The Feast of Purim, or 
 Lots. Esth. ix. 17—21. 
 
 15. The collectors of the half shekel 
 paid by every Israelite, Exod. xxx. 
 13, received it on Adar 15, in the 
 cities; and on the 25th in the temple. 
 
 23. Dedication of the temple of Zerub- 
 babel. Ezr. vi. 10. 
 
Weather, Productions of the Earth, 6,'c. 
 
 317 
 
 WEATHER, PRODUCTIONS, &c. 
 
 In December, the mercury usually stands all the month at about 46°. 
 It frequently gets up in the afternoon, if there is no rain, 3^. 
 
 Rain falls in this month. 
 
 Frost and snow. The cold is sometimes very piercing, so that per¬ 
 sons have sometimes perished from it. The snow seldom remains 
 all day upon the ground. When the sun shines, and there is a 
 calm, the atmosphere is hot. 
 
 Corn and pulse are sown. Grass and herbs spring up after the rain. 
 
 Flocks brought from the mountains into the plains. 
 
 In January, at 9 A. M. the mercury between 40° and 40® docs not rise 
 above 3° or 4 - in the afternoon. On rainy or cloudy days it sel¬ 
 dom exceeds 1° or 2'% and frequently does not rise at all. 
 
 There is suow on the mountains, but near Jericho the cold is hardly 
 felt. The winter is chiefly remarkable for frequent showers, which 
 fall more at night than in the day. By these the brooks, rivers, &c. 
 swell ; and especially the river Jordan and the Dead Sea. 
 
 The cold is never so severe as to prevent the farmers sowing their 
 lands. All kinds of corn sown. Towards the middle of the month, 
 when the sky is clear, it is so hot, that travellers with difliculty 
 prosecute their journey. 
 
 Most trees are in leaf before those of the preceding year are entirely 
 fallen off. The winter fig is still found on the trees, though stripped 
 of leaves. The almond tree in blossom. 
 
 Beans in blossom. 
 
 In February, for the first fourteen days, the mercury usually stands 
 between 42° and 47°; afterwards, except the weather should become 
 cold, it rises gradually to oO\ 
 
 Chiefly remarkable for rain. Towards the middle of the month the 
 snows and winter colds cease. 
 
 Barley sometimes sown at Aleppo, till the beginning of this month. 
 
 The peach tree and early apple in blossom. 
 
 Cauliflowers at Aleppo in great plenty. 
 
318 The Calendar of the Jews :—Seasotis, Festivals, 
 
 JEWISH 
 
 MONTHS. 
 
 Nisan,or 
 
 Abib. 
 
 Exod.xii 
 xiii. 4. 
 Neh.ii.l. 
 Esth. iii. 
 7. 
 
 Answering 
 
 the 
 
 Moon9 of 
 
 2 o 
 
 .. u 
 
 Jg ^ 
 2 :? 
 
 Seasons. 
 
 FESTIVALS, &c. 
 
 J Cold. 
 
 March. 
 
 7th. 
 
 10. The Israelites passed over Jordan* 
 which was then overflowed. 
 
 On this day every one provided him¬ 
 self a lamb or a kid for the passover. 
 
 14. In the evening, the Paschal Lamb 
 killed. 
 
 Put away all leavened bread. 
 
 15. The Passover, Feast of unleavened 
 bread. After sun-set they gathered a 
 sheaf of Barley, which they brought 
 
 into the Temple. 
 
 16. The Sheaf of Barley, as the first- 
 fruits of the harvest, offered. 
 
 April. 
 
 The beginning of Harvest. 
 
 From this day they begin to count 50 
 days, to the Feast of Pentecost. 
 
 21. The end of the Passover and unlea¬ 
 vened Bread. The Jews in this month 
 prayed for the latter rain . 
 
 Ijar, or 
 Zif. 
 
 8th. 
 
 2nd. 
 
 1 Kings 
 vi. 1. 
 
 6. They fasted three days for excesses 
 committed daring the Feast of the 
 Passover, that is, on Monday, Thurs¬ 
 day, and the Monday following. 
 
 Har- 
 
 '> vest. 
 
 14. The Second Passover (Numb. ix. 
 10, 11.) in favour of those who could 
 not, or were not suffered to celebrate 
 the Passover the last month. 
 
 May. 
 
 Sivan. 
 
 9th. 
 
 3d. 
 
 • ••••••• 
 
 6. Pentecost, or the Feast of Weeks. 
 The first-fruits of the Wheat Harvest 
 were presented in two Loaves made 
 with line flour and leaven. 
 
 Esther 
 viii« 9. 
 
 June. 
 
 Sum¬ 
 
 mer. 
 
I 
 
 Weather, Productions of the Earth , fyc. 319 
 
 WEATHER, PRODUCTIONS, &c. 
 
 In March, in the middle of the month, the mercury stands at 52*% 
 towards the latter end, between 56° and 58°. In the beginning of 
 the month, it does not rise in the afternoon above 5° ; towards the 
 end 8° or 9*. 
 
 Ewes yean their lambs. 
 
 Rain, called the latter rain , Dent. xi. 14. Zech. x. 1.) which prepares 
 for the harvest, and makes the grain swell. The rivers swell from 
 the rain, and thawing of the snow. 
 
 Great heat in the plains of Jericho; persons have died through the 
 heat of the sun. 
 
 Barley ripe at Jericho; and the wheat is in the ear, and beginning to 
 ripen. 
 
 The fig-tree blossoms even while the winter fig is on the tree. 
 
 The vine produces the first clusters; about Sidon they have a triple 
 produce in the year. 
 
 Oranges ripe. 
 
 In April the mercury rises gradually from 60° to 66°. In the after¬ 
 noon, when the sky is clear, rises 8 P or 10“. 
 
 Frequent rains. Heat excessive near Jericho. Grass very high. 
 
 The harvest depends on the duration of the rainy season. 
 
 Barley generally cut down this month. 
 
 Wheat begins to ripen. 
 
 Locusts appear. 
 
 In May, at the beginning of the month, the mercury reaches 70“, then 
 it rises gradually from 76“ to 80.“ In the afternoon it rises 6“ or 9®. 
 
 The snow on Libanus thaws rapidly. 
 
 The grass and herbs have grow n in some places above a yard high. 
 Hay probably made now—and sheep-shearing. 
 
 Barley sometimes not all cut down till this month. Wheat is cut. 
 Dr. Clarke, (vol. ii. 4to. p. 464,) near Tiberias, says, “ the harvest 
 of w'heat and barley ended in June; but the oats were still stand¬ 
 ing.” 
 
 Early apples ripe. 
 
 Excessive beat sometimes renders the earth barren, as a sharp winter 
 does with us.—North and east winds increase heat. West wind 
 decreases it at Aleppo. 
 
320 The Calendar of the Jews :— Seasons, Festivals, 
 
 JEWISH 
 
 MONTHS. 
 
 Answering 
 
 the 
 
 Moons of 
 
 Months: 
 
 civil yr. 
 
 Months: 
 
 sacr'il yr 
 
 Seasons. 
 
 FESTIVALS, &c. 
 
 Tham- 
 
 muz, 
 
 or 
 
 Tamrauz. 
 
 June. 
 
 lOtli 
 
 4th. 
 
 
 Sum¬ 
 
 mer. 
 
 17. A Fast in memory of the Tables 
 of the Law broken by Moses. Exod. 
 xxxii. 19. 
 
 July. 
 
 Ab, or 
 Lons. 
 
 nth 
 
 5 th. 
 
 > 
 
 
 9. A Fast of the 5th month, in memory 
 of God’s declaring to Moses on this 
 day that none of the murmuring Is¬ 
 raelites should enter the Land of 
 Promise. Numb. xiv. 29—31. 
 
 On the same day the Temple was 
 taken and burnt: Solomon’s Temple 
 first, bv the Chaldeans; Herod’s af¬ 
 terwards, by the Romans. 
 
 14th. The Xylophory, or Festival of 
 bringing Wood to the Temple. 
 
 August. 
 
 Elul. 
 
 ) 
 
 | 
 
 Neb. vi. 
 15. 
 
 i 
 
 12th 
 
 i 
 
 6 th. 
 
 t 
 
 l 
 
 ^ Hot 
 season 
 
 17. A Fast for the Death of the Spies 
 who brought an evil report of the 
 Land of Promise. Numb. xiv. 36, 37. 
 
 29. This is the last day of the month 
 on which the Jews reckoned up the 
 beasts that had been horn, the tenths 
 of which belonged to God. They 
 chose this day to do it in, because 
 the first day of the month Tizri was a 
 festival, and therefore they could not 
 tithe a flock on that day. 
 
 Septem¬ 
 
 ber. 
 
Weather, Productions of the Earth, §c. 
 
 321 
 
 WEATHER, PRODUCTIONS, &c. 
 
 In June, as the month advances, the mercury gradually rises in the 
 morning from 76® to 80®. In the afternoon it stands between 81° 
 and 92®. 
 
 Between Cana and Hatti, in the middle of the day, July 5, Dr. Clarke 
 says, “The mercury, in a gloomy recess under ground, perfectly 
 shaded, while the scale was placed so as not to touch the rock, re¬ 
 mained at 100* of Fahrenheit. The same afternoon it was 102J in 
 the shade/’—Thermometer same day in London, 70® two p. m. 
 
 Not cold even at night. The inhabitants pass their nights on the 
 roofs of their houses. Silkworms on trees at night. 
 
 Rain is now very rare. 
 
 July 7, Dr. Clarke saw the richest pasture on the plain of Esdraelon, 
 (vol. ii. p. 497,) and on the 10th on the plain of Jericho, (583.) 
 
 “ AVe observed plantations of tobacco then in bloom; of Indian corn; 
 of millet, which was still green ; of melons, pumpkins, and cucum¬ 
 bers/’—lb. p.464.-Rice and early figs ripen. 
 
 In July, the mercury usually stands in the beginning of the month at 
 80° ; towards the eud at 85° or 86°. It rises in the afternoon about 
 8° or 10.®. 
 
 The heat is still more intense. Libanus is, for the most part, freed 
 from snow, except in places not exposed to the sun. Auti-Libanus 
 is always covered with snow. 
 
 The cactus ficus-Indicus ripe.—Dr. Clarke, vol. ii. p. 401. 
 
 Dates ripe at Jericho. 
 
 In August, at Aleppo, according to Russel, the weather is the same 
 during the first twenty days as in the preceding month ; afterwards 
 white clouds, commonly called niliaca:, larger than those which are 
 observed in the early part of the summer, rise, for the most part, 
 till the end of the month. Dew falls now; but not in any great 
 quantity. 
 
 The mercury, until those days when the clouds rise, continues the 
 same as in the last month ; afterwards it falls 4® or 5®. 
 
 The heat is extreme. 
 
 Ripe figs at Jerusalem,—and ripe olives near Jericho. 
 
 Pomegranates ripe. 
 
 Grapes ripe, and the clusters very large. 
 
 t 
 
322 
 
 REVIEW. 
 
 An Authentic Copy of the Minutes of Evidence, on the Trial 
 of John Smith, a Missionary, in Demerara; held at the 
 Colony House, in George 2 own, Demerara, on Monday, 
 the 13 th day of October, 1823, and 27 following days; on a 
 Charge of exciting the Negroes to Rebellion; copied verba¬ 
 tim, from a Report ordered to be printed by the House of 
 Commons, 22 d of March, 1824. With an Appendix, includ¬ 
 ing the Affidavit of Mrs. J ane Smith; the Retit ion presented 
 to the House of Commons, from the Directors of the Lon¬ 
 don Missionary Society; Letters of Mr. John Smith; and 
 other interesting Documents. London, 1824. Burton. 
 8vo. pp. 179 
 
 2. The London Missionary Society’s Report of the Proceed¬ 
 ings against the late Rev. J. Smith, of Demerara, Minis¬ 
 ter of the Gospel, who was tried under the Martial Law, 
 and condemned to Death, on a Charge of aiding and assist¬ 
 ing in a Rebellion of the Negro Slaves; from a full and 
 correct Copy, transmitted to England, by Mr. Smith’s 
 Counsel, and including the Documentary Evidence omitted 
 in the Parliamentary Copy: with an Appendix, containing 
 the Letters and Statements of Mr. and Mrs. Smith, Mrs. 
 Elliot, Air. Arrindell, <§rc.; and, also, the Society’s Petition 
 to the House of Commons. The whole Published under the 
 Authority of the Directors of the said Society. London, 
 1824. Westley. 8vo. p. 211. 
 
 The interest excited by the trial and death of Mr. Smith, 
 the late excellent and justly lamented missionary of the 
 London Missionary Society, to the island of Demerara, has 
 been so deep and universal, that we are assured of standing- 
 more than excused with our readers, for devoting a consi¬ 
 derable portion of our journal to an examination of the pro¬ 
 ceedings against him. Those proceedings are so perfectly 
 anomalous, and involve in them so many infractions of the 
 very first principles of justice, that wishing, as we do, most 
 fully to expose their illegality, we know not that we shall 
 have space left for any remarks upon the atrocity of the 
 conduct of those, whose narrow policy, short-sighted self- 
 interest, and bitter hostility to real religion, has converted 
 them into some of the most lawless persecutors—and their 
 injured, yet innocent victim, into one of the most lamented 
 martyrs, of modern times. At all events, these remarks, if 
 we can find opportunity to make them, must be reserved for 
 
323 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 the close of an article which we rather wish to distinguish 
 by legal investigation, and accurate examination of facts, 
 than by the strong expressions of indignant feeling, which we 
 doubt not that the heart of every reader will spontaneously 
 and abundantly supply. 
 
 The following, then, is a copy of the charges upon which 
 those proceedings are founded; extracted from the Minutes 
 of Evidence, on the Trial, as laid before the House of Com¬ 
 mons. 
 
 “ First Charge .—For that he, the said John Smith, long previous 
 to, and up to the time of a certain revolt and rebellion, which broke 
 out in this colony, on or about the 18th of August now last past, 
 did promote, as far as in him lay, discontent and dissatisfaction 
 in the minds of the negro slaves towards their lawful masters, 
 managers, and overseers, he, the said John Smith, thereby intend¬ 
 ing to excite the said negroes to break out in such open revolt and 
 rebellion against the authority of their lawful masters, managers, 
 and overseers, contrary to his allegiance, and against the peace of 
 our sovereign lord the king, his ciown and dignity. 
 
 “Second Charge .—For that he, the said John Smith, having, 
 about the 17th day of August last, and on divers other days and 
 times theretofore preceding, advised, consulted, and corresponded 
 with a certain negro named Quamina, touching and concerning a 
 certain intended revolt and rebellion of the negro slaves within 
 these colonies of Demerara and Essequibo; and further, after such 
 revolt and rebellion had actually commenced, and was in a course 
 of prosecution, he, the said John Smith, did further aid and assist 
 in such rebellion, by advising, consulting, and corresponding, 
 touching the same, with the said negro Quamina; to wit, on the 
 19th and 20th August last past, he, the said John Smith, then well 
 knowing such revolt and rebellion to be in progress, and the said 
 negro Quamina to be an insurgent engaged therein. 
 
 “ Third Charge .—For that he, the said John Smith, on the 17th 
 August last past, and for a certain period of time thereto preced¬ 
 ing, having come to the knowledge of a certain revolt and rebel¬ 
 lion, intended to take place within this colony, did not make known 
 the same to the proper authorities, which revolt and rebellion did 
 subsequently take place; to wit, on or about the 18th of August 
 now last past. 
 
 “ Fourth Charge .—For that he, the said John Smith, after such 
 revolt and rebellion had taken place, and during the existence 
 thereof, to wit, on or about Tuesday and Wednesday, the 19th and 
 20th of August now last past, was at plantation Le Resouvenir in 
 presence of and held communication with Quamina, a negro of 
 plantation Success, he, the said John Smith, then well knowing 
 the said Quamina to be an insurgent engaged therein, and that he, 
 the said John Smith, did not use his utmost endeavours to sup- 
 
324 
 
 Review.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 press the same, by securing or detaining the said insurgent 
 Quamina, as a prisoner, or by giving information to the proper 
 authorities, but, on the contrary, permitted the said insur¬ 
 gent Quamina to go at large and depart, without attempting to 
 seize and detain him, and without giving any information respect¬ 
 ing him to the proper authorities, against the peace of our sovereign 
 lord the king, his'crown and dignity, and against the laws in force 
 in this colony, and in defiance of the proclamation of martial-law 
 issued by his excellency, the lieutenant-governor.” [p. 6, 7.] 
 
 / 
 
 To collect from a document so ill drawn, the precise legal 
 description of the offences charged against the prisoner, is 
 a task to which, we undertake to say, no lawyer in Westmin- 
 ster-hall is equal. The first—if it be any thing—is a mis¬ 
 demeanour only; for we have yet to learn that to excite negro 
 slaves to open revolt and rebellion against the authority of their 
 lawful masters, managers, and overseers, has any thing in it le¬ 
 gally approximating to treason against the king, and against 
 his government; an actual and overt attempt by force and 
 violence to overturn which, alone constitutes this species of 
 the highest offence known to the English law, which has pro¬ 
 vided, with most rigorous and unwonted caution, against 
 the constructive extension of that offence, to crimes of an¬ 
 other character, and a less enormous guilt. The second 
 would certainly savour of a misprision of this great offence, 
 were there any thing like a definite description of the revolt 
 and rebellion of the negro slaves referred to, which if not ex¬ 
 pressly laid to be against the king, and to overthrow his 
 government, is, as a charge of treason, to all intents and 
 purposes, void. Those rules of construction which must 
 be familiar to every one who has learnt his grammar, nay, 
 common sense itself indeed, would rather lead to a contrary 
 conclusion, that the revolt and rebellion charged in the 
 second count, is the same strange nondescript offence 
 stated in the first; and that, as we have already shewn, can 
 be but a misdemeanour, though, to this, upon the principles 
 of our common law, it would, we apprehend, amount, as we 
 are far from contending for the propriety or legality of such 
 instigations, where a state of slavery is by law permitted to 
 exist. The third charge is, however, clearly a piece of 
 waste paper, inasmuch as it merely imputes to the accused 
 a knowledge of an intention in certain parties to commit a 
 crime, without averring that he did any thing to promote 
 that intention, or neglected to do every thing in his power 
 to dissuade the conspirators from the execution of it. Not 
 to make known the intention of another, where no overt act 
 
325 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 in pursuance of that intention, has been committed, has 
 not yet been held an offence within the cognizance of any 
 of our courts, that most arbitrary, unconstitutional, and 
 tyrannical one, the star-chamber, not excepted. The last of 
 these notable charges is also an offence of a very equivocal 
 description; as the indictment of a private individual, not 
 bound by his office, or under any command from a person 
 so bound to assist him, for not doing his utmost to take an 
 offender, would, at least, be a proceeding in our English 
 courts, not warranted by the practice of modern times, 
 though we admit that our old text writers treat such a non- 
 feazanceas a misdemeanour at common law, punishable with 
 fine and imprisonment. Beyond a misdemeanour, at all 
 events, no English lawyer could, at the very furthest, attempt 
 to rank it. 
 
 Making, therefore, every allowance for the difference in 
 precision between charges preferred before a court-martial, 
 and an indictment in our ordinary courts of criminal jurisdic¬ 
 tion, it will be evident that by no stretch of ingenuity can 
 any offence, cognizable in the latter, beyond a misdemea¬ 
 nour, be extracted from the two last charges; whilst even 
 the two former, from the mode in which they are framed, 
 really amount to nothing more. We presume, however, that 
 they were meant by the legal adviser who drew them, (and 
 well is it for his reputation as a lawyer, that his name is not 
 attached to them) for misprisions of treason; and as imput¬ 
 ing such a charge, we are willing to examine them, and the 
 proceedings of which they were the foundation. 
 
 But we shall first inquire a little into the constitution 
 and jurisdiction of the court. It was avowedly a general 
 court-martial, which, in its ordinary jurisdiction, and in 
 quiet times, has not, and cannot have, any authority to try 
 others than soldiers ; nor them, but for offences relative to 
 their conduct and discipline as such. True it is, indeed, 
 that in times of actual revolt and rebellion, the legis¬ 
 lature has been in the habit of having recourse to insurrec¬ 
 tion acts, and other proceedings of extraordinary rigour, 
 alw ays viewed with the extremest jealousy, and j ustitiable but 
 upon the emergency of the case, whereby the ordinary 
 course of justice has, for a while, been superseded, by the 
 proclamation of martial law in the insurgent districts. By 
 this course, the whole population of those districts is, for 
 the time, treated as soldiers; subjected to the laws by which 
 they are governed, and, therefore, rendered amenable to 
 what Blackstone very properly describes, “ as a vast and 
 
326 Review.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 most important trust, an unlimited power, to create crimes, 
 and annex to them any punishment not extending to life and 
 death.’ In capital cases, it must, however, be remembered, that 
 the crown has no such power of creating offences which, even 
 on an ex post facto law, might be visited by death. Those 
 higher offences are thus specified in the mutiny act, annually 
 passed for the regulation of the army, making, as we do, our 
 quotation from the 4th Geo. IV. c. xiii., the one passed 
 on the 24th of March, 1823, and under the authority of 
 which, this court must have been convened. If any per¬ 
 son who is or shall be commissioned, or in pay as an officer, 
 or who is or shall be commissioned, or in pay, as a non¬ 
 commissioned officer or soldier, shall at any time, during 
 the continuance of this act, begin, create, cause, or join, in 
 any mutiny, or sedition, in his majesty’s land or marine 
 forces, or shall not use his utmost endeavour to suppress the 
 same, or, coming to the knowledge of any mutiny or intended 
 mutiny, shall not without delay give information thereof to 
 his commanding officer; or shall misbehave himself before 
 the enemy, or shall shamefully abandon, or deliver up any 
 garrison, fortress, post, or guard, committed to his charge, 
 or which he shall be commanded to defend, or shall compel 
 the governor, or commanding officer, of any garrison, for¬ 
 tress, or post, to deliver up to the enemy, or to abandon the 
 same, or shall speak words, or use any other means, to in¬ 
 duce such governor, or commanding officer, or others, to 
 misbehave before the enemy, or shamefully to abandon or 
 deliver up any garrison, fortress, post, or guard, committed 
 to their respective charge, or which he or they shall be com¬ 
 manded to defend; or shall leave his post before relieved, or 
 shall be found sleeping on his post; or shall hold corre¬ 
 spondence with, or give advice or intelligence to, any rebel, 
 or enemy of his majesty, either by letters, messages, signs, 
 or tokens, in any manner or way whatever, or shall treat, or 
 enter into any terms, with such rebel or enemy, without his 
 majesty’s license, or those of his general or chief com¬ 
 mander; or shall strike or use any violence against his supe¬ 
 rior officer, being in the execution of his office; or shall dis¬ 
 obey any lawful command of his superior officer; or shall 
 desert his majesty’s service : all and every person so offend¬ 
 ing in any of the matters before mentioned, whether such 
 offences shall be committed within this realm, or in any 
 other of his majesty’s dominions, or in foreign parts, or upon 
 land or upon the sea, shall suffer death, or such other punish¬ 
 ment as, by a court martial, shall be awarded.” Supposing, 
 
327 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 therefore, that the prisoner had been a soldier, instead of a 
 missionary, it is evident, that, at least, on the second, and, 
 perhaps, on the fourth of these charges, he would be amen¬ 
 able to capital punishment under the mutiny act, as he 
 would also be upon the other two, provided the population 
 of the island had previously been duly called out as soldiers, 
 on account of the insurrection there, in the course of which 
 martial law had duly been proclaimed. But the latter had 
 not been done in Demarara, nor could it be; for if the gover¬ 
 nor there seeks to justify himself, as he is understood to do, 
 by the provisions of the mutiny act, annually past by the 
 British parliament, for the regulation of the land-forces of 
 the empire, whether employed in the colonies or at home, 
 he must shew a legislative authority for subjecting the civil 
 population of the island to the severe operation of the mili¬ 
 tary code, as, what the king could not do by his own prero¬ 
 gative here, it is not to be supposed that his representative 
 can do in a distant dependency of the empire. As a con¬ 
 quered colony, Demarara may be, and, perhaps is, subject 
 but to its own laws, under the immediate direction of the 
 king in council, rather than of the British parliament in its 
 three estates. If this be insisted upon, the mutiny bill is 
 quite out of the question; and some act of the colonial legis¬ 
 lature—some proclamation of the king in council here—or 
 some provision of the Dutch laws, still in force there, must 
 be adduced, to justify the proceedings of a court, which other¬ 
 wise had no jurisdiction over the person whom, or the mat¬ 
 ter which, they tried. To neither of these, however, was 
 the slightest allusion made during the course of the proceed¬ 
 ings, which were obviously founded upon the English mutiny 
 act alone; but it was reserved for the learning and ingenuity 
 of a member of the English bar, for whose opinion vve, in 
 common with the rest of his friends, entertain the highest 
 respect, to discover a justification, of which no one before 
 had ever dreamed. In his maiden speech in the House of 
 Commons, Mr. Tindal, after admitting unequivocally,—as a 
 lawyer, of attainments so rare, as ere long to place him at 
 the head of his profession, could not fail to do,—that this 
 court-martial had no jurisdiction by the English law—cited 
 the authority of the Institutes Novella and Pandects, with 
 half a dozen heavy Batavian and German commentators upon 
 them, to prove, that by the civil law, the mere concealment 
 of an intended treasonable insurrection, in which you were 
 to take no part, was a capital offence; and that therefore, 
 as the civil law was the basis of the Dutch law# and the 
 
328 Review.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 Dutch law the basis of the colonial law of Demerara, such 
 concealment must be a misprision of treason there, though 
 in England it would be no offence at all, or if any, one of 
 the very lowest and lightest grade. Unfortunately, how¬ 
 ever, for the ingenuity and research, which we have often 
 seen more effectually exerted by the same individual in a 
 desperate cause, the code to which he appealed, as a justifi¬ 
 cation of those who professed not to act under its authority, 
 knows nothing of martial-law; and therefore, unless the ac¬ 
 cused had been tried by the ordinary courts of the colony, 
 that code was as grossly outraged and set at nought, as was 
 confesssedly the case with the English law. From the 
 equal and total want of jurisdiction in either case, it neces¬ 
 sarily follows therefore, that had the governor ventured to 
 carry into execution the sentence which they pronounced, 
 he himself, and every member of the court which he ille¬ 
 gally appointed, would, in the eye of the law, have been a 
 murderer, and, as such, have been subjected to the punish¬ 
 ment of death, which they illegally pronounced upon an¬ 
 other. That this would have been their situation, had 
 their temerity carried them so far, no lawyer can, we are 
 satisfied, for a moment doubt, as it is expressly laid down 
 by Lord Coke, and other law writers of the first authority, 
 that the putting a man to death by martial-law in time of 
 peace, is murder; and that the colony was perfectly tranquil 
 when Mr. Smith was tried and sentenced, and for weeks and 
 months before, has never been denied. 
 
 In ordinary cases, therefore, this want of jurisdiction (to 
 which, by the way, Mr. Smith was most improperly deprived 
 of all opportunity of effectually objecting, by being required 
 to plead before counsel was assigned him, and thereby ad¬ 
 mitting the authority of the court, and inadvertently, and in 
 ignorance of the forms of law, waving all objection to its 
 jurisdiction,) would put an end to the inquiry. But we wish 
 not so to get rid of the fullest investigation into the guilt or 
 innocence of Mr. Smith,—yet ere we pass on to the evidence 
 adduced against him, and the manner in which it was met, 
 we must say a word or two upon the defence offered by the 
 advocates of his persecutors, for not sending him to trial 
 before the proper civil tribunal; namely, that a court-martial 
 was the only court before which he could hope for a fair 
 trial. If this was the case, (and, alas! there is no reason to 
 doubt that his chance of a fair trial at all, in Demarara, 
 was abundantly small enough,) what a melancholy picture 
 does it exhibit of the administration of justice there! But 
 
329 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 still this cannot excuse the sending him before a military 
 commission, to which he was not amenable, and thus 
 depriving him of the advantages he would have been en¬ 
 titled to by the judicial proceedings of the civil courts. 
 The latter are notoriously more formal, precise, and slow, 
 in their operations, than are the former, which, in times of 
 insurrection especially, more nearly resemble the forced 
 marches with which its judges are familiar, or even the 
 hasty and disorderly retreats which they must at least 
 have witnessed, than the solemn and decorous proceedings 
 of those sages of the law, who sit in judgment of life and 
 limb upon their fellow-creatures. Before the latter, such 
 an ill-drawn, vague, and uncertain instrument, as the 
 charges against Mr. Smith, could never have been sus¬ 
 tained; as, could even a jury have been found thick-headed 
 or prejudiced enough to have convicted him capitally 
 upon it, or one like unto it—it would clearly have been 
 quashed upon amotion in arrest of judgment: but with the 
 former, any thing imputing guilt was held a sufficient de¬ 
 scription of an offence, for which was awarded the extreme 
 punishment of the law. This might have been expected 
 from the lieutenant-colonel, six captains, four lieutenants, 
 and three second-lieutenants, the military men composing 
 it; but, for the credit of the profession, it is to be hoped, 
 that it did not do so without earnest remonstrance from 
 Mr. Wray, the chief-justice of the colony, clapt as a lieu¬ 
 tenant colonel upon the militia staff, for no other purpose, 
 that we can discover, but by making him, as such, a mem¬ 
 ber of the court-martial, to deprive the prisoners tried before 
 it, of the appeal, which, by the laws of Demarara, it is said, 
 that they would otherwise have had, to him, as the chief 
 judicial officer of the island. Should it be pretended that 
 he was made a military man, to give the advantage of his 
 legal knowledge to a court which could possess none, we 
 hesitate not to say, that never was a comparatively good 
 intention so completely frustrated, by the incapacity or cri¬ 
 minal inertness of the agent selected for its accomplish¬ 
 ment—for never did country squire, just come of age, and 
 acting for the first time as a justice of the peace, even in 
 his.zeal to convict a poacher, admit such gross violations of 
 the very a b c of the law of evidence, as disgraces this 
 mock trial of Mr. Smith. Of Mr. Wray we know nothing 
 but by report, yet, deducting from the eulogium pronounced 
 upon him by Mr. Scarlett, the percentage to which what¬ 
 ever that gentleman advances upon West India affairs is 
 
330 Review.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 fairly subjected, from his Jamaica birth, connexions, and 
 property, we fearlessly affirm, that it is impossible for Mr. 
 Wray, as’a lawyer, to have sat upon this extraordinary com¬ 
 mission, without being repeatedly left in a minority, whilst 
 vainly endeavouring to teach his military colleagues a 
 little respect for, and compliance with, the wholesome 
 forms of law; or else he must have disgraced at once the 
 post he fills, and the gown he wears, by conduct, which we 
 will not believe it possible for him, or any English barrister, 
 
 to have pursued. . 
 
 But the course adopted towards Mr. Smith in this selec- 
 tion of the tribunal before which he was to be brought, was 
 productive of still greater injustice to him, than would have 
 been this ousting of his right of appeal to the chief-justice of 
 the colony, even had he been the best, the ablest, and most 
 impartial judge that ever sat upon the bench; for it depri\ed 
 him of his appeal to the king in council, where it is not mat¬ 
 ter of speculation, but of certainty, that such a sentence as 
 was pronounced upon him, would have been indignantly 
 reversed. It is now matter of equal notoriety also, that had 
 it not been for the indecorous precipitancy evinced in De- 
 merara, to bring that injured individual to trial where every 
 possible prejudice was in full operation against him, the 
 order very properly despatched by our government for sending 
 him home, might have been obeyed; and then the dis¬ 
 grace of these proceedings would have been saved, and he 
 might have been alive, with every imputation upon his con¬ 
 duct satisfactorily removed, by the ready and unanimous 
 verdict of a jury of his country, if, indeed, the law-officers 
 of the crown could here have" discovered any offence for 
 which he was amenable. 
 
 From the constitution and jurisdiction of the court, pass 
 we on to a subject intimately connected with it, and form¬ 
 ing, indeed, a part of its former branch—the conduct of the 
 judge-advocate, and the nature of his office. The character he 
 sustains is a singular one; for, half public prosecutor, and half 
 judge, as his very official style and title obviously imports, 
 if there be one office more than another which requires the 
 exercise of unusual caution, temper, and discretion, unques¬ 
 tionably it is his. In our ordinary courts, the counsel 
 for the prosecution, at least on all capital and serious cases, 
 habitually refrains,—and, if he did not do so from a correct 
 knowledge of his duty, the judge would take care to con¬ 
 fine him within its strictest lines—from any thing which 
 can have the slightest tendency to prejudice the accused— 
 
331 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 and, satisfying himself with a condensed but correct out¬ 
 line ot what he expects to prove by legal evidence, he 
 carefully avoids every topic of aggravation against him— 
 and is bound as invariably to give him the benetit of every 
 the minutest circumstance that operates in his favour. 
 Should he, however, fail in discharging his duty, the judoe 
 is proverbially the prisoner’s friend : to the side'of mercy he 
 is bound to lean, and in his charges to the jury, his decisions 
 upon points of evidence and of law, he must, and does, allow 
 the slightest hesitation upon his mind, to turn the scale on 
 the prisoner’s side. As performing, therefore, in a manner, 
 the double duty of counsel for the prosecution, and of the 
 judge charging the jury upon the evidence, it especially 
 becomes a judge advocate to act upon this twofold merciful 
 provision of our English law, as administered in its ordinary 
 courts; and such, we believe, is the course uniformly ob¬ 
 served at home. But instead of it, what is the conduct of 
 the advocate-general, Victor Amadius Heliger, and his 
 assistant, Mr. Smith, who, from the indisposition of his 
 principal, discharged the more important and delicate part 
 of his functions, in the reply, or charge, for it may be cha¬ 
 racterized as either, and is, in fact, a combination of both ? 
 The former, instead of giving in his opening speech a brief 
 but accurate outline of the evidence he should adduce in 
 detail—instead of informing the court of the character of 
 his witnesses, and cautioning them, as he was bound to do, 
 of the strong suspicion to which the testimony of the prin¬ 
 cipal of them was exposed, from their having been them¬ 
 selves actors in the insurrection, which they now came for¬ 
 ward to charge Mr. Smith with exciting, and that therefore 
 they were, by law, unworthy of credit, unless they were 
 confirmed, in some important part of their story by other 
 and more credible witnesses,—instead of this, he merely 
 states to them in a speech, which it would take him, at the 
 utmost, five minutes to deliver, the circumstances which he 
 should prove, as indicative of the prisoner’s guilt; one half 
 of which he should have known, if he has any thing about 
 him of a lawyer but the name, could be no legal evidence in 
 the case. We give the speech entire, as well for the pur¬ 
 pose of enabling our readers to compare the offences stated, 
 with those attempted to be proved, and averred by the court 
 to have been so, as to shew how utterly destitute it was of 
 that information, as to the nature and character of the tes¬ 
 timony and witnesses to be produced, w r hich can alone ren¬ 
 der the address of a public prosecutor serviceable to a court 
 VOL. viii.—no. 3. 2 a 
 
332 Review,—-Minutes of Evidence on ihe 
 
 and jury on the one hand, or the prisoner on the other. By it 
 the former ought to be informed of the points to which their 
 attention should be particularly directed, in connecting the 
 chain of evidence bv which the guilt of the accused is 
 sought to be established, and in determining how far that 
 evidence is credible or admissible in point of law, (tor what 
 cannot legally be proved, according to the strictest rules of 
 evidence, must never be adduced in statement;) whilst tie 
 latter is so far apprised of who and what are to be sworn 
 against him, as that he may be the better able to manage 
 Ins defence. But that which was wanting in statement at 
 the beginning of the trial, was superabundantly made up 
 for at the close, where nothing but what was strictly proved 
 should have been summed up in the reply of the advocate, 
 whilst all that was doubtful or contradicted should have 
 been laid aside. That this was not done, but that, on the 
 contrary, every thing that could aggravate the prisoner’s 
 crime, all that could inflame, irritate, and mislead his judges, 
 was dexterously, but most unjustly and unprofessionally, 
 reserved for a stage of the proceedings at which the mouth 
 of the accused was closed, and he could have no opjiortunity 
 of exposing or commenting upon the falsehood of his pro¬ 
 secutors’ statements, his misrepresentations of the evidence, 
 or the injustice and unfairness of his deductions from it, we 
 undertake to prove, when the more convenient period for 
 doing so shall have arrived. At present we but transcribe 
 the opening speech of the judge-advocate, as given in the 
 parliamentary report:— 
 
 “ ‘ May it please the Court: 
 
 “ < Previous to my proceeding to the proof of the charges which 
 have been preferred by me against the prisoner, I feel it necessary 
 to make a brief statement of the case, in order to facilitate the 
 proving of the charges so preferred. I shall first adduce in evi¬ 
 dence, that the prisoner, even from the beginning of his arrival in 
 this colony, has begun to interfere with the complaints of the dif¬ 
 ferent negroes upon the estates in the district where he has been 
 admitted as a regular missionary. I shall further adduce evidence, 
 that this interference has not only related to the negro population 
 and their management, but also with regard to the acts and deeds 
 of the constituted authorities of this our country; that this kind of 
 interference has created discontent and dissatisfaction amongst 
 that part, viz. the negro population of this colony; that even his 
 opinion of the oppression under which they labour brought him to 
 that point, that he considered it necessary to expound to them such 
 parts of the gospel entirely relative to the oppressed state in which 
 he considered them to be. It shall further appear to you in evi- 
 
333 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 dence, that this has led at last to the tearing asunder the tie which 
 formerly united master and slave; and that open revolt was the 
 consequence of this state of discontent in which they had been 
 brought. It will also appear, that before the revolt broke out, the 
 prisoner was aware, not only of the intended rebellion to take place, 
 not only several days before, but also on the day immediately pre¬ 
 ceding the breaking out of the revolt. It shall be proved, that it 
 was not only a bare knowledge of the intended revolt, but he even 
 did consult and advise as to the difficulties they would have to 
 encounter from his majesty's troops, and from the white inhabitants 
 of the colony. It shall be proved, that, with this knowledge upon 
 his mind, he never attempted to give any information hereof to the 
 constituted authorities; that even on the day of the revolt, which 
 took place in the evening, the prisoner was in town, but that he left 
 town without having made that disclosure, which, as a faithful and 
 loyal subject, he was bound to do: not only this, but it shall also 
 be proved, that during the prosecution of the revolt, not only no 
 attempt was made of any disclosure on his side, but even that 
 immediately after the beginning of the revolt, on the first and se¬ 
 cond day, the prisoner did correspond with one of the insurgents, at 
 a time when he well knew that that insurgent was in open rebel¬ 
 lion ; not only that he did correspond with him, but he even did not 
 attempt to secure that insurgent, or to give such notice to the con¬ 
 stituted authorities by which that insurgent could have been laid 
 hold of; that though, perhaps, the prisoner at the moment might 
 have found some difficulty in conveying this intelligence to the 
 proper authority, that obstruction or "difficulty was entirely taken 
 away on the following day, when a detachment of militia arrived at 
 the dwelling of the prisoner, and by which he was enabled to give 
 such information as a loyal subject he was obliged to do. This, 
 gentlemen, is a brief statement of the case, and according to the 
 course which, in calling of the evidence, I intend to pursue.’ ” 
 [Ibid. pp. 7, 8.] 
 
 With respect to the first head of evidence, that which 
 went to prove the general conduct of Mr. Smith towards 
 the negro population, from the day of his commencing his 
 functions amongst them as a missionary downward, no one 
 possessing the slightest acquaintance with the proceedings 
 of our courts, can surely need to be reminded, that it couTd 
 not be evidence at all. By the laws of England, a man 
 must be brought to trial for a specific offence, of which the 
 indictment or written charge against him is to inform him, 
 with all the accuracy of time and place which the nature of 
 the case will admit of; but it is not to be endured, that he 
 is to be called upon to answer for the conduct of his whole 
 life, or even for any portion of it beyond that occupied in 
 the distinct offence with which he is definitely charged. 
 
 » 
 
334 
 
 Review—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 Even on an indictment for conspiracy, that drag-net of the 
 law so often resorted to by skilful practitioners, where all 
 other modes of securing a conviction fail, the evidence must 
 be confined to acts done in prosecution of the individual 
 purpose charged; and in these proceedings all the legal re¬ 
 quisites of a conspiracy are wanting alike in substance as in 
 form. Were it not thus, no man could be safe, for who 
 amongst us, when suddenly called upon, and at a moment 
 too which our accusers w’ould have the opportunity of select¬ 
 ing, because we were then the least prepared, could adduce 
 witnesses to speak to the whole course and conduct of his life 
 —a responsibility from which the best might shrink a dif¬ 
 ficulty which the wariest would be unable to surmount. 
 Were it otherwise, the difficulty of bringing home a particu¬ 
 lar felony or other crime to an individual, might readily be 
 obviated by proving him habitually a thief, a libeller, &.c. 
 instead of which, such is the proper jealousy of our law of 
 mixing up any thing prejudicial to a prisoner with the accu¬ 
 sation for which he is upon trial, that no previous bad cha¬ 
 racter or dishonest transaction, not even conviction after 
 conviction, is allowed to be given in evidence against him. 
 All this, we need scarcely remark, is put but byway of illus¬ 
 trating the shameful inattention to the first principles of 
 jurisprudence displayed upon this trial, not from any appre¬ 
 hension that the character and conduct of Mr. Smith would 
 not stand the severest scrutiny which his enemies might 
 chuse to'institute; yet such a scrutiny was, we repeat, highly 
 improper and illegal before such a court, whilst sitting in 
 judgment upon such a charge. It was also subject to 
 another objection, equally fatal to its legality, namely, that 
 it had relation entirely to circumstances occurring previous 
 to the proclamation of martial law, whilst the court had not 
 even the shadow of an authority to sit in judgment, but 
 on offences committed subsequent to such proclamation, 
 whence only could its jurisdiction, such as it was, by any 
 possibility arise. But to this point we shall have occasion 
 to refer again. 
 
 The next point in order, is the extraordinary piece of evi¬ 
 dence adduced, to support this sweeping condemnation of 
 the general conduct of the accused, in his private journal, 
 commencing in March, 1817, an extract from which, made 
 on the last day of that month and year, was received 
 in evidence of an abetting a revolt of the negroes of the 
 island in August, 1823. This most barefaced subversion 
 of every principle of justice contains in it so many flagrant 
 
335 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 perversions of the very first principles of the law of evi¬ 
 dence, that we know not how to express our astonishment 
 at its having been permitted in a court, in which men call¬ 
 ing themselves lawyers conducted the prosecution, and an 
 English barrister, who, the leading member of his profes¬ 
 sion in England, vouches to be a lawyer, and therefore, we 
 believe, sat as a judge. Besides what, as a lawyer, he 
 must have known, had he even been the merest tyro,—the 
 greatest booby, in his profession,—that no man can be an¬ 
 swerable in law for the contents of any writing which he 
 has not in some way published to others, (for whilst in his 
 ow n custody, and submitted to no eye but his, it can do no 
 more harm than would have been done, had the record of his 
 thoughts been impressed but on his memory,) surely no 
 member of the court, who had received the education of a 
 gentleman, could be ignorant of the gross injustice done to 
 Algernon Sidney, under the auspices of the blood-thirsty 
 and tyrannical Jefferies, in producing as evidence against 
 him, some manuscript discourses on government, taken, as 
 was Mr. Smith’s journal, from among his private papers,— 
 written, as was the greater part of that book, for his private 
 amusement,—and, as was the case here, never having been 
 communicated to a single person, not even to his wife. 
 “ The execution of Sidney,” says the high-prerogative his¬ 
 torian Hume, “ is regarded as one of the greatest blemishes 
 of this reign. The evidence against him, it must be confessed, 
 was not legal, and the jury who condemned him were for 
 that reason very blameable.” And what he has said of the 
 reign of the second Charles, and those who illegally con¬ 
 demned the gallant Sidney, will in far less measured terms 
 of condemnation be applied by every one who knows aught 
 of the legal institutions of his country, and the rights of its 
 citizens, to the island in which, and the judges by whom, 
 the persecuted Smith was condemned to as hard and un¬ 
 merited a fate. 
 
 They went, however, far beyond the hardihood of Jefferies, 
 and the obedient ministers of his diabolical purposes; for, 
 admitting, for the sake of argument, the legality of the evi¬ 
 dence of this journal, it is not a clearer proposition in mathe¬ 
 matics, that tw'o and two make four, tnan it is an acknow¬ 
 ledged principle of the law of evidence, that when a w ritten 
 document is put in, it must be read entire, and not in garbled 
 extracts, which, detached from each other, may, as every one 
 knows, be made to convey sentiments as opposite to those 
 of the writer, as is light to darkness. By such a procedure. 
 
336 Review .— 
 
 ._ Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 is not difficult to guess, as, from the tone of what has been 
 selected, it must be evident, that it contained much offen¬ 
 
 sive truth, coming but too closely home, there is every 
 reason to suppose, to the business and the bosoms of those 
 who were its author’s prosecutors or his judges. 
 
 Protesting therefore, in the strongest terms, against 
 the striking perversion of every principle of justice ex¬ 
 hibited in the production of these mere private memoranda 
 against the individual who made them, we yet shrink 
 not from the examination of them as proofs, not of what 
 they were selected for, the guilt of Mr. Smith, but of his 
 innocence—unless, indeed, it be a crime in a man to feel 
 for the miseries of his fellow men, to burn with indig¬ 
 nation when he sees them treated with more ciuel indignity 
 than the brutes which perish, and to long, and hope, and 
 pray for the arrival of that happy period, when the negro 
 shall be delivered from his fetters, and walk abroad in the 
 full and erect dignity of man. And if this be a crime, rather 
 would wo suffer for it the death of Mr. Smith, than endure 
 hereafter the self-upbraiding torments of those, whose 
 wishes and whose hopes (for pray assuredly they dare not) 
 are breathed and formed but for the continuation of a system 
 of tyranny, and contumely, and wrong, worthy but of fiends 
 instead of men. The first offence with which he is charged 
 in this strange record of his sins, is that of preventing the 
 negro members of his flock from living in. a state, of 
 adultery, and reconciling them by the force of his Christian 
 admonition to each other. Is this, we ask, treason even 
 against the state of Demarara? Assuredly it is not, but 
 rather the quiet and unostentatious performance of one of 
 the most obvious duties of a minister of the gospel of Jesus 
 Christ. Another accusation is, that when some of the ne¬ 
 groes had complained to him of very severe treatment, he told 
 one of their overseers that he thought he would work them 
 to death; and the record of his humane remonstrance, for 
 his private use, is, at a distance of six years, gravely adduced 
 by the public prosecutor of the colony, as a proof of treason¬ 
 able intentions against the king and government. Never 
 sure was such a perversion of justice and common sense ex¬ 
 hibited in any court since the days of Jefferies and the 
 
337 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 Popish plot. But in the present case it is not singular in 
 illegality or absurdity, as, among other of the judge advo¬ 
 cate’s notable proofs of treason, selected with great care from 
 the private repository of the offender’s thoughts, are the fol¬ 
 lowing opinions on the state of slavery in the island, as daily 
 exhibited before his eyes, and which, in spite of Mr. Fiscal 
 Victor Amadius Heliger’s denunciation of them, we hesi¬ 
 tate not to pronounce alike honourable to their writer’s head 
 and heart. 
 
 “ ‘ September 13, 1817, page 17.—This evening a negro belong¬ 
 ing to-, came to me, saying, the manager was so 
 
 cruel to him that he could not bear it. According to the man’s 
 account, some time back, (two or three years,) he, with a few others, 
 made complaints of the same thing to the fiscal, on which account 
 the manager has taken a great dislike to him, and scarcely ever meets 
 him without cursing him as he passes by: the punishment which he 
 inflicts upon him, dreadfully severe; for every little thing he flogs him. 
 I believe Ned to be a quiet harmless man; I think he does his 
 work very well. A manager told me himself, that he had punished 
 many negroes, merely to spite Mr. Wray. I believe the laws of 
 justice, which relate to negroes, are only known by name; for 
 while I am writing this, the driver is flogging the people, and nei¬ 
 ther manager nor overseer near.’ ” [Ibid. p. 9.] 
 
 “‘Sunday, 19th July, 1818.—I felt my spirit move within me 
 at the prayer meeting, by hearing one of the negroes pray most affec¬ 
 tionately that God would overrule the opposition which the planters 
 make to religion, for his own glory; in such an unaffected strain 
 he breathed out his pious complaint, and descended to so many 
 particulars relative to the various arts which are employed to keep 
 them from the house of God, and to punish them for their firmness 
 in religion, that I could not help thinking that the time is not far 
 distant, when the Lord will make it manifest by some signal judg¬ 
 ment, that he hath heard the cry of the oppressed. Ex. iii. 7,8.’ ” 
 
 « ‘March 22d, 1819.—While writing this, my very heart flut¬ 
 ters at hearing the almost incessant cracking of the whip. Having 
 just finished reading Mr. Walker’s Letters on the West Indies, I 
 have thought much of the treatment of the negroes, and likewise 
 the state of their minds. It appears to me very probable, that 
 ere long they will resent the injuries done to them. I should think 
 it my duty to state my opinion respecting this, to some of the rulers 
 of the colony, but am fearful, from the conduct of the fiscal in this 
 late affair, of the negroes being worked on Sunday, that they 
 would be more solicitous to silence me, by requiring me to crimi¬ 
 nate some individual, than to redress the wrongs done to the slaves, 
 by diligently watching the conduct of the planters themselves, and 
 bringing them to justice (without the intervention of mission¬ 
 aries when they detect such abuses of the law as so frequently 
 take place.’ 
 
338 
 
 Review. —Minutes oj Evidence on the 
 
 “ * 17th November 1821.—Yesterday evening we had not more 
 than fifty at the chapel; indeed, I cannot expect many more till 
 the coffee and cotton are gathered in; the people have scarcely any 
 time to eat their food; they have none to cook it—eating, for the 
 most part, raw yellow plantains : this would be bearable for a time, 
 but to work at that rate, and to be perpetually flogged, astonishes 
 me that they submit to it.’ ” [Ibid. p. 10.] 
 
 “‘July 15. 1823.—Mrs. de Florimont and her two daughters 
 called to take leave of us; they are going to Holland. Mrs. de F. 
 says, she is uncertain as to her return to the colony. Hamilton, the 
 manager, came in with them. His conversation immediately turned 
 upon the new regulations which are expected to be in force; he 
 declared, that if he was prevented flogging the women, he would 
 keep them in solitary confinement without food, if they were not 
 punctual with their work; he, however, comforted himself in the 
 belief, that the project of Mr. Canning will never be carried into effect; 
 and in this I certainly agree with him. The rigours of negro sla¬ 
 very, I believe, can never be mitigated; the system must be 
 abolished.’ ” [Ibid. p. 12.] 
 
 Now, bearing always in mind that this journal was the 
 mere private depository of his thoughts and reflections on 
 what he saw, may we not safely ask, whether it were pos¬ 
 sible for any man of common humanity, whose feelings were 
 unbrutalized by a long residence in a land of slavery, to 
 express himself with more moderation upon the cruelties 
 which he daily saw, than does Mr. Smith. Who could see 
 negro drivers flogging negro slaves (the women, perhaps, as 
 is often the case, because they would not submit to their 
 brutal lusts) in the absence both of manager and overseer, 
 without being convinced, from these repeated infractions 
 of the colonial law, that justice to the negroes was here 
 but a name? As to the opinion, that, if the West India 
 planters continue the system of tyranny, which they have 
 long adopted towards their wretched slaves ; if they deny 
 them the opportunities of religious instruction, and have 
 them flogged for attending church or reading the word of 
 God, the period will arrive, when that God will take a fear¬ 
 ful vengeance for the insults offered to his holy name, and 
 the outrages committed on the intelligent creatures of his 
 hand;—as to that opinion, we may also unhesitatingly ask. 
 Is it peculiar to Mr. Smith? So far from its being so, the 
 powerful eloquence of the advocates for the abolition of 
 slavery, as well as of the slave-trade, has again and again 
 thundered the sentiment and the denunciation in the ears 
 of the assembled legislature of the land; and we ourselves 
 are of the number of the thousands and millions of our 
 
339 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 countrymen, who entertain the same opinion as to the re¬ 
 sult of an obstinate perseverance in the present system of 
 West Indian slavery. It astonishes us, as it astonished him, 
 that the negroes will submit to it; and if they are not re¬ 
 strained by the operation of those very precepts which the 
 planters madly take such pains to prevent their imbibing, 
 we doubt not but the period will too speedily arrive, when 
 they will become the avengers of their own accumulated 
 wrongs. We believe, with Mr. Smith, we believe with 
 every real Christian, that the “ rigours of negro slavery can 
 never be mitigated; the system must be abolished.” Yet 
 the thinking thus—for the recording of his thoughts in a 
 journal never submitted to the inspection of a single eye, 
 was no more culpable towards the public, than had he only 
 thought in the recesses of his mind,—is made an evidence 
 of treasonable intentions in Mr. Smith ; whilst we, and all 
 his countrymen at home, may publish in the streets and 
 upon the house-tops,—may circulate through the medium of 
 the press, to the utmost and most distant region of the earth, 
 where the English language is known and read,—this, and 
 a thousand bitterer truths, offensive to the feelings, and 
 therefore, according to this new version of our colonial law, 
 treasonable against the majesty, of the planters of Demerara. 
 
 But if these records of his thoughts are indicative of that 
 right feeling in Mr. Smith, which every man ought to 
 clierish with respect to his fellow-man, and we challenge a 
 contradiction of their being so, we have quoted passages 
 from the journal, as given in evidence against him, which so 
 clearly prove his innocence of all intention to instigate the 
 negroes to revolt, that we are almost tempted to suspect, 
 that Mr. Fiscal and judge-advocate Victor Amadius Heli- 
 ger, must have been either mad or drunk when he selected 
 them as evidences of his guilt. Of this nature is the extract 
 of March 22, 1819, in which Mr. Smith records his wish to 
 have intimated to the rulers of the colony, what he knew of 
 the irritated state of the minds of the negroes near three 
 years and a half before the revolt broke out, arising from 
 that “ almost incessant cracking of the whip,” at which his 
 heart well might flutter, but that he was restrained from 
 doing so from a fear, founded on past experience, that his 
 information would be used in a manner necessarily de¬ 
 structive of his influence as a missionary, in which charac¬ 
 ter he had alike to conciliate the master and the slave; and 
 rendering also equally unserviceable to the government of 
 the colony, any private information which his station might 
 
340 
 
 Review.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 enable him to procure. A better reason could not therefore 
 have been urged, for not having given information of the in¬ 
 tentions of the insurgents, even had he known them, than 
 his own journal furnishes, especially when it is evident, 
 from the whole case, that he exerted all his influence to 
 suppress every feeling of hostility to the established govern¬ 
 ment, in the minds of his negro flock. The first of the ex¬ 
 pression of his feelings upon this subject having been re¬ 
 corded in a privatejournal more than three years before any 
 insurrectionary movement was contemplated, must, in every 
 candid mind, weigh infinitely more in his favour than any 
 thing he could say in his defence ; and thus, as on other parts 
 of the case, as we shall shew immediately,the avidity of his 
 persecutors to procure the conviction of this injured man 
 at any rate, has had the contrary effect of establishing his 
 innocence, by more unquestionable evidence than it was in 
 his power to have adduced. 
 
 One of the charges of the advocate-general in his opening 
 speech, is, that Mr. Smith’s opinion of the oppression under 
 which the negroes laboured, “ brought him to that point, 
 that he thought it necessary to expound them such parts of 
 the holy gospel entirely relative to the oppressed state in 
 which he considered them to be.” We cannot make good 
 English of this Anglo-Dutch lawyer’s foolish accusation, 
 but the completest refutation to it is furnished by himself in 
 the following extract, read by him in evidence, from the 
 journal of the accused :— 
 
 “ ‘The next passage is of Friday, August the 8th, 1817, and 
 runs as follows: 
 
 “‘A great number of people at chapel. From Genesis xv. 1. 
 Having passed over the latter part of chapter 13, as containing a 
 promise of deliverance from [these two words partly erased, but 
 perfectly legible] the land of Canaan, I was apprehensive the ne¬ 
 groes might put such a construction upon it as I would not wish ; 
 for I tell them that some of the promises, &c. which are made to 
 Abraham and others, will apply to the Christian state. It is easier 
 to make a wrong impression upon their minds, than a right one.’ ” 
 [Ibid. p. 9.] 
 
 He is accused also of having so interfered with the acts 
 and deeds of the constituted authorities, as to have excited the 
 negroes to rebellion against them; and the proof of it 
 adduced, and relied upon by the prosecutor, is, that when 
 the governor arbitrarily and unreasonably required the 
 negroes going to the mission chapels, to be furnished with 
 passes from their masters, which those masters might give 
 
341 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 or refuse at pleasure, and which were not required for ne¬ 
 groes going elsewhere upon the sabbath, he was guilty of 
 the treasonable act of thus writing down in his private jour¬ 
 nal his advice to them, to submit, as Christians, even to these 
 harsh and illegal commands of their superiors. 
 
 “ ‘ While at breakfast this morning, I received a communication 
 from the burgher-captain, enclosing a printed circular from the 
 governor, containing on one side an extract from a letter of Lord 
 Liverpool, as secretary of state for the colonies, to governor Ben- 
 tick, dated 15th of October, 1811, and on the other side a com¬ 
 ment written by the colonial secretary, in the name of governor 
 Murray, explaining it to their own taste. The substance of this 
 comment is to persuade the planters not to allow the slaves to at¬ 
 tend the chapel on Sundays without a pass, and in an indirect man¬ 
 ner, not to allow them to come at all in the evening, and even on a 
 Sunday to send an overseer with the slaves, as judges of the doc¬ 
 trine we preach. The circular appears to me designed to throw 
 an impediment in the way of the slaves receiving instruction, under 
 colour of a desire to meet the wishes, or rather, complying with the 
 commands, of his majesty’s government.’ 
 
 “‘June 9th, 1823.—Several whites were present, professedly 
 as spies/ 
 
 “ ‘ 22d June, 1823.—Isaac, of Triumph, came into ask whether 
 the governor’s new law, as he called it, forbad the slaves meeting to¬ 
 gether on the estate to which they belong, of an evening, for the pur¬ 
 pose of learning the catechism. Their manager, he said, had 
 threatened to punish them if they held any meeting. I informed 
 him, that the law gave the manager no such power, and that it had 
 nothing to do with that subject; still I advised them to give it up, 
 rather than give offence and be punished, and to take care to ask for 
 their passes early on Sunday mornings, and come to the chapel to 
 be catechised/ ” [Ibid. p. 11 -] 
 
 And this, in Demarara, is inciting to rebellion, and teaching 
 disobedience to constituted authorities! We say nothing 
 on such law and logic, but that in this generation, and in that 
 island, there are who call light darkness and darkness 
 light. Could any injustice or absurdity surprise us in the 
 proceedings of such men, it would assuredly be the arrant 
 folly of committing a flagrant violation of the very first prin¬ 
 ciples of the law of evidence, to produce, as proofs of the 
 guilty intentions of the accused, those very passages in his 
 journal which his counsel would most have wished to be 
 read as the strongest proofs of his innocency, could they 
 legally have been adduced as evidence in his behalf. Such 
 precisely is the character of the quotations last made, to 
 which we add another passage from the same journal, 
 
342 
 
 Rcvieiv.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 quoted by Mr. Smith in his defence, and which ought, in 
 common fairness and honesty, to have been given in evi¬ 
 dence by the prosecution, by whom indeed, as we have 
 already intimated, the whole and every part of this private 
 document ought to have been read. We give the passage 
 of the prisoner’s address, in which it is referred to entire, 
 because to us it appears an unanswerable proof of his inno- 
 cency of that intention, whose guilt was the principal ob¬ 
 ject for which, in his own strong language, “thatjournal 
 has been dragged forth from the privacy in which it was 
 buried.” 
 
 “It is not, however, necessary to have recourse to subtleties or 
 specious arguments, to disprove that I have interfered in the treat¬ 
 ment of the negroes; there has been no evidence adduced in sup¬ 
 port of this assertion of the prosecutor; nay, my own journal, under 
 date, 21st March, 1819, ought to be sufficient evidence on my 
 behalf: ‘ I wish the negroes would say nothing to me of their 
 troubles, which arise from the severe usage of their managers, &c. 
 as it is not my business to interfere in such concerns, and only 
 obliges me to treat such conduct with apparent indifference, and 
 behave with coolness to those who relate it.’ In corroboration, 
 Bristol, one of the deacons, a constant attendant of the chapel, and 
 continually present at the services, swears ‘ that some people com¬ 
 plained of being licked for not doing the work on a sabbath ; they 
 might have complained to Mr. Smith for something else, but I do 
 not know it. The prisoner does not listen to the complaints of the 
 negroes, only when they come to complain of what I have just 
 spoken. He said, if there was any such thing, (i. e. flogging the 
 negroes for coming to chapel,) he, the negro, must go to the fiscal 
 or governor.’ Some of the planters have referred the quarrels of 
 the negroes to me to be settled.” [Ibid. pp. 58, 59.] 
 
 But before we turn from this written evidence, so illegally 
 produced, yet serving so very different a purpose to that for 
 which the law was so grossly violated in its production, we 
 will, in fairness, quote one passage, which would, we admit, 
 under certain circumstances, have exposed the writer to 
 prosecution and to punishment, even in an English court of 
 justice. We refer to the following remarks upon the gover¬ 
 nor, who had thrown every possible impediment in the way 
 of Mr. Smith’s availing himself of a grant of land by a liberal 
 planter, for the erection of a chapel. 
 
 “ ‘ October 21st, 1822.—Just returned from another fruitless 
 journey; have been for the answer to my petition, but was again 
 told, by the governor’s secretary, that his excellency had not 
 given any order upon it, but that l might expect it to-morrow. I 
 imagine the governor knows not how to refuse with any colour of 
 
343 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 reason, but is determined to give me as much trouble as possible, 
 in the hope that I shall weary of applying, and so let it drop; but 
 his puny opposition shall not succeed in that way, nor in any other 
 ultimately, if I can help it. Oh, that this colony should be governed 
 by a man who sets his face against the moral and religious improve¬ 
 ment of the negro slave! but he himself is a party concerned, and 
 no doubt solicitous to perpetuate the present cruel system, and to 
 that end, probably adopts the common, though not [most] false 
 notion, that the slaves must be kept in brutal ignorance. Were the 
 slaves generally enlightened, they must, and would, be better 
 treated.’ ” [Ibid. p. 10.] 
 
 We have said, that this might have been punishable in 
 our courts, but it would not be as a private paper, indicative 
 of treasonable conduct in the writer, though if it had been 
 published, instead of being locked up in a desk for his own 
 use, it might have been held to be a libel, and not the less so 
 in that it appears to have been true. We much doubt, how¬ 
 ever, whether his excellency would have ventured, in such a 
 case, to appeal to a jury of his country against a man, to 
 whom, on his introduction to him as missionary to the 
 negroes under his government, he communicated, with far 
 more freedom than courtesy, his liberal and enlightened 
 views of ruling them, in the threat, worthy of a barbarian 
 chief, “ If ever I know you teach the slaves to read, I will 
 banish you from the colony.” The man who publicly acts 
 thus, has no very great reason to be astonished, if, on break¬ 
 ing open private depositories of the papers of those to whom 
 his intentions have authoritatively been communicated, the 
 remarks upon his conduct should not be quite so adulatory 
 as he might wish. 
 
 This irrelevant and illegal charge of general misconduct, 
 was also attempted to be supported by the evidence of a 
 carpenter named Bond, who deposed to a desultory conver¬ 
 sation with respect to slavery, in which Mr. Smith took 
 part, a year previous to the time at which the witness was 
 called to speak to it. In the nature of things, therefore, his 
 recollection of it must have been very imperfect; and it 
 proved so entirely vague and uncertain, that lie remembered 
 nothing about the conversation, but that it was generally 
 about slavery. What Mr. Smith said, he knew not, except 
 that negroes would do as well in the West Indies without 
 the whites; (and who doubts that they might readily dis¬ 
 pense with such white people as are most of the flogging 
 planters of Demerara?) that he added something about St. 
 Domingo, but what he had forgotten ; and something more 
 
344 
 
 Redew.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 upon the subject, of which he remembered neither form nor 
 substance, save that Mr. Smith appeared to be confounded. 
 This loose evidence, which no counsel at the English bar 
 would have ventured to offer, and which, if he had offered it, 
 no judge would have received, is then attempted to be patched 
 up by the recollections of Mr. Me Wait, an overseer of a 
 plantation, who seems to be but little more accurate in his 
 memory than his friend Mr. Bond, though he does admit, 
 that the prisoner, in alluding to the bettering of the condi¬ 
 tion of the slaves in the colony, by something similar to 
 what had taken place in St. Domingo, expressly stated, that 
 the influence of the missionaries and of the gospel would 
 prevent such scenes as were acted there. But let the con¬ 
 versation have been what it might, it is evident that there 
 was nothing of an insurrectionary nature in it, as those who 
 heard it took no notice of it for a whole twelvemonth, 
 though evidently ill enough disposed tow'ards the individual 
 against whom a few isolated sentences of a dialogue occu¬ 
 pying a considerable time, were now adduced. But in the 
 first place, they were not evidence at all, because of their 
 irrelevancy, and the distance of time at which they were 
 spoken; secondly, if admissible, they w r ere too loosely 
 recollected to be relied on ; and, thirdly, if accurately re¬ 
 membered, they are no proof of any crime. 
 
 We have also a long examination of a Mr. or Doctor 
 Michael Me lurk,—for he is a gentleman filling so many 
 offices in the colony, tam Mercurio quam Marie, that we 
 know not what to call him—as to an alleged disobedience 
 of an order of His Honor Mr. First Fiscal Heliger, (the 
 judge-advocate general on the present trial,) and the said 
 Mr. or Doctor, in his combined character of medical at¬ 
 tendant to the plantation on which Mr. Smith was a resi¬ 
 dent missionary, a captain of militia, and a burgher-captain, 
 an officer whose duties, in his own language, it is difficult to 
 t e ll» interdicting the attendance of any of the negroes of 
 other estates at the mission-chapel, on account of the small¬ 
 pox having broken out amongst the slaves on the plantation 
 on which it was situated. In as much, however, as this dis- 
 
 ?cnn* enCe ’ ^ an y was comm itf e d, occurred in December, 
 1819, we might well be excused taking notice of it among 
 the proofs given of an excitement of the negroes of the 
 island to rebellion in August 1823, with which it has no 
 more to do than would a questioning of captain Me Turk’s 
 medical skill, or doctor Me Turk’s military tactics, at any 
 period of his active and chequered life. Yet as the 
 
• 345 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 same luckless fatality attaches to this, as to every other 
 part of the evidence adduced by his fellow-sufferer, in 
 the indignity offered to his authority, namely, that it proves 
 every thing but what it was meant to prove, we will 
 waste a word or two upon this most irrelevant and unimpor¬ 
 tant investigation. Mr. Smith’s defence is, that, conscious 
 that this prohibition was a mere pretext for keeping the 
 slaves from chapel, he was anxious to get it removed as 
 soon as possible, and, therefore, wrote to Dr. Me Turk 
 for his certificate of all danger of the infection having- 
 ceased. This was refused, on the ground, that though the 
 negroes, who had all along been kept in a house at the back 
 of the estate, were so completely recovered as to be sent 
 back again,—the house itself, in which they had been sepa¬ 
 rated from the rest, having previously been burnt by Dr. Me 
 Turk himself—he thought the disease might still be latent, 
 from finding that two negroes, who had been infected with 
 it, had not been reported to him. But Mr. Hamilton, the 
 manager of the estate, swears that they were duly reported, 
 and also deposes to the truth of his representations in a 
 letter addressed to Dr. Me Turk himself, on the 19th of 
 Dec. 1819, that there was no attendance by any negroes 
 from the neighbouring estates at the chapel, until the small¬ 
 pox was considered by him, (the doctor,) by the manager, 
 and by every person on the estate, as demolished; and 
 though Dr. Me Turk denies all this, in a letter as full of 
 the self-importance of a man dressed in a little brief autho¬ 
 rity, as we ever recollect to have met with, he must excuse 
 us for giving at the least as much credit to the oath of Mr. 
 Hamilton, as to his; especially as it appears, not only from 
 his own conduct, and the way in which he gave his evi¬ 
 dence, but from express testimony upon the subject, that 
 he and Mr. Smith had long lived upon the most indifferent 
 terms. On a cross-examination by that gentleman, he was 
 asked, whether, in a conversation, of which hehad given every 
 part that could operate against the prisoner, down to his hav¬ 
 ing used all kinds of language to hurt his (thedoctoi s) feel¬ 
 ings, he had ridiculed and sneered at the idea of the negroes 
 being instructed in religion; but that question was most 
 improperly, illegally, and partially rejected by the court: 
 yet no unprejudiced person can for a moment doubt that 
 the construction put upon this prohibition, in an extract 
 from Mr. Smith’s journal, given in evidence by the advocate- 
 general, that it was part of the system of the planters, 
 eagerly to lav hold of any thing to prevent their slaves at- 
 
346 
 
 Review . —Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 tending upon the ordinances of religion, is the correct one. 
 That it was so, is, indeed, self-evident from the conduct of this 
 militarymedical practitioner himself, who, whilst strictly en¬ 
 forcing the prohibition of slaves from other estates, visiting 
 the mission chapel, lest they should catch the infection there, 
 left them at perfect liberty to visit, for any other purpose, the 
 estate on which the slaves attending it were at large, and 
 never prohibited any of the negroes of that estate from going 
 to other plantations whenever they had occasion to do so. 
 Either, therefore, Dr. Me Turk is as ignorant or negligent 
 a practitioner as was ever sent to a West India island to 
 physic slaves, or he lent himself at least to the hostility to 
 missionary exertions in the instruction of slaves, which the 
 great body of planters there avowedly entertain. That such 
 aversion is carried to an extent that would shock not merely 
 every Christian, but every person of common humanity. 
 Dr. Me Turk cannot possibly deny, for he can scarcely fail 
 to have heard of many proofs of it occurring in Demerara, of 
 a nature little less conclusive than is afforded in an anecdote 
 which has reached England, of a certain burgher-captain 
 there, though what was the precise nature of the other 
 offices which he sustained, is not so clearly ascertained. 
 A negro slave was, whilst quite a lad, accused by this mili¬ 
 tary hero of having stolen some trifling article; but he 
 denied the charge, and, on its being persisted in, said with 
 great earnestness, “Indeed, massa, I did not take it, God 
 knows I did not.” At this adjuration, the orthodox Chris¬ 
 tian captain, swearing a most tremendous oath, exclaimed, 
 “ God knows? what the d—1 do you know about God !” “O 
 yes, massa,” said the lad mildly, “ there is a God atop, he 
 know every thing: he know I did not steal it.” The cap¬ 
 tain, turning to one of his negroes, ordered him to spur the 
 young rascal round the room; adding, whilst he did so, “ I’ll 
 
 teach you to talk to me about God, you-, what business 
 
 have you to know any thing about God ?” When his 
 humane commands had been obeyed with sufficient strict¬ 
 ness, he completed his equitable punishment, by taking the 
 soap from the shaving-box which he was using, and mak¬ 
 ing the poor boy eat it before his face. Whether this was 
 one of the instances of West Indian oppression recorded in 
 Mr. Smith’s journal, as making his flesh creep, and his 
 blood boil within him, captain Me Turk, and those who 
 have had the inspection of his journal, alone can tell; but if 
 it is, or if it was known in the island that its writer was 
 cognizant of such fiendish cruelty, as we have every reason 
 
347 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 to believe it was, it is easy to conceive what very impartial 
 witnesses its burgher-captains, slave owners, doctors, and 
 overseers were likely to make upon this trial. 
 
 But from such testimony we pass to that of slaves them¬ 
 selves ; for whilst, in most of our West India islands, their 
 evidence is so completely excluded from our courts, that, as 
 we have shewn in a former number of our work, if a planter, 
 manager, or overseer, were to select an opportunity, when 
 no white person was present, he might, with impunity, whip 
 to death, or otherwise murder, as many blacks as he pleased, 
 their testimony was fully admitted and mainly relied 
 upon in this court-martial, though, from a passage in Mr. 
 Smith’s defence, which was doubtless prepared w 7 ith the 
 assistance of his counsel, we should be inclined to conclude, 
 in the absence of all knowledge upon the subject, that it is 
 not admissible in the ordinary courts of Demerara. Far, 
 very far be it from us, to contend for the rejection of a 
 man’s testimony, because his skin happens to be of a deeper 
 dye than ours ; for, on the contrary, we hold his incapacity 
 by law to give evidence, one of the principal defects in our 
 wretched system of colonial jurisprudence, with regard to the 
 greater part of which we now feel a stronger disposition than 
 ever to say, that justice is but its name. We are, neverthe¬ 
 less, satisfied, that until the slaves are generally instructed 
 in the truths of religion, and the sacred obligations of an 
 oath, the greatest caution is necessary in probing the truth 
 of what they say. Competency to give evidence is, as every 
 lawyer knows, a very different thing from the credibility of 
 the evidence when given; and in their present state of degra¬ 
 dation and ignorance, negroes in the West Indies must be 
 treated as are children here, and not be allowed to swear to 
 facts in court, unless it is evident that they fully under¬ 
 stand the obligation to speak the truth, the whole truth, and 
 nothing but the truth, imposed upon them by the oath they 
 take. With us w r e examine not men and women of full age, 
 or even boys and girls of ten or twelve, upon this point on 
 the voire dire; but in the West Indies it should invariably 
 be done most strictly, and not for form’s sake only, as the 
 presumption there is as strong against the proffered witness 
 knowing what he is about, as it is the other way with us. 
 Admitting also, though this is conceding much, that they 
 act under the known and understood obligation of an 
 oath, their narrow capacities, their limited knowledge, their 
 imperfect acquaintance with our language,—all conspire 
 to point out the necessity of placing less stress on what they 
 vol. vjti.—no. 3. 2 b 
 
348 Review.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 \ 
 
 say, than we should do on similar testimony from a well- 
 educated person, be he black or white. This will obviously 
 be the case too, in a stronger degree, where they undertake 
 to repeat conversations, or give their impressions of what 
 others may have said to them. This latter observation 
 applies with peculiar force to the case before us, and will 
 be very strongly illustrated by the accounts given of Mr. 
 Smith’s conversations and sermons by the slaves produced 
 against him,—the main, and well nigh the only thing they 
 were called to prove. We have thought it right to make 
 these remarks at the outset of our examination of their testi¬ 
 mony, though at present we confine ourselves to that part of 
 it which relates to his general conduct as a missionary 
 among them. They proved, then, that he preached about 
 Saul’s driving David into the bush, because, if he went into 
 the house, he would get trouble; and about the children of 
 Israel in the Red Sea; and the Lord’s making darkness and 
 thunder between the king of Israel and Moses; Pharaoh’s 
 being drowned in the sea, and Moses, when he had got over 
 it, building a temple, and praying to the Lord:—and by 
 doing this he was, forsooth, stirring up rebellion against the 
 king and the constituted authorities, although the same wit¬ 
 nesses positively swear, that he did not draw any compari¬ 
 son between the persecuted Israelites and the slaves of 
 Demerara. The court, however, seemed to think the mere 
 mention of this part of sacred history, in the hearing of 
 a black, so enormous an offence, that they examined particu¬ 
 larly as to the number of occasions on which he had done so. 
 Another crime, of like treasonable enormity, was the teaching 
 the slaves that it was wrong to work on the sabbath-day. 
 Whether it is so by the laws of God, no one acquainted with 
 the Bible, which is part and parcel of the laws of his coun¬ 
 try, can for a moment doubt. Mr. Smith was prepared to 
 shew this upon his trial, by the quotation of many pas¬ 
 sages of scripture; but the moment he announced his in¬ 
 tention of doing so, he was informed by the half-pay lieu¬ 
 tenant-colonel, who acted as president of the court, that this 
 could not be allowed, as every member of the court could, if 
 he pleased, read the scriptures at home; and,—monstrous to 
 relate of any court pretending to be a court of justice, 
 especially a British one!—although witness after witness had 
 been examined, as to his perversions of scripture, as one of 
 the strongest proofs of his traitorous intentions, he was not 
 allowed to quote and comment on any portion of the sacred 
 volume in his defence l Of the following able, manly, and 
 
349 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 Christian answer to the charge, the whole of the passages 
 marked with inverted commas , from the Missionary Society’s 
 copy of the trial, were omitted by the arbitrary and illegal 
 direction of the court, and were afterwards struck out by its 
 express order, by the judge-advocate-general. 
 
 “ That I have taught the negroes that it was sinful to work or 
 traffic on the sabbath. 
 
 “ Every member of the court will, I am sure, allow, that, in doing 
 so, I taught one of the first precepts inculcated in that holy book, 
 on which they have sworn to do justice. To set this subject in the 
 clearest possible light, I will read a few extracts from the sacred 
 scriptures,* relative to the obligation of men, of every condition of 
 life, to abstain from labour on the sabbath, and. to keep it in a reli¬ 
 gious manner : —Exodus, ch. xx- v. 8,11. “ Remember the sabbath 
 
 “ day to keep it holy. Six days shalt thou labour, and do all thy 
 “ work: But the seventh day is the sabbath of the Lord thy God : 
 “ in it thou shalt not do any work, thou, nor thy son, nor thy 
 “ daughter, thy man-servant, nor thy maid-servant, nor thy cattle, 
 “ nor the stranger that is within thy gates: For in six days the 
 “ Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that in them is, 
 “ and rested the seventh day: wherefore the Lord blessed the sab- 
 “ bath-day, and hallowed it."— Jeremiah, ch. xvii. v. 21 and 22. 
 “ Thus saith the Lord, Take heed unto yourselves, and bear no 
 “ burden on the sabbath day, nor bring it in by the gates of Jeru- 
 “ salem: neither carry forth a burden out of your houses on the 
 “ sabbath-day. Neither do ye any work; but hallow ye the sab- 
 “ bath-day, as I commanded your fathers.”— Nehemiah, ch. xiii. 
 “ v. 15, 18. “ In those days saw I in Judah, some treading wine- 
 
 “ presses on the sabbath, and bringing in sheaves, and lading asses; 
 “ as also wine, grapes, and figs, and all manner of burdens, which 
 “ they brought into Jerusalem on the sabbath-day: and I testified 
 “ against them on the day wherein they sold victuals. There dwelt 
 “ men of Tyre also therein, which brought fish, and all manner of 
 “ ware, and sold on the sabbath unto the children of Judah and 
 
 Jerusalem. Then I contended with the nobles of Judah, and 
 “ said unto them, what evil thing is this that ye do, and profane 
 “ the sabbath-day? Did not your fathers thus, and did not our 
 “ God bring all this evil upon us, and upon this city? Yet ye 
 « bring more wrath upon Israel by profaning the sabbath.”— Ezek. 
 “ ch. xx. v. 12 and 13. “ Moreover also, I gave them my sab- 
 
 * While reading this sentence, I was stopped by the president, 
 who said, it was quite unnecessary. Every member of the court 
 could, if he chose, read the scriptures at home., I replied, that I was 
 accused of perverting the scriptures, and that I had no other way of 
 disproving it, than by shewing, from scripture, that the doctrines I 
 taught were plainly inculcated in the bible. The president answered, 
 
 ‘ You have heard the determination, and nothing further can be said 
 on the subject.’ 
 
 i ' 
 
350 
 
 Review.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 “ baths, to be a sign between me and them, that they might know 
 “ that I am the Lord that sanctifieth them. But the house of Israel 
 “ rebelled against me in the wilderness: they walked not in my 
 “ statutes, and they despised my judgments, (which if a man do, 
 “ he shall live in them;) and my sabbaths they greatly polluted: 
 “ then I said, I would pour out my fury upon them in the wilder- 
 “ ness, to consume them.”— Isa. ch. lviii. v. 13,14.—“ If thou turn 
 “ away thy foot from the sabbath, from doing thy pleasure on my 
 “ holy-day: and call the sabbath a delight, the holy of the Lord, 
 “ honourable; and shalt honour him, not doing thine own ways, 
 “ nor finding thine own pleasure, nor speaking thine own words ; 
 “ then shalt thou delight thyself in the Lord; and I will cause thee 
 “ to ride upon the high places of the earth, and feed thee with the 
 “ heritage of Jacob thy father; for the mouth of the Lord hath 
 “ spoken it.”— Luke, ch. xxiii. v. 54 and 56. “ And that day was 
 
 “ the preparation, and the sabbath drew on. And the women also, 
 “ which came with him from Galilee, followed after, and beheld the 
 “ sepulchre, and how his body was laid. And they returned, and 
 “ prepared spices* and ointments; and rested the sabbath-day, 
 “ according to the commandment.” 
 
 “ From many passages, which might be quoted,* it is obvious, 
 that the violation of the sabbath by voluntary labour, which is not 
 absolutely necessary, is regarded by our Maker as a heinous sin ; 
 and, on the contrary, the keeping of it in a religious manner is con¬ 
 sidered a virtue, and accepted as such, through the merits of the 
 Redeemer. In the face of so many precepts, could / tell the 
 negroes there was no harm in working their ground, or in going to 
 market on the sabbath ? was it for me to dispense with the com¬ 
 mandments of God ? Surely not. Voluntary and unnecessary labour 
 on the sabbath, I disallowed. I considered it a sin, and told them 
 so; and if they are properly provided, by their owners, with the 
 necessaries of life, as is asserted by all the planters, they can have 
 no absolute necessity for going to market on the sabbath. One of 
 the witnesses has stated, that he heard me say, ‘ If your master 
 has any work for you to do on a Sunday, it is your duty to tell him 
 that Sunday is God’s day,’ and that I said it ‘ often.’ Even admit¬ 
 ting this to be true,f which I by no means do, I would ask what 
 crime have I committed ? Are their masters greater than God ? 
 The very reverse is the case : Romeo and Bristol abundantly 
 prove, that I taught the negroes to obey their masters, if they were 
 
 * The original was, “ From all these, and many more passages, 
 which might be quoted,” &c.; but upon the court’s ordering all the quo¬ 
 tations to be struck out, this passage was altered to its present state. 
 
 f The laws of the cplony secure to the slaves an exemption from 
 involuntary labour on the sabbath. If a planter makes his slaves 
 work on a Sunday, he is liable to a penalty of 600 guilders for every 
 slave so worked. I never heard of its being enforced, unless the 
 case of Mr. Benny, mentioned to me by the fiscal, is to be considered 
 an instance. 
 
351 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 commanded to work even on a Sunday. Azor has sworn that I told 
 the negroes, that if half a row was left, it was not right to finish 
 it on a Sunday; and, upon cross-examination proved, that 1 did not 
 tell them not to finish the half row, but merely said it was not 
 right: And who is there present that can truly say I was not justi¬ 
 fied in this remark V 7 [Mis. Rep. pp. 72—74.J 
 
 What such a set of judges would have said in answer to 
 this challenge, we neither know nor care; for really the 
 opinion of men who could act upon the arrant absurdity, to 
 say nothing of the gross injustice, of this suppression of a 
 most legitimate line of the prisoner’s defence, is beneath 
 contempt. What Mr. Wray—a fellow of an English col¬ 
 lege—a barrister—the chief-justice of a colony—can think 
 of, or say for himself, in concurring in such a decision, (for, 
 as he did not instantly and indignantly leave the court, as he 
 ought long before to have done, he must be taken to have 
 concurred,) we are utterly at a loss to guess. He at least 
 must have been aware, if his colleagues could be ignorant 
 of it, which we doubt, that a judge is presumed to be 
 acquainted with every act of parliament in the statute book ; 
 and yet would not every one condemn as the arrantest fool 
 that ever walked the earth without a keeper, that one of their 
 venerable body, who should forbid the quoting and com¬ 
 menting upon any particular act, on account of this presump¬ 
 tion, and that he might, if he chose, refresh his memory by 
 looking at it at home. Yet such was the ridiculous and tyran¬ 
 nical conduct of the court-martial at Demerara before which 
 Mr. Smith was tried, though the chief-justice of the island 
 was a member of it. But that which is the law of the bible, 
 is also the law of England, where every one knows that the 
 profanation of the sabbath by secular employments is a 
 statutable offence, notoften punished, it is true,though that is 
 not the fault of the law, but of those who ought to execute it. 
 It is the law, moreover, of the colony, and where its provisions 
 subject a planter, compelling his slaves to work against 
 their will on the sabbath, to a fine of six hundred guilders 
 for every slave whom he so works, surely that man is a 
 meritorious supporter, instead of an incendiary breaker of 
 the law, who teaches the slaves, that, as the colonial legisla¬ 
 ture had itself taken care to protect them against being 
 compelled to violate the sabbath, by punishing the master 
 who should be guilty of such compulsion, it would be an 
 offence in them, for which God will call them to account, 
 voluntarily to deprive themselves of the benefit of this 
 protection. 
 
352 Review.— Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 But the different manner in which the witnesses repeat 
 these instructions, proves at once the spirit in which they 
 were given, and the impossibility of placing any reliance 
 upon the correctness of a negro’s recollection of conversa¬ 
 tions. One and the same witness, Azor, (upon whose testi¬ 
 mony the prosecutor mainly rests this part of his charge,) 
 gives the expression as “ it was hard to work,” “it was not 
 lit to be worked,” and “ it was not right to work,” but no 
 where proves any tiling like a direction to them not to work, 
 though, if he did, we have already shewn that Mr. Smith 
 was but furthering the intentions of those very colonial laws 
 which he is accused of seeking to overturn. True it is, that 
 he represents him as saying, “ they were fools for work¬ 
 ing on Sunday for the sake of a few lashes.” That this 
 expression could never have been used, must, however, we 
 think, be apparent, from the following brief considerations. 
 In the first place, the language is not such as was likely to 
 have been used by a person in Mr. Smith’s situation when 
 conversing with a slave. In the second place, the very 
 slave who represents it as having been used to him, negatives 
 the possibility of its having been so, as he expressly swears that 
 the prisoner always advised the negroes, from the pulpit and 
 otherwise, to do their work, and obey their masters, and all 
 in authority under them. Thirdly, the advice, not to mind 
 a few lashes, and the manner in which they are spoken of, 
 is utterly at variance with the very strong expressions 
 which he constantly uses in his journal, to denote his 
 abhorrence of this cruel and degrading punishment. Those 
 extracts were selected by the prosecutor, to shew that 
 Mr. Smith was exciting dissatisfaction in the minds of 
 the slaves, by speaking in terms of strong and unmea¬ 
 sured reprehension of the discipline of flogging, to which 
 they were subjected ; yet this witness charges him with 
 speaking of that same punishment as a thing so light as to 
 be scarcely worthy of a moment’s consideration. Both 
 these accusations cannot be true, and we have no doubt 
 as to which every candid reader w'ill credit. We may 
 remark also, in the fourth and last place, and as applicable 
 also to the charge of forbidding the negroes to work on a 
 sabbath in general, that had the prisoner been disposed to 
 excite opposition to the masters on this account, a far more 
 effectual way was open to him than any he is alleged to 
 have pursued, in inducing them to make a formal complaint 
 of an offence which the fiscal seems disposed to have prose¬ 
 cuted. A man wishing to annoy tne planters, would have 
 
35$ 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 taken a course not only destructive of their authority by 
 proving it tobe illegal, but annoying them to a further degree 
 by aiming at their pockets. This would have been at once 
 a more treasonable, and a more reasonable attack upon their 
 dignity, than advising their slaves quietly to be flogged, for 
 what their masters were punishable for doing; and as he 
 could have done this with impunity, we may safely conclude, 
 that he might have used the expressions sworn to by Azor, 
 though we do not believe them, without subjecting himself 
 by law to any punishment, not even an hour’s imprisonment, 
 or a fine of a single farthing. 
 
 But the whole evidence of the other negroes called by the 
 judge-advocate, and examined by him aud his assistants, 
 by the aid of every leading, and, therefore, illegal question, 
 that could be put, in order to procure a confirmation of this 
 evidence of Azor’s, most completely proves, that all Mr. 
 Smith said or did on the subject of the slaves working upon 
 Sunday, was, in substance, that it was wrong in their mas¬ 
 ters to compel them to do so, but that it was a sin for which 
 they must answer, not the negroes, who must do as they 
 told them; but would be answerable hereafter, and excluded 
 from the sacrament here, if they did any work for them¬ 
 selves, or for their benefit, of their own accord, works of 
 necessity alone excepted. This is evident from the follow¬ 
 ing testimony of Romeo, Manuel, and Bristol. 
 
 Romeo. 
 
 “ He said, if the water-dams break, to be sure you must attend 
 to your master’s duty; or fire; if they force you to do it, you must 
 do it, and your master will answer for it: you must not grieve, or be 
 angry, if your master forces you, but you must do it. 
 
 “ What kind of work did the prisoner say you were to do on a 
 Sunday, if your master forced you ?—Any work: but if he does not 
 give you work, you must attend to church regularly. 
 
 “ You have stated that you were present when Mr. Smith re¬ 
 proached some of the members for absenting themselves from cha¬ 
 pel on a Sunday. Did you upon that occasion hear Mr. Smith say 
 that they were fools for working on a Sunday for the sake of a few 
 lashes?—No, I did not hear that; but I heard him say, that if their 
 masters gave them work, they must do it patiently, and if they 
 punish you for a wrong cause, you must not grieve for it.” [House 
 of Com. Rep. p. 15, 16.] 
 
 Manuel. 
 
 “ The parson said, if your master has any work for you on Sun¬ 
 day, it is your duty to tell him Sunday is God’s day; that if the 
 water-dam broke, on Sunday, it was our duty to go and stop it; 
 that if the boat was to ground on the sand bank on a Sunday, it 
 
364 
 
 Review.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 it was our duty to shove it off; and that if people got drunk on 
 Sunday, it was right of their masters to make them work, to pre¬ 
 vent them walking about, and doing mischief. 
 
 “ Did the prisoner say nothing else about working on a Sunday 
 than what you have already stated?—I cannot remember any thing 
 else. I now recollect the parson said, if any member of the 
 church has work given to him by his master, he, the parson, won't 
 say any thing; but if any member of the church did any work of 
 his own accord on a Sunday, he should not be allowed to sit among 
 them as a member for one month. 
 
 “ Did not many of the members go to work their grounds on 
 a Sunday, and also go to market?—Yes, a number of them did so. 
 
 “ Were those that did so excluded from the chapel?—No, they 
 were not. 
 
 ‘‘Were they suspended from the communion?—They were not 
 allowed to take it the same day, but they might the next. 
 
 “ Who was present when the parson said, that if your master 
 had any work for you to do on Sunday, to tell him that Sunday is 
 God’s day?—Joseph was there. Jack of Dochfour, Bristol and 
 them; also Bill, and many others. 
 
 “(Question by the Court .)—Was it once only, or often, you 
 heard the parson say, that if your master gave you work on a Sun¬ 
 day, you were to tell him it is God’s day?—He told us this often.” 
 [House of Com. Rep. pp. 18, 19.] 
 
 Bristol. 
 
 “I have heard the prisoner speak about working on a Sunday. 
 He said, that if our master gave us work on a Sunday, we must do 
 it, because we could not help it; and that we must not break the 
 sabbath in doing our own work, because we must keep holy the 
 sabbath day, which is a command of God. Mr Smith said that 
 God would punish us for working our own ground on a Sunday.” 
 [House of Com. Rep. pp. 21, 22.] 
 
 In the latter examination, the emphatic words “ that is 
 all, are inserted after “ a command of God,” in the report 
 of the trial published by the Missionary Society, from the 
 minutes of Mr. Arrindell, the counsel for Mr. Smith, to 
 which we may hereafter have occasion to refer, for supply¬ 
 ing several most important and disgraceful omissions in the 
 official minutes. When called by the prisoner as his wit¬ 
 ness, this negro gave the following evidence upon the same 
 subject. 
 
 “ Did you, at any time, hear the prisoner sav, “ if your master 
 has any work for you to do on a Sunday, it"is your duty to tell 
 um Sunday is Gods day?—He did not tell us so; he told us if 
 oui master gave us any thing to do on a Sunday, we must do it; 
 he never told us not to do it.” [House of Com. ilep. p. 99.] 
 
355 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 To the same effect, also, is the evidence of Jason, a free 
 negro, called by the prisoner. 
 
 “ What were the doctrines and duties which the prisoner taught 
 the people that used to go to the chapel?—The catechism for one. 
 When we came to the chapel, the parson told us we were to believe 
 in God, and that we were to obey our masters in all things; that we 
 were not to steal, nor to lie, as it was a great evil; that whatever 
 our mastei's commanded us to do, we were to do it without speaking 
 again.” [House of Com. Rep. pp. 103, 104.] 
 
 “ (Question by the Prosecutor.) —Can you recollect the time 
 when the prisoner told you what you have stated about obeying 
 your master?—He told me that at all times, aud frequently.’' [Ib. 
 p. 105.] 
 
 We should not have thought it necessary to have made 
 these extracts or comments, had our object merely been to 
 shew Mr. Smith’s innocence of any crime cognizable by the 
 law; but as we are satisfied that the martyred missionary 
 was most exemplary in the discharge of his duty, as a minis¬ 
 ter of the gospel to the heathen, we have adduced this evi¬ 
 dence from the people of his flock, when called for the most 
 part as witnesses against him,—that it was obedience, not 
 anarchy—forbearance, not revenge—a patient endurance 
 of injury, not violent measures to redress it, which he 
 uniformly taught in his ministrations amongst these the 
 most degraded, suffering, and injured of the creatures of 
 the same common race. Into the course of these ministra¬ 
 tions a large portion of the time of the court was occupied, 
 by inquiries so minute in their nature, and so extensive in 
 the period which they covered, that we know not whether 
 surprise at their absurdity, or indignation at their irrele¬ 
 vancy, preponderates in our minds. At all events, we 
 should assuredly have passed them by with the contempt 
 they merit, did they not, like all the other gross irregulari¬ 
 ties of this most irregular and illegal trial, issue in the com¬ 
 plete exculpation of the persecuted missionary, whose guilt 
 they were meant to prove. 
 
 One of the advocate-general’s most extraordinary charges 
 against Mr. Smith, of selecting passages from scripture, 
 applicable to the distressed state of his negro auditors, 
 has already been partially examined. His answer to this 
 charge is contained in the following plain unvarnished state¬ 
 ment of his defence : 
 
 “ With this view of the subject I commenced, about the middle of 
 1820, a regular course of historical reading and expositions, taking 
 the Old Testament for the morning service, and the New Testament 
 
ft 
 
 356 Review.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 for the evening. I began in the Old Testament with Genesis, and 
 in the New Testament with the gospel of St. Matthew. The Old 
 Testament I read in order, with the omission of such chapters as 
 appeared to me liable to be misinterpreted by the negroes. The 
 passage which has been read from the journal, under date * 8th 
 August, 1817/ says, that I omitted to read or to expound to the 
 negroes a passage of scripture (latter part of Genesis xiii.) which I 
 apprehended they might misconstrue. It contains a promise of the 
 land of Canaan to Abraham’s posterity. The journal adds the rea¬ 
 son why I omitted the passage; viz. that I was fearful it might 
 make a wrong impression on their minds, as I tell them some of the 
 promises, &c. which were made to Abraham, &c. will apply to the 
 Christian state. This proves that I was very cautious not to apply 
 to the negroes those parts of scripture which relate to temporal 
 possessions, and were peculiar to the patriarchs. That some of the 
 promises and precepts made to them apply to the Christian state, is 
 evident from the New Testament: compare Romans c. iv. ver. 23, 
 to the end. The apostle, speaking of Abraham’s faith being im¬ 
 puted to him for righteousness, says, ‘ Now it was not written for his 
 sake alone, that it was imputed to him, but for us also/ &c. 
 
 “ Great stress has been laid on my reading of the deliverance of 
 the Israelites from Egypt. Had that part of holy writ been omit¬ 
 ted, the history of the church of God could not have been under¬ 
 stood. The mercy, the power, and the providence of God are sig¬ 
 nally displayed in that part of sacred history, and cannot fail to im¬ 
 press with a sense of religious fear and trust even the stupid mind 
 of a negro. For this reason, I suppose, the apostle Paul, in 1st 
 Cor. c. x. ver. 1 to 11. presses upon our particular attention this very 
 portion of the scriptures: ‘ Now all these things happened unto 
 them for ensamples; and they are written for our admonition, upon 
 whom the ends of the world are come.’ In reading the portions of 
 scripture partially related by the witnesses, care was always taken 
 to guard against perversion or misapplication ; such reflections only 
 being made at the end of the chapter, as were of a moral and reli¬ 
 gious nature. Even those witnesses for the prosecution, whose 
 memories were so very tenacious on the subject of Moses and Pha¬ 
 raoh, and the children of Israel, though it is two years since I have 
 read to them about these persons, have stated that they never heard 
 me apply the history of the Israelites to the condition of the negroes. 
 If they themselves read the bible, and so applied it, the fault must 
 be charged upon their ignorance, and shews the necessity of their 
 having more instruction. It is to the ignorance of men that the 
 apostle Peter imputes the perversion of the scriptures. In his 
 second Epistle, c. iii. v. 16. where speaking of Paul’s epistles, he 
 says, «In which are some things hard to be understood, which they 
 that are unlearned and unstable wrest, as they do also the other 
 scriptures, to their own destruction.’ ” [House of Com. Rep. p. 
 55, 56.] r r 
 
357 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 And rests this upon his statement merely ? By no means; it is 
 abundantly confirmed by the testimony of every one of his 
 auditors, called, or by the prosecutor, or himself, as the 
 following extracts will evince: 
 
 Azor. 
 
 “ When the prisoner talked or explained to you about the chil- 
 dred of Israel, did he say that the situation of the negroes was like 
 that of the children of Israel, or words to that effect ?—No.” [House 
 of Com. Rep. p. 14.] 
 
 Romeo. 
 
 “ Divine service is performed at the chapel twice on a Sunday, 
 at seven and eleven o’clock: the service at seven o’clock is, he reads 
 in the Old Testament, and then he prays, then he begins to teach : 
 he begins from Genesis, till he goes through : he used to read the 
 2d Kings. The last time I heard him was 2d Kings, but I cannot 
 recollect the chapter.” [Ib. p. 15.] 
 
 Manuel. 
 
 “The prisoner reads a chapter concerning Moses sometimes. 
 When Moses was born in Egypt, in that place where Pharaoh was a 
 king, when he was born, the king gave orders that if any boy-child 
 was born, they should put him to death : if it was a girl-child, let 
 her live. After that Moses was about three weeks old, they took 
 him and put him in a small box, and they put him in a river where 
 the king’s daughter was washing. God commanded Moses to take 
 the children of Israel into the land of Canaan, because he did not 
 ■wish they should be made slaves. God gave Moses a painted rod 
 to make the king afraid. God commanded Moses that the king’s 
 heart was hardened; and Moses said to the king, What is the reason 
 that you cannot take God’s advice? AKer that, the king gave up 
 Moses, and let them go in the promised land. After that, the king 
 wanted to follow them again and bring them back, and then the 
 king was drowned in there, in the sea. He read something after 
 the death of Moses; he read Joshua; I cannot recollect what 
 chapter. He read about David. He read about God calling 
 Samuel to make him rule the people; after that, they wanted 
 Samuel to put a king to rule them; and Samuel told them to believe 
 in the Lord, that He was the king. God sent and put words in 
 Samuel’s mouth, and said, Look at Saul, the son of Kish, put him 
 to be ruler over the people of Israel. David ran away from Saul, 
 and went into the country where Goliath was born ; and by David’s 
 discourse they discovered that he was the man who killed Goliath ; 
 and when they asked David if he was not the man, he feigned to be 
 mad, and ran away. David ran to the bush, and got into the wood, 
 because he was afraid that he would put another man into trouble. 
 I don’t know how he was to put another man into trouble, he only 
 told me that.” [Ib. p. 17.] 
 
 “ ( Questions by the Court .)—You have said that the prisoner, at 
 
358 
 
 Review.—Minutes qf Evidence on the 
 
 morning service, read about Moses, Joshua, and David: did he 
 read of any one else ?—Yes: I cannot remember the names of any 
 other: he read about Elisha. 
 
 “ Do you mean to say, that he read only the Old Testament at 
 the morning prayer?—Formerly he used to read the New Testa¬ 
 ment; but for two years past he has only read the Old Tes¬ 
 tament. 
 
 “ Did he read it straight through, or did he pass over any part of 
 it?—He read it regularly through.” [Ib. p. 19.] 
 
 Bristol. 
 
 “ I have heard some of the boys who read the Bible, speak about 
 the Israelites and the Jews, about the fighting of the Israelites when 
 they go to war; when the prisoner read about the fighting of the 
 Israelites, after they went home and read it again, I heard them 
 speak about it: they said the people of Israel used to go warring 
 against the enemies; then I explained the meaning of ‘ the enemy,’ 
 and told them it was the people who would not believe the word of 
 God when Moses used to preach to them; the people applied the 
 story of the Israelites and the Jews, and put it on themselves; 
 when they read it, then they begin to discourse about it; they said 
 that this thing in the bible applied to us just as well as to the people 
 of Israel; I cannot tell what made the negroes apply it to them¬ 
 selves.” [Ib. p. 23.] 
 
 From this latter evidence, as reported in the minutes 
 printed by the House of Commons, the natural inference is, 
 that the witness had no idea why this application was 
 made, clearly negativing, therefore, every presumption of its 
 arising from any parallel drawn by the prisoner in his dis¬ 
 courses ; but the question and answer, as actually given and 
 reported in the other copy of the minutes, is still more con¬ 
 clusive in his favour, and the suppression of it in the official 
 notes of the trial, is, therefore, doubly disgraceful in those 
 who were guilty of it. 
 
 “ What made the people say, in reading the bible, that the 
 
 history of the Jews applied to themselves?—I can’t tell- Because 
 
 they read it, and their own hearts make them say so; and their 
 ignorance, that made them not understand it .” [Missionary Society’s 
 Rep. p. 26.] 
 
 We resume, however, his examination, and that of other 
 negroes, further confirmatory of Mr. Smith’s defence. 
 
 “ Do you know any thing about Peter, or the first epistle general 
 of Peter?—I have heard it read, but I don’t remember it. 
 
 “ How long ago is it since you heard the general epistle of Peter 
 read ?—I cannot remember rightly. 
 
 “ How long is it since Mr. Smith read to you about Moses and 
 the children of Israel, and about Pharaoh and his soldiers ?—About 
 two or three mouths before the rising took place, or longer. 
 
359 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 “ Did Mr. Smith, when he was reading the bible, begin the next 
 time at the place he last left off at ?—Yes; he explains what he read 
 the Sunday before, and then goes on to the next chapter. 
 
 “ How do you know that he began at the very next chapter to the 
 one he last read ?—Because he named the chapter he read the last 
 Sunday, and then named the one he was going to read. 
 
 “ You have said you cannot read; are you sure Mr. Smith never 
 missed any chapters?—Sometimes when he is going to read he 
 tells us he passes over a chapter.” [House of Commons’ Report, 
 p. 25.] 
 
 “ Have you ever heard the prisoner apply the history of the Jews 
 or Israelites to the negroes?—No. 
 
 “ Can you give no reason at all why the people, when they read 
 about the history of the Jews or Israelites applied it to themselves? 
 —No.” [Ib. p. 26.] 
 
 Mary Chisholm. 
 
 “ Did you hear the prisoner read about Moses delivering the 
 children of Israel from Egypt?—I have heard Mr. Smith read it 
 some time back, not long ago, but I cannot remember the time. 
 
 “ Can you form any idea how long ago it is since you heard him 
 read about Moses delivering the children of Israel from Pharaoh 
 and Egypt?—No, I cannot rightly say. 
 
 “ Is it a month, or two months, or a year, or longer or shorter 
 than a year?—I cannot rightly say how long it is. 
 
 “ What did you last hear the prisoner read about?—To my best 
 knowledge, I think he read Luke, the Sunday before the rebellion. 
 
 “ Did you hear the prisoner read the history of David?—Yes. 
 
 “ Do you remember what he read about David?—He read about 
 when Saul pursued after David. One night Saul dropped asleep, 
 and David came over to him with his men, and they took away 
 his spear, and his water-cruse; and when Saul rose up, David 
 hallooed to the men of Saul to come for the spear. Another time, 
 David cut the skirt of Saul’s coat; then the men of David said 
 they must slay Saul, and David said, God forbid that they should 
 put their hands upon the Lord’s anointed. 
 
 “ Were there any comments, remarks, or reflections made by 
 the prisoner on what he read; if yea, what were they?—Yes; he 
 remarked what a' good man David was, not to revenge upon Saul; 
 when he had it in his power to take his life, he would not do it. 
 On one of the members observing to the prisoner, why David did 
 not slay him, the prisoner replied, ‘ it was better to leave him to 
 God’s mercy, to do with him as he pleased.’ 
 
 “ How long is it ago since the prisoner read about David and 
 Saul ?—Not very long; I cannot say, exactly. 
 
 “ Did you ever hear the prisoner read about any thing else, if 
 yea, what?—Yes; I remember a man had a piece of land, and 
 the king wanted it; he wanted to exchange the land, or buy it 
 for money; the man would not sell it; and the king’s wife bor- 
 
360 
 
 Review.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 rowed the king’s seal, and sent to his officers, saying, put a guard 
 over such a man; and to say that the man had blasphemed God 
 and cursed the king: and then he was stoned to death for so doing. 
 And his wife said, rise and take possession of the land, for the man 
 who would not sell it was dead; and when the prophet met with 
 the king going to take possession of the land, he inquired of him, 
 ‘ have you killed, and are you now going to take possession ?’ and 
 the king said unto the prophet , 1 my enemy, have you found me out ?’ 
 
 “ How did the prisoner apply this story ?—He read it, and then 
 we asked for remarks upon it. Mr. Smith said, if we did any 
 thing bad, God would always find us out; and that God sent 
 this prophet to tell the king that he would punish him for taking 
 away the man’s land; and that if we did any thing bad, if we did 
 not suffer for it ourselves, our children, or our grand-children, would 
 suffer.” [Ib. p. 105, 106.] 
 
 London. 
 
 “ Have you a Bible; and if yea, do you use it in chapel ?—I 
 have, and use it in chapel. 
 
 “ Can you follow the parson as he reads the Bible from the pul¬ 
 pit; if yea, were you in the habit of doing so?—Yes, lean, and am 
 in the habit of doing so. 
 
 “ Do you remember the prisoner reading about Moses delivering 
 the children of Israel from Pharaoh, at the morning service?—I 
 heard him, but very long ago, about two years. 
 
 What books of the Bible did he read last year, at the morning 
 service ?—He began with Leviticus, until Numbers, and then Deu¬ 
 teronomy. 
 
 “ What books did he read this year?—He read Kings, Samuel, 
 Judges; he had not finished Kings. 
 
 “ Does Mr. Smith at the morning service read straight on, or 
 does he ever turn back to read chapters over again which he had 
 read before ?—He reads it straight forward; he does not come 
 back; he goes on before.” [Ib. p. 113.] 
 
 “ ( Questions hxj the Prosecutor.) —Did not the prisoner read 
 Exodus to you a few Sundays before the revolt ?—No. 
 
 “ Did he read Joshua to you ?—-Yes, a little, long before the 
 revolt began, at the morning service. 
 
 “ What did you hear read in Joshua?—When Moses was dead, 
 Joshua took his place, and God Almighty put him over these people. 
 
 “ Look at the eighth chapter, and state if he read that?—I did 
 not hear him read the eighth chapter of Joshua. 
 
 “ Now look at the seventh chapter, and state if he read that?— 
 No, I did not hear him. 
 
 “ Have you never read the eighth chapter of Joshua before to¬ 
 day ? No, I did not, but I may have seen it, looking through the 
 book.” [Ib. p. 113, 114.] 
 
 Bill. 
 
 V In what order did Mr. Smith read the Bible at the Sunday 
 
361 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 morning services?—He reads a chapter, and then stops: next 
 Sunday, he reads another chapter: sometimes, the succeeding 
 chapter, and sometimes from another place. 
 
 “ Did he keep going forward, or did he go backward?—For¬ 
 wards.” [Ib. p. 115.] 
 
 \\ itli respect to this last evidence, the Missionary Socie¬ 
 ty’s report contains a minute as to the form in which the 
 question respecting the order of reading should be put, which 
 it the ignorance it displays, on the part of the president of 
 the court, was real, proves that he had not sufficient skill— 
 if it was affected, that he was grossly deficient in impartiality 
 for the office which he filled. Whichever alternative is 
 adopted, his conduct amalgamated, how'ever, so entirely with 
 that of his colleagues, that it is not worth while singling 
 him out from a set of judges, to the like of whom we hope 
 the life and liberty of no man will hereafter be entrusted, 
 at least, till they are better instructed in their judicial 
 duties, as they ought most assuredly to have been, by the 
 judge in name and title, who so singularly, and worse than 
 uselessly, took his seat upon their bench. We return, how¬ 
 ever,to the evidence, and boldly challenge any one to disprove 
 from it that Mr. Smith’s mode of reading the scriptures, 
 and of preaching from them, so far from being calculated to 
 lead the negroes to misapply any portion of the word of 
 God to their own degraded condition, w as not studiously and 
 scrupulously adapted to prevent the possibility of such a 
 mistake. The seventh and eighth chapters of Joshua seem 
 to have been peculiarly unpalatable to the legal authorities 
 and planters of Demerara; why, we know not, as they merely 
 relate the discomfiture of the Israelites before Ai, on 
 account of the sin of Achan, and the subsequent capture 
 and destruction of that city, and the slaughter of its inha¬ 
 bitants, for causes, and in the progress of a war, which 
 had no more to do with slaves, or slavery, than has the 
 birth of Adam, the death of Abel, the anointing of David, 
 or any other portion of the Old Testament, the whole of 
 which, it appears, is of too dangerous a tendency for the 
 latitude and longitude of Demerara. This, however, w r e have 
 been enabled to discover, by the aid of an almanack and a 
 prayer-book,—that of the half of the twenty-four chapters of 
 the book of Joshua, which the church of England has di¬ 
 rected to be used in the regular course of her daily lessons, 
 the seventh and the eighth are two; the former being ap¬ 
 pointed for the first lesson at evening service on the 13th, 
 and the latter as the first lesson at morning prayer on the 
 
362 Review.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 fourteenth of March; whilst, moreover, it does so happen, 
 that in the very year of our Lord in which we live, the said 
 fourteenth day of March happened on a Sunday, and there¬ 
 fore this most mischievous and treasonable chapter must 
 then have been read in the hearing of all the slaves of 
 Demerara, who were sufficiently orthodox to attend divine 
 worship in the episcopal church of St. George, unless, in¬ 
 deed, the planters of that colony are so supreme in causes and 
 matters ecclesiastical, as well as civil, as to have dispensed 
 with it. If, then, Mr. Smith was guilty of treason or any 
 minor offence against the peace or dignity of the white inha¬ 
 bitants of Demarara, by reading this obnoxious chapter in 
 its regular course, that very offence must have been more 
 recently committed by the officiating minister of the esta¬ 
 blishment there, under the sanction, and by the express 
 direction, of the rubric of that church which is part and 
 parcel of the state. 
 
 Mr. Smith was accused in the written charges preferred 
 against him, of promoting, as far as in him lay, “ discontent 
 and dissatisfaction, in the minds of the negro slaves, to¬ 
 wards their lawful masters, managers, and overseers,” and 
 it was to prove this charge, that the extensive range of his 
 whole ministerial conduct, to which we have already re¬ 
 verted, was illegally inquired into by the prosecutor. The 
 result of this examination, as far as the alleged charge of 
 teaching the slaves to disobey the commands of their mas¬ 
 ters by not working upon the sabbath-day is concerned, has 
 already been stated, and the further examination of the ac¬ 
 count given by the negroes, selected by those who had every 
 opportunity and every disposition to make the most favour¬ 
 able selection for their purpose, of the general conduct of 
 their pastor, will still deepen the conviction of his entire 
 innocence of every intention of the kind so falsely imputed 
 to him, which we strangely deceive ourselves if the state¬ 
 ment of the evidence on that point must not have made on 
 every unprejudiced mind. The following witnesses incon¬ 
 testably prove, that so far from unduly interfering between 
 the master and the slaves, he always taught from the pulpit, 
 and in his private conversations with them, that it was their 
 duty to yield implicit obedience to their commands. 
 
 Bristol. 
 
 “ I never heard the prisoner say any thing about the treatment 
 of slaves : sometimes, when the people come to complain, or when 
 they are hindered from coming to the chapel, and some of them get 
 licked, then he tells them, ‘ Well, I cannot help that; but it is not 
 
Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 363 
 
 right for your masters to lick you, and hinder you from coming to 
 chapel onlywhen the people come with such complaints as I 
 have just now spoken of, the prisoner listens to them. The pri¬ 
 soner has advised me and others what to do, when we had such 
 complaints, to go to the fiscal or the governor: sometimes the 
 people run away or so, and he says, ‘ when you run away, you must 
 not let them catch you again, for they will punish you.” [House of 
 Com. Rep. p. 21.] 
 
 The latter part of this evidence was not given, it should 
 be remarked, until the prisoner had finished his answer to 
 the question proposed to him by the judge-advocate, “ Did 
 he never advise you or others what to do in case you had any 
 complaint ?”(a leading question, enough, in all conscience; 
 but having failed to get out what the prosecutor wanted, 
 it was followed by a refresher of his memory of “ any thing 
 else;” to which the answer given in the Society’s report, 
 containing the questions most improperly omitted in the 
 official copy of the proceedings, is, “ That if the people run 
 away, they must not let them catch them again.” This ex¬ 
 pression Mf. Smith afterwards asked the witness to explain; 
 but the court, with its wonted contempt, or ignorance, of all 
 rules of evidenc, and every principle of justice, would not 
 permit it to be done. But that it either could have been 
 satisfactorily explained, or was not used at all, is manifest, 
 not only from the evidence which will hereafter be adduced 
 of Mr. Smith having excluded negroes from the communion 
 for this very offence, but from the whole tenor of this man’s 
 testimony, from which we proceed to make some farther 
 extracts. 
 
 li I remember when the governor’s proclamation respecting the 
 negroes going to church, was read to the head people on the estates 
 by the burgher-captain of the district, I heard the prisoner speak 
 about that proclamation: he said there was an order for all the 
 people to come to church, and nobody was to hinder them. The 
 owners were to give every one of them a pass to come to chapel, 
 and the overseer with them, and when they had done at the chapel, 
 the overseer was to go back with them, and take them home, so far 
 1 heard. Mr. Smith said, this was a good law. Mr. Smith said, in 
 this country we cannot attend chapel as we wish, as they could in 
 a free country, and in this we are slaves, and that we must pray to 
 God to help us, that we may be enabled to attend as far as we 
 can.” [Ib.p. 21.] 
 
 The former part of this statement is of considerable im¬ 
 portance, inasmuch as it shews, that even while he had good 
 reason to suppose that the masters were resorting to every 
 
 VOL. viii. — no. 3. 2 c 
 
364 
 
 Review.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 possible pretext and expedient, to keep their slaves from 
 chapel, he was so far from communicating to those slaves 
 the unfavourable impression of their conduct, which the 
 extracts from his private journal, given in evidence against 
 him, prove him to have entertained, that he puts the best 
 possible construction upon it, and does all in his power to 
 induce a ready submission to a restriction, which, as a man, 
 an Englishman, and a minister, he unequivocally con¬ 
 demned. Yet this is a preacher of sedition, and a man per¬ 
 petually going out of his way to create dissatisfaction in the 
 minds of the slaves against their masters! The latter intima¬ 
 tion, that they were slaves, and therefore could not do as 
 could freemen, in attending on the means of grace, seems 
 to have given great offence to the great men of Demerara; 
 yet surely it was but a work of supererogation, in telling 
 them what they must full well have known, a truth, indeed, 
 exhibited every day before their eyes, in the contrast, which 
 existed in this respect, between themselves and their black 
 brethren who had obtained their freedom, to say not a 
 syllable of the whites. Accompanied also as it was by a 
 strong recommendation to pray to God to enable them to 
 do their duty in the station in which they were placed, we 
 care little whether the expression was used, or whether it 
 was inaccurately reported, as other evidence, and even other 
 parts of Bristol’s own testimony, leaves abundant reason to 
 conclude that it must have been. And that this was the habi¬ 
 tual lesson of his ministrations amongst the degraded and 
 half-instructed objects of his labours of benevolence, cannot 
 be more strongly evinced than by the following evidence of 
 this same witness, upon whose testimony it is clear that the 
 prosecutor mainly relied for the conviction of the accused. 
 
 “ At our prayer-meetings we prayed to God to help us and 
 to bless us all, that we may be enabled to seek after him more and 
 more, and that he would bless our masters, and the governor and 
 the fiscal; that we might make good servants unto them, and they 
 might be good masters unto us; and to give us health and strength 
 to do that which it might be our duty to do, and to bless all our 
 brothers and sisters; we pray about our master’s hearts, we pray to 
 the Lord to bless and change our hearts, and change our master’s 
 hearts likewise.” [Ib. p. 23.] 
 
 Whether the humane, virtuous, and most religious 
 planters, managers, overseers, and slave-drivers of Deme¬ 
 rara may think it a libellous, and even treasonable imputa¬ 
 tion upon their characters, for a slave, or any one to pray 
 for that change of heart, which a supplicant well may ask at 
 
365 
 
 Trial of Mr. John S>mith, Missionary. 
 
 the throne of His grace, who has declared that “ the heart of 
 man is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked/’ 
 aud who has expressly commanded us to pray that “ a new 
 heart” may be put within us—we pause not to inquire, but 
 satisfied that no real Christian can agree with them in their 
 pharisaical opinion, we pass on to extract other parts of 
 the evidence of this deacon of a church, whose worship was 
 so evangelical, and truly catholic in its spirit. 
 
 « When you instruct the negroes in the meaning of the Ordi¬ 
 nance, what do you tell them?—I tell them to consider what they 
 are going about, and that they must pray to God, and prepare 
 their minds, and that they must not thereafter commit sin again; 
 that we must look to God to help us at any time, and we must 
 consider well what we hear read in the bible every day, because, if we 
 do partake of the Ordinance, and commit sin again, we have a 
 greater account to give when w’e die.” [Ib. p. 24.] 
 
 “ What did the people complain they were licked for ?—Some of 
 them complained of having been licked because they did not attend 
 to the work given them on the sabbath. 
 
 « Did they complain to Mr. Smith that they were licked for any 
 thing else?—They might have done so, but 1 do not know of it. 
 
 “ Did Mr. Smith ever encourage any negroes or negro to run 
 away ?—I never heard he did.” [lb. p. 25.] 
 
 “ Did the prisoner ever punish the negroes, who were members of 
 his congregation, for running away from their masters? Yes ; if 
 they happened to be members of the church, they would not be 
 allowed to come to the table any more. 
 
 « Did the prisoner ever give you or the people any advice con¬ 
 cerning your spending money at funerals? \es; he said it any 
 body died, he told us that we must not buy hogs or fowls, but rather 
 to use our money to buy mourning. 
 
 “ Did the prisoner ever say any thing to you about getting drunk 
 at funerals ?—Yes j he said we must not buy so much rum and other 
 liquors, to make people drunk when they come to funerals. 
 
 “ Do you remember the small-pox being on Le Resouvenir ? 5 es. 
 
 “ What day was it that you first heard of its being there? I 
 cannot remember the day rightly now. 
 
 “ Was it on a Sunday ?—I cannot tell. 
 
 “ Do vou ever remember being turned away from the chapel, and 
 not being allowed to remain in the service?—5 es. 
 
 “ On what occasion did this happen, and what was told you on 
 that occasion, and by whom ?—On account of the small-pox; Mr. 
 Smith, the prisoner, told us that the doctor said that the small-pox 
 was there, and that we must not come. 
 
 “ Did you ever see any negro punished by the prisoner for run¬ 
 ning away from his master?—\es. ... 
 
 « Who?_I saw York, of Success, for one; he is the only member 
 
366 
 
 Review.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 I have seen punished ; the rest are Christians; I can’t remember 
 their names; some Christians from Mahaica-side; can’t remember 
 their names. 
 
 “ How long ago was this ?—It is almost a year now, 
 
 “ (Question by the Court:) —How are they punished ?—York is 
 a member, and he would not allow him to come to the ordinance 
 any more ; the others, he said if they ran away they must not come 
 to chapel.—[Ibid. p. 99.] 
 
 Such is the evidence of this negro, adduced to criminate 
 Mr. Smith, by proving the seditious nature of his instruc¬ 
 tions to the negroes, instead of which, it proves directly 
 the reverse; as we might safely defy any man, placed in his 
 circumstances, to have acted with more prudence than he 
 is here shewn to have uniformly displayed. A few sen¬ 
 tences in the last extract furnishes also a proof of his rea¬ 
 diness to comply with the orders of government, even 
 when conveyed by such meddling consequential jacks in 
 office, as Mr. Burgher-master Doctor Me Turk, (the very 
 counterpart of his gallant and most officious namesake, 
 in the tale of St. Ronan’s Well,) whose inveterate prejudices 
 against the accused this testimony of Bristol serves to 
 confirm. But we here quit his testimony, for that of the 
 negroes called by the prisoner, who have this advantage 
 over those produced by the prosecutor, that they were for 
 the most part no longer slaves, and were altogether free 
 from any participation in the insurrection which Mr. Smith 
 was charged with exciting. We simply make our extracts 
 in the order of the evidence, for commentary they cannot 
 need. 
 
 Philip, (Free.) 
 
 “ Did you ever, on any occasion, go to the prisoner for his 
 advice? I did. 
 
 “ Do you recollect any particular instance, and if yea, will you 
 state what passed on that occasion ?—When I was at the Kitty 
 from a change of my owner, I felt the treatment very severe, and 
 I went to complain to the prisoner, and when I went up to him, 
 I laid my case before him; after Mr. Smith had given me know¬ 
 ledge, and I returned home, I found myself entirely in the wrong; 
 and from Mr. Smith s advice to me, I became a faithful servant 
 until I was sold. 
 
 “ What was the advice Mr. Smith gave you?—He told me a ser¬ 
 vant must be dutiful to his master, and all that are put over him. 
 
 “ Do you remember any of the doctrines and duties taught you and 
 the people by the prisoner ?—I do. He told me, if my master sent 
 me any where about his duty, that I must be very particular in see- 
 
Trial o/'Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 367 
 
 iug it done; and if I had not got this advice from Mr. Smith, the 
 prisoner, I should not have been my own man this day. 
 
 “Do you remember the prisoner calling up all the members, and 
 asking them where they had been, and when they said their masters 
 gave them work, he told them they were fools for working on a Sun¬ 
 day for the sake of a few lashes?—I do not know any thing of that; 
 it did not happen in my presence.” [Ibid. p. 102.] 
 
 Mary Chisholm, (Free.) 
 
 “ Have you any slaves of your own ; and did they attend on the 
 prisoner’s chapel?—I have; and they did attend the prisoner’s 
 chapel. 
 
 “ Had you ever any fear that the prisoner’s instructions would 
 make your slaves dissatisfied with you as their mistress?—No, I 
 never had any fear of that. 
 
 “ Did you attend the Sunday morning services?—Sometimes. 
 
 “Were you, when you attended, attentive to the prayers offered 
 up by the deacons and members on those occasions?—Sometimes 
 I was. 
 
 “ When you were attentive, did you hear any thing particular in 
 those prayers?—Yes, I heard them pray for the world at large, 
 the king, and their master, and for themselves, their children, and 
 every body. 
 
 “ \\ ere persons in the habit of coming in during the prayers of 
 the deacons?—Yes.” [Ibid. p. 105.] 
 
 Mars. 
 
 “ Did you ever give any money to the prisoner for the Missionary 
 Society ?—Yes. 
 
 “ After you had given the money, did you ever feel that you wanted 
 it back; or did you ever wish that you had never given it?—No. 
 
 “ Did you ever find that the prisoner’s reading or preaching made 
 you unhappy, or dissatisfied?—It satisfied me. 
 
 “ Did it make you dissatisfied with your condition as a slave?— 
 It did not; it made me satisfied.” [Ibid. p. 112.] 
 
 Bill. 
 
 “ Did you ever hear the prisoner tell the negroes, “ that if their 
 masters had work for them, to say, that Sunday was God’s day?”— 
 No, I never heard him say that.” [Ibid. p. 115.] 
 
 W ith respect to the order and conduct of the prisoner’s 
 negro church, we hesitate not to say, that it would do 
 honour to the most regular of the congregational pastors and 
 people of his native land; for the evidence most satisfactorily 
 proved, that great care was taken in the admission of mem¬ 
 bers ; that every vigilance was used in watching over their 
 behaviour; and that those prompt and effectual measures 
 for correcting their faults were adopted, which the disci¬ 
 pline of our churches of the same denomination will allow. 
 
368 
 
 Review.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 Their assemblies were public, and, even at the ordinance, 
 open to the inspection of any white person who chose to at¬ 
 tend them, either as auditors, or as some occasionally did, as 
 spies. It was an accusation against their pastor, gravely 
 preferred by the advocate-general and first fiscal of the 
 colony, filling consequently the offices both of its ordinary 
 and extraordinary public prosecutor, that he took money 
 from the negroes; and it is proved by the witnesses called 
 in support of such a charge (if charge it can be for a mo¬ 
 ment termed, without the most violent perversion of the 
 very a b c of our judicial phraseology,) is, that they con¬ 
 tributed, according to their very limited means, and altoge¬ 
 ther of their own free will,—at the sacrament a bitt or two 
 apiece towards the bread and wine of which they partook, and 
 the lighting of the chapel in which they worshipped,—and 
 at an annual collection in aid of the funds of the Missionary 
 Society, to whose benevolent exertions they were indebted 
 for all they knew of a well-founded hope of an hereafter, 
 whatever their gratitude prompted, and their industry, so¬ 
 briety, and frugality, (virtues for which they were indebted 
 to the Christianity which that Society had taught them,) 
 enabled them voluntarily and cheerfully to give, for the pur¬ 
 pose of making others as wise and comparatively as happy 
 as themselves. The petty malice of his persecutors con¬ 
 descended also to stoop to a minute inquiry into how many 
 fowls, and ducks, and geese might have been given to Mr. or 
 rather to Mrs. Smith, from the produce and stock of those 
 grounds, to the cultivation of which their exhortations had 
 induced these negroes diligently to attend; and with the 
 overwhelming fact of her having very occasionally accepted a 
 few such trifling marks of gratitude, from those whose chil¬ 
 dren she had taught to read, and endeavoured to train up in 
 the nurture and admonition of the Lord,—those for whose in¬ 
 struction in the way of righteousness, she and her husband 
 had voluntarily abandoned all the delights of country, kin¬ 
 dred, home, for an unhealthy climate, and daily and hourly ex¬ 
 perience of the scorn and contumely of men the most selfish 
 and hard-hearted of their race. Yet by such a mean and 
 despicable course, the unsought testimony to a continued 
 and unwearied kindness, meriting a more liberal return, was 
 accidentally extracted, of their supplying the sick negroes 
 with wine and other comforts, and frequently furnishing 
 many of them with their Sunday’s meal. But a charge still 
 more ridiculous was minutely examined into, the selling 
 bibles and other religious books and tracts to the atten- 
 
369 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 dants on his ministry, to the relevancy of which, Mr. Smith 
 very properly objected, that he was not tried for obtaining „ 
 money under false pretences; but the court sagely over¬ 
 ruled the objection, on the ground, we apprehend, for we 
 can discover no other, that, acting as an agent to the Bible 
 Society in Demarara, by selling bibles to the negroes, is an 
 overt act of treason against the state. Some hours were 
 consequently wasted in examining witnesses to this point, 
 who all of them proved, that the bibles were sold by the 
 prisoner, as is the custom with the agents of the noble insti¬ 
 tution for which he acted, amongst whom had been an epis¬ 
 copal chaplain to the colony, at full price to such as could 
 ifford to buy—for less, to those who could not,—and even 
 given to those who had nothing wherewithal to buy the 
 word of God on any terms. 
 
 Another matter of garve charge against Mr. Smith was, 
 ills permitting and encouraging the deacons to pray by 
 themselves amongst their brother slaves; and were not the 
 nature and termination of this inquiry loo serious for a joke, 
 we could laugh most heartily at the absurd importance 
 attached to the office and conduct of the said deacons, in 
 their regular ministrations in the church, which induced the 
 assistant advocate-general so to stultify himself, as gravely 
 to ask, whether they were known to each other by any 
 secret signs ; as though, to the great terror and alarm of his 
 majesty’s good loyal and peaceful subjects, the planters of 
 Demerara, the shibboleth of freemasonry, and the anarchi¬ 
 cal and unchristianizing fraternization of the German illu- 
 minati, had entered into the humble worship of the con¬ 
 verted slaves of the colony. But the evidence called by 
 the prosecutor, to prove this most dreadful conspiracy, 
 instead of deposing to secret signs, meetings with closed 
 doors, and all the caution and privacy of a dark divan, 
 most incontestably proved, that the deacons held no private 
 meetings; that from none of the assemblies of the church, 
 not even at the sacrament itself, were the white people 
 excluded; but that, on the contrary, whoever would, might 
 at all times enter the open door of the place of worship, to 
 take notice of their order, and scrutinize as closely as they 
 pleased, every thing that w’as said, and done, and read, and 
 prayed, and preached within. This will be clearly shewn 
 by the few extracts which we shall give from the testimony 
 of Azor and other slaves. 
 
 Azor. 
 
 “ The first service is called morning prayer: they sing hymns-aud 
 
370 Review.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 read, and the two deacons pray; first, Quamina prays, next Bristol; 
 sometimes, next Sunday, Jason, and sometimes Seaton: this pray¬ 
 ing is aloud; every body is admitted at these morning prayer meet¬ 
 ings; white people may come at the morning prayer if they please; 
 the doors are open whilst the deacons are praying. I know the 
 prisoner: his name is Smith; he is a parson; he is the parson of 
 Bethel chapel: the prisoner reads and explains to us at all times 
 passages in the bible: at noon-time he explains the text; in the 
 morning he explains the word about David and Moses.” [House of 
 Commons Report, p. 13.] 
 
 Romeo. 
 
 “I am a deacon of that chapel. The duty of a deacon is to 
 teach the catechism, or so; the deacons do not meet by themselves, 
 but in the chapel, along with the members and others.” [Ibid. p. 14.] 
 
 “ Every body is admitted at morning prayers. The prisoner does 
 not pray alone at the morning service, he takes two of the negroes, 
 members, and makes them pray first, and then he prays afterwards: 
 the prayers are aloud, the doors are open during the prayers.” 
 
 [Ibid. p. 15.] Bristol. 
 
 The deacons do not meet together by themselves. Sometimes 
 after the service of a morning and afternoon, the deacons stop be¬ 
 hind with the parson; that is, after the other people are gone. 
 When we stop it is for the purpose of going with him into the 
 house, to reckon up money. Some of the members stop besides. 
 The money' we have thrown up for the Missionary Society is what 
 we stop to reckon.” [Ibid. p. 20.] 
 
 Having thus disposed of all the irrelevant matter relating 
 to Mr. Smith’s general conduct in his ministrations among 
 the slaves, as to no part of which was the inquiry instituted, 
 or evidence given, legal, or even approximating to the ordi¬ 
 nary forms and wholesome restrictions of English law; we 
 come to the more regular part of the charge, if in such pro¬ 
 ceedings any thing can, even by comparison, deserve the 
 name of regularity. We allude to the exciting, and con¬ 
 cealing when it had been excited, the insurrection of the 
 18th of August. The only proof of excitement attempted 
 to be given, is the very extraordinary one of his having 
 preached on the Sunday preceding that tumultuary move¬ 
 ment, from the 41st and 42d verses of the 19th chapter of 
 the gospel of St. Luke,—“ When he was come near, he be¬ 
 held the city, and wept over it, saying, if thou hadst known, 
 even thou, at least in this thy day, the things which belong 
 unto thy peace! but now they are hid from thine eyes.” 
 Upon the propriety of preaching from this text, we shall 
 give a better opinion than our own, in the following extract 
 from the evidence of the Rev. Mr. Austin, chaplain to the gar- 
 
371 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 rison in George-town, and officiating minister in the only 
 place of worship belonging to the established church in 
 the colony of Demerara. 
 
 “ Will you have the goodness to look at the 41st and 42d verses 
 of the 19th chapter of Luke, and say whether you consider that an 
 improper text for a sermon?—I consider it one of the most beauti¬ 
 ful texts in scripture. 
 
 “ Have you ever taken these two verses, and preached from them 
 as a text?—I am sorry to say I have not. 
 
 Is it not a text very often 'preached from ?—I believe so : the 
 passage is very frequently introduced in sermons, and I believe I 
 have introduced them myself.” [House of Com. Rep. p. 95.] 
 
 Nor do we shrink from examining the evidence of those 
 slaves who deposed to having heard this discourse, as it 
 will be manifest from the extracts which we now give, that 
 not a single word or syllable was said, capable of being 
 tortured into an application of this text to any impending 
 danger to the colony, still less to any excitement of the 
 slaves to become the avengers of their accumulated wrongs. 
 And first for 
 
 Romeo. 
 
 “ I recollect the revolt, it was one Monday night: I was at 
 church the Sunday before the Monday: the text the prisoner 
 preached from that day was the 19th chapter of St. Luke, begin¬ 
 ning at the 41st and 42d verses: the 41st says, ‘When Jesus 
 came near the city, he wept over it.’ I forget the discourse.” [Ib. 
 p. 15.] 
 
 So much for its treasonable and insurrectionary tendency. 
 So little impression did it make upon a man who had for 
 some time known the intention of the negroes to revolt, 
 that he forgot it altogether. The same account of it is 
 given by the next witness. 
 
 Negro Joe. 
 
 “ I was at church at Le Resouvenir the Sunday before that Mon¬ 
 day ; I do not recollect what the text was, but there are some words 
 in the chapter I know. The parson said, the Lord Jesus Christ 
 sent a disciple into a certain village, and you will see a colt tied 
 there, bring it unto me, and if the master of the colt should ask 
 you what you are going to do with it, you must say, the Lord hath 
 need of it; and they brought it to the Lord, and laid some raiment 
 on it; and He rode it to Jerusalem, and He rode it to the top of a 
 mountain, where He could see Jerusalem all over; and he wept 
 over Jerusalem, and said, if they had known their peace, that is to 
 say, if the people knew what belonged to them, they would believe 
 in Him; now their trouble would come upon them. So far l can 
 make out. I cannot remember any thing more. 
 
372 
 
 Review.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 “ (Question by the Prisoner .)—Were the words you mention 
 spoken by the prisoner, or read from a book or bible ?—He read 
 them from the bible.” [Ib. p. 16. 17.] 
 
 Nor did it otherwise affect any one, as we shall find by 
 the accounts given of it by the witnesses, in the order in 
 which they stand. Manuec. 
 
 “ I remember the Sunday before the Monday that the war broke 
 out: I was in Bethel chapel on that day. I remember the text on 
 that day. Jesus came out, and He stooped down and looked, and 
 He wept. He looked down upon the city, and said, this city shall 
 be destroyed this day, meaning Jerusalem. This city, Jerusalem, 
 was to be destroyed, because they did not believe in God; that 
 made Jesus Christ speak this word.” [Ib. p. 17.] 
 
 Bristol. 
 
 “ 1 was at the forenoon service. 1 believe Mr. Smith read some¬ 
 thing about Jesus looking upon the city of Jerusalem and weeping.” 
 [Ib. p. 22.] 
 
 Mary Chisholm. 
 
 “ Did you notice any thing particular in the sermon on the Sun¬ 
 day before the revolt?—It was something about Christ’s going 
 through Jerusalem; I cannot say exactly. 
 
 “Were there any whites present at that sermon?—I believe 
 there were.” [Ib. p. 106.] 
 
 The second and third of the written charges, attributes 
 to Mr. Smith, the having, on or before the 17th of August, 
 “ advised, consulted, and corresponded with a certain negro 
 called Quamina, touching” the revolt which confessedly 
 broke out on the following day; and with having on the 
 same 17th of August come to the knowledge of such in¬ 
 tended revolt, without making it known to the proper autho¬ 
 rities. Now there is no pretence from the evidence, to sup¬ 
 pose that Mr. Smith either conversed with Quamina on this 
 subject, or knew any thing about it, until the Sunday 
 fortnight before the insurrection broke out: the account of 
 what took place then, is thus given by 
 
 Manuel. 
 
 “ I know a negro, Quamina, of plantation Success. I went with 
 Quamina to the prisoner’s house. I remember the last time I went 
 there; it was three Sundays before this war came. A conversa¬ 
 tion took place that day between Quamina, Mr. Smith, and myself. 
 Jack came to me one night, and told me that a paper had come out 
 lor us about freedom. I asked Jack if he had the paper in his 
 hand already; Jack told me no, but that he would get it. I came 
 to Quamina, and I asked him, What is this Jack has been telling me 
 about the paper of freedom ? I asked him if he knew any thing 
 about it. He told me, no; he could not tell me yet J and I told 
 
373 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 Quamina he had better ask the parson, and he would let him know 
 better about it. Quamina told me, I don’t believe that he will 
 tell you. I said, never mind, ask him nevertheless. I begged 
 Quamina to let me go with him. Quamina then was going, and 
 told me I might follow him. I went into the parson’s kitchen to 
 get water to drink. Quamina went into the room before me. 
 Quamina said to the parson, I understand Mr. Stewart and 
 Mr. Cort came here on Friday; what did they come about? 
 they came to ask the parson if any negro ever came to ask him 
 about this paper. He said, yes, Quamina had come to ask him, 
 and he told Quamina as far as he could. The parson said that 
 he wanted to read this paper to the negroes inside in the chapel, 
 but Mr. Cort told him not to do it. Mr. Cort said he wanted 
 to read it to the Success people, but he was afraid of the governor. 
 The parson told Quamina that Mr. Cort and Mr. Stewart had given 
 him and the Success people a very good character; that Seaton 
 was of good service on the estate in teaching the people. After 
 this, Mr. Smith told Quamina that there was no freedom in the 
 paper, and that their masters could not afford to lose so much 
 money as to let them all go free; and he told Quamina there was 
 no freedom in the paper at all. He told them to bear with patience, 
 if there was anything good come, it was come for the women, because 
 the drivers were not to carry whips any longer in the field. Quamina 
 told Mr. Smith to take Jack and Joseph, and talk to them. Mr. 
 Smith agreed to take them after chapel; and after one o’clock he 
 did take them, but I cannot tell what he said. Quamina told the 
 parson, in my hearing, that Jack and Joseph wanted to make 
 trouble on account of this affair about the paper, and to make a 
 push for it, and for that reason he wished the parson to speak to 
 them. Joseph lives at Bachelor’s Adventure, and Jack lives at 
 Success. Jack is the son of Quamina. Joseph is a teacher and 
 member of the church.” [Ib. p. 17, 18.] 
 
 “ Where was the prisoner when you and Quamina went to speak 
 to him ?—Quite up in the top story of his own house, the place 
 where he writes. 
 
 “ Was the door of the room open or shut?—The door was shut; 
 always when we go in there, the door is shut. 
 
 “ Was the door shut at the time you and he, and Quamina, were 
 talking together?—The door was shut. 
 
 “ I)id you hear all the conversation that passed at that time 
 between Mr. Smith and Quamina?—Yes.” [Ib. p. 19.] 
 
 To this extract of the whole of this negro approver s evi¬ 
 dence, as applicable to this conversation, we add the follow¬ 
 ing sentence most disingenuously omitted at the end of that 
 extract, in the official copy, but supplied in the one fur¬ 
 nished by the counsel for the accused, “ always when he is 
 there alone, the door is shut, so that it any thing turned 
 
374 Revieio.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 upon the shutting of the door, it appears to have been the 
 regular course for it to be shut. 
 
 But to proceed with this case by steps. Taking the 
 evidence of Manuel to have been all true, though it was 
 proved that the conversation with respect to Mr. Cort and 
 Mr. Stewart, which Mr. Smith is represented to have referred 
 to, had not then taken place,—we boldly ask whether it does 
 not prove that Mr. Smith, instead of exciting to revolt, did 
 every thing in his power to repress every intention of the 
 kind in his irritated and but half-instructed flock ? Our readers 
 need notbe reminded, that no part of the conversations with 
 the different negroes, at different times, at which Mr. Smith 
 was not present, was evidence against him, nor, as he was 
 the only person on trial or under charge, was it admissible 
 as evidence in any shape; yet, as though the prosecutors 
 were acting under a blind but uncontrollable fatality, in sub¬ 
 verting all the rules of law for his conviction, but the more 
 triumphantly to display his innocence,—we learn from it, 
 what was the real cause of the revolt, namely, the improper 
 withholding by the governor from the negroes, the instruc¬ 
 tions received from England, to desist from the unmanly, 
 brutal, and indecent practice of flogging female slaves. 
 Some exaggerated reports of privileges arrived for them, 
 were evidently abroad; and what so natural as that they 
 should apply to their pastor to know what they were? 
 Finding that they had magnified into a charter of freedom, 
 what was, in fact, but a deliverance from a small portion of 
 their pain and ignominy, he answers their application by 
 doing all he can to undeceive them upon the subject, and ex¬ 
 horts them to patience, instead of driving them to rebel¬ 
 lion. To this he is accused of having in particular excited 
 Quamina, one of his deacons; yet this very man, with whom 
 he is supposed to be a conspirator, dissuades the others 
 from going to him to ask about their freedom, on the ground 
 that he did not believe he would tell them any thing about 
 it. He had previously been assured by Mr. Smith, that the 
 paper for which they were so anxious, did not, as they sup¬ 
 posed, set them free; yet (most inconsistently, if the im¬ 
 putation be true,) does he take his son and another negro 
 to Mr. Smith, to beg of him to talk to them on their 
 determination to adopt some violent measures on the sub¬ 
 ject; and who can doubt but that his object was to induce 
 his pastor to use his influence with those headstrong 
 slaves, to persuade them to be quiet, when it appears 
 in evidence, that Manuel asked Jack, one of these men, 
 
375 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 the son of Quamina, what Mr. Snith had told him; and 
 the counsel for the prosecution do not venture ton iquire 
 what that was. Their conduct upon other occasions, and 
 even throughout the examination of this very witness, abun¬ 
 dantly proves that it was no objection to hear say evidence, 
 which restrained them upon this occasion. The accused 
 has, therefore, a right to the legitimate presumption in 
 his favour, that they asked not what advice he gave, be¬ 
 cause from their previous examination of the witness, they 
 knew full well that it would make against their charge. 
 That it must have done so, is manifest from the conduct of 
 Quamina, as detailed by this witness, not only on this occa¬ 
 sion, but on the Sunday preceding the revolt, when he 
 went a second time with Bristol to Mr. Smith, to inform 
 him, on the suggestion of Manuel, of theviolent disposition 
 of some of the slaves. On the latter occasion, it was in evi¬ 
 dence, though, to the eternal disgrace of those who prepared 
 it, there is no record of that evidence in the official copy of 
 the trial, that his companion declared that Mr. Smith said 
 it was wrong, and they ought not to do any such thing. In¬ 
 stead, therefore, of proving an encouragement to rebellion 
 by Mr. Smith, this witness proves most decidedly that he 
 did all that lay in his power to convince his negro flock of 
 their mistake as to the order recently arrived from this 
 country, and to prevent their taking any violent means to 
 obtain even a knowledge of its contents. No communica¬ 
 tion of an intended rising is proved by Manuel to have 
 been made to him, but is expressly negatived by other wit¬ 
 nesses; and if he ever was informed of the wish of some turbu¬ 
 lent spirits, to force a communication of what they consi¬ 
 dered to be their charter of freedom from their masters, it 
 is clear that he had every reason to suppose that his exhor¬ 
 tations had prevailed upon them to lay aside whatever wild 
 schemes of violence they had entertained, especially as, for 
 a fortnight after such disposition had been known to him, 
 they had remained in perfect quietude. It is worthy of 
 remark also, that this man’s testimony, so far from proving 
 Quamina to have been a leader of the insurrection, affords 
 strong reason for believing, on the contrary, that up to the 
 last moment of his communication with Mr. Smith, he, as a 
 deacon of the church, was endeavouring to employ the influ¬ 
 ence of that gentleman, as their pastor, to repress the spirit 
 of insubordination which was rapidly spreading among the 
 people; and if the latter had no reason to suspect the for¬ 
 mer to be a rebel, or meditating rebellion, the charge of 
 
376 
 
 Review.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 subsequent correspondence with him is as unsupported in 
 fact, as in the present case it is void in law. 
 
 The next witness to conversations with Quamina, is Bris¬ 
 tol, whose account of that on the 17th, is as follows :— 
 
 “ After service was over, did you go straight home?—No, I did 
 not. 
 
 “ Were did you go to?—We stopped close to the chapel a little 
 while, when we heard Jack and Joseph talking about a paper that 
 had come from home, that the people were all to be made free. 
 Emanuel told Quamina, that he had better go and ask Mr. Smith 
 about it. And when Quamina was going into Mr. Smith’s house, 
 I went in with him; and when we went in, Quamina asked Mr. 
 Smith if any freedom had come out for them. Mr. Smith said no, 
 but that there was good law come out for them, but no freedom for 
 them ; he said, you must wait a little, and the governor and your 
 masters will tell you about it. Quamina then said, that Jack and 
 Joseph were speaking very much about it, and he said that they 
 wanted to take it by force; he, Smith, told them to wait, and not to 
 be foolish. How do you mean that they should take it by force ? 
 you cannot do any thing with the white people, because the soldiers 
 will be more strong than you, therefore you had better wait. He 
 said, well, you had better go, and tell the people, and Christians 
 particularly, that they had better have nothing to do with it, and 
 then we came out; and I saw a man belonging to Vigilance re¬ 
 maining at the church ; I called him; Quamina began to speak to 
 him, and asked me if I had any money in my pocket? I told him 
 two bitts ; he told this man ; then giving him the two bitts, run up 
 as fast as you can, and call down Joseph; Mr. Smith wants to see 
 him. I then went home, and told Manuel that I had seen Mr; 
 Smith, and that he said there was no freedom in the paper for us, 
 and that we must tell all the people so. I told him that we had sent to 
 call Joseph already; a little while after, Jack and Paris came up 
 to the back buildings of Chalteau Margo, and Manuel told them 
 that Mr. Smith had told them not to have any thing to do with this 
 business, and that Manuel had been telling them so before; Jack and 
 Paris said, well, do you have nothing to do with it, you are cowards. 
 
 “ That is all I want. 
 
 “ When Mr. Smith said the soldiers would be too much for 
 them, what did Quamina say?—He said, he would drive all the 
 white people, and make them go to town. 
 
 “ Did Quamina say what he would do with the soldiers?—That 
 the report was, the soldiers would not come, they would have 
 nothing to do with it; he did not tell Mr. Smith that, he told it after we 
 came out from Mr. Smith.” [Missionary Society’s Report,p. 24.] 
 
 Had such remarkable expressions been used, as those 
 relative to the soldiers, we put it to the candour of every¬ 
 one, whether they would not have made as deep an imprest 
 
377 
 
 Trial of My. John Smith, Missionary . 
 
 sion upon the mind of others who heard them, as upon Bris¬ 
 tol ; yet we shall by and by shew distinctly, not only that 
 they did not so impress them, but that they were not used. 
 Nor is this the only important point on which the evidence 
 of these two is contradictory; for whilst he represents him¬ 
 self as sending the man from Vigilance to fetch Joseph, 
 because Mr. Smith wanted him, Manuel, who was con¬ 
 fessedly present when he despatched him, swears that he 
 was sent after Bristol had been the second time to Mr. 
 Smith, to tell him not to do any thing with the white men’s 
 guns. It is manifest, therefore, in what spirit, and under 
 what influence, this active agent in the insurrection gave his 
 evidence; and we shall be able to make it still further mani¬ 
 fest, that he is so completely contradicted as to the main 
 part of his statement, that it cannot for a moment be be¬ 
 lieved. From such a witness, whatever is favourable to the 
 accused, acquires, however, a double value; and we there¬ 
 fore direct the attention of our readers to the strong facts 
 of this alleged exciter of sedition and dissatisfaction in the 
 minds of the slaves, having told them that the law which 
 had come out for them was a good one ;—having recom¬ 
 mended them to w r ait a little till their governors and masters 
 told them about it;—repeated that advice ;—and expressly 
 directed them not to have any thing to do with force for 
 the attainment of their object. And were there no other 
 testimony in his favour, can any thing, we would ask, be 
 more absurd than charging with treasonable intentions, the 
 individual, who, by the testimony of the very men whom he 
 is said to have excited to insurrection, exerted all his in¬ 
 fluence to allay every angry feeling in their minds? It is 
 worthy also of remark, that the evidence of this negro proves 
 that there had been no particular plan of insurrection formed, 
 until the meeting of the slaves in the middle-walk of Resou¬ 
 venir, and that was some time after any of them had been 
 in communication with Mr. Smith. It is, therefore, the 
 height at once of absurdity and injustice, to charge him 
 with not having communicated to government what he never 
 knew, and what, at the last moment when he held conversa¬ 
 tion with any of the insurgents, previous to their revolt, 
 they themselves had not agreed upon. It is clear also, that 
 whatever might be meant by driving the white people, or 
 rather the managers, to town, no intimation was given to 
 Mr. Smith as to the period at which this was to be done. 
 This is placed beyond all doubt by the following extracts 
 from his cross-examination of Bristol: — 
 
378 
 
 Review.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 “ Did Quamina tell Mr. Smith by what means they intended to 
 drive the white people to town ?—No ; he did not. 
 
 “ Did Quamina say for what purpose they were to be driven to 
 town ?_No ; no further than I said before, that Jack and Quamina 
 had said their freedom had come out. 
 
 “ Did he, Quamina, say when the white people were to be driven 
 to town ?—No. 
 
 “ Did you hear all the conversation that passed between Qua¬ 
 mina and Mr. Smith at that time?—Yes. 
 
 “ Did you and Quamina and Mr. Smith talk about anything else 
 at that time ?—No, not that I remember. 
 
 “ Did you talk to Mr. Smith on that Sunday about your little 
 girl 7 —Yes, I believe I did before that, before Quamina went in ; 
 when I spoke to him about the little girl, Quamina was not with me.” 
 [Ib. p. 26.] 
 
 We have transcribed a little more of the evidence of this 
 man than relates to the ignorance of Mr. Smith of the 
 time of any intended rising of the slaves, because in the 
 latter part he clearly contradicts himself; having previously 
 sworn most distinctly that he and Quamina went in toge¬ 
 ther ; whilst it will soon be shewn that other persons were pre¬ 
 sent during that conversation, of which Bristol gives the only 
 account of any thing passing, which bears even the slightest 
 resemblance to a criminal concealment of a projected insur¬ 
 rection. Had he been the fomenter of this insurrection, as 
 he is charged with having been, is it possible that he should 
 have been kept in the dark as to the intended rising? yet 
 from the evidence of Bristol himself, it is evident that he 
 was not even informed of the meeting after the second ser¬ 
 vice on the Sunday, at which the plan of that insurrection 
 was for the first time discussed and arranged. The follow¬ 
 ing extracts from his re-examination by the court, puts this 
 matter beyond all doubt. 
 
 “ Did you know any thing of the meeting that was held on Suc¬ 
 cess Middle-walk on Sunday ?—No; I knew there was to be a 
 meeting somewhere, but did not know where. 
 
 “ Did you, or Quamina, mention the circumstance of the intended 
 meeting to Mr. Smith ?—No. 
 
 “ Did you know of the meeting at the time you and Quamina 
 were with Mr. Smith?—Yes.” [House of Com. Rep. p. 28.] 
 
 We now come to the contradictions of Bristol, as to the 
 remarkable conversation with respect the soldiers. He de¬ 
 clared upon oath that he did not see any person present 
 during that conversation, but Quamina. Seaton, however, 
 swears that he was there with them, and that there was no 
 
379 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 one else. His version of the dialogue with Mr. Smith, 
 differs, it will be seen, very materially from that of Bristol, 
 and contains not a syllable about the soldiers. 
 
 “ Whilst you were present with Quamina and Mr. Smith, did you 
 hear any conversation between them?—Yes. 
 
 “Will you state it?—Quamina went there to Mr. Smith, and 
 asked him about this paper; Mr. Smith said yes; ‘ that the paper 
 is come out—that the paper had come out so far as to break the 
 drivers; and that nobody should be licked any more again; and that 
 if any body should be licked, it would be by their masters, or their 
 managers; and if any thing more than that, they were to be con¬ 
 fined.’ After I had heard that, Quamina told me to go away to the 
 middle-walk of Success, to stop the people till he came, and I 
 went with Manuel to stop them. 
 
 “ What was the purport of Quamina’s first visit from the chapel to 
 the prisoner?—He went to ask Mr. Smith about the letter that had 
 come out from home.’ [Ib. p. 36, 37.] 
 
 He, however, is contradicted in his turn by another wit¬ 
 ness, Peter, who increases the number of negroes present 
 at this discourse to five, namely, Quamina, Bristol, Seaton, 
 Shute, and himself; and he swears that Seaton was with 
 them during the whole of the conversation, which lasted 
 but a minute, and that they all five went out of the house 
 together. His account of what took place is altogether 
 different from that already given, and proves Mr. Smith to 
 have acted then, as he appears always to have done, the 
 part of a man most anxious to allay, rather than to create, 
 dissatisfaction in the minds of his negro flock. 
 
 “ Did Quamina say any thing to the prisoner; if yea, what was 
 it?—Yes; he said he was going to drive all them managers from the 
 estates to the court, to see what was the best thing they could obtain 
 for those slaves; then Mr. Smith answered and said, that that was 
 foolish, how will you be able to drive them white people to town ? 
 and he said, them white people try to do good for you, and that 
 if the slaves behaved so, that they would lose their right; and he 
 said, Quamina, don’t bring yourself into any disgrace; that the 
 white people were now making a law to prevent the women being 
 flogged, but that the law had not come out yet; and the men 
 should not get any flogging in the field, but when they were to be 
 flogged, they should be brought to the manager, attorney, or pro¬ 
 prietor for that purpose; then he said, Quamina, do you hear this ? 
 and then Quamina said yes, and we came out.” [Missionary Report, 
 
 p. 128.] 
 
 He also thus expressly contradicts the advice about the 
 soldiers, which Bristol speaks to so particularly, and Seaton 
 gets rid of, by falsely swearing that he was sent away by 
 
 VOL. viii. — no. 3, 2d 
 
380 
 
 Review.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 Quamina at an earlier part of the conversation; for that he 
 did so swear falsely, is proved not only by Peter, but by 
 Shute, who, with Peter, swears that the whole five went 
 away together: 
 
 “ (By the Court .)—Did Mr. Smith say any thing about the 
 Christians ?—Nothing. 
 
 “ Did you hear Mr. Smith say any thing about the soldiers ?— 
 No, sir. 
 
 “ Did you hear Quamina say any thing about Jack and Joseph ? 
 —No, sir. 
 
 “ Did you hear Jack and Joseph’s name mentioned at all ?—No; 
 he did not call any body’s name.” [Ib. p. 129.] 
 
 Shute also convicts Bristol of another gross falsehood, 
 for he proves that so far from its being possible for him to 
 mistake as to who was with him at the conversation, he 
 himself came from Quamina to fetch the witness and Peter 
 to Mr. Smith. His account of what took place there, corre¬ 
 sponds in substance with that of Peter. As it is short, it 
 may be more satisfactory to extract it. 
 
 “ Did any, and what, conversation pass on that occasion?— 
 Yes; Quamina said to Mr. Smith, he was going to drive all the 
 managers down; and Mr. Smith told him, no; for the white people 
 are doing many good things for you, and if you are going to do 
 that—you must not do that, Quamina, I tell you: Quamina said, 
 yes, I will see: and after that we all came out of the house from 
 Mr. Smith. 
 
 “ Did Quamina say what he was going to drive the managers 
 down for?—That they must come down, that they may have a 
 good law to give them a day or two for themselves. 
 
 “Was Seaton there all the time?—Yes.” THouse of Com. 
 Rep. p. 118.] 
 
 Upon evidence thus contradictory, it would be impossible 
 to convict any one even of the most trifling offence; but 
 when it is remembered that this is the evidence of accom¬ 
 plices on their own confession, whose lives were forfeited 
 hy their actual revolt—that it was the evidence of negro 
 recollection of conversation with a white man, some months 
 ago—we cannot but strike it out altogether, as utterly 
 unworthy of a moment s consideration, where a fellow-crea- 
 trial for his life, for the highest offence of 
 which a subject can be accused. The evidence of & parti- 
 ceps criminis is always to be received with the greatest 
 caution, and never to be believed but where it is confirmed. 
 This is the doctrine laid down every day by the judges in 
 our courts; whilst, as to the other point, the conclusion of 
 
381 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 our own common sense is thus fortified by the very compe¬ 
 tent opinion of Mr. Van Cooten, a planter of Demerara, 
 and attorney to the estate on which Mr. Smith resided. 
 
 “ How many years have you been in this country?—These fifty 
 years past; it was fifty years last February. 
 
 “ How much of that time have you been in the habit of observing 
 the character of negroes ?—I suppose from the beginning. 
 
 “ Are they in general capable of relating correctly any conversa¬ 
 tion that has taken place in their presence ?—I think very badly in 
 general; some of them may be more capable than others. 
 
 “ Is it customary to send negroes with verbal messages when ac¬ 
 curacy is required ?—No, it is not; at least I would not do it. 
 
 “ For what reason would you not send such messages verbally? 
 —Because I think negroes in general bad messengers; ten to one if 
 they carried it correctly.” [House of Com. Rep. p. 81, 82.] 
 
 Upon this the court interposed a question, which the pri¬ 
 soner might be obliged to them for asking; we therefore 
 readily give it with its answer. 
 
 “ (Question by the Court.) —In your judgment, would not any 
 negro remember the substance of a conversation about a revolt, or 
 the soldiers being more strong than them if they revolted ?—I think 
 they might.” [Ib. p. 82.] 
 
 Be it so, we would add. If then any thing was said about 
 soldiers and revolting, the four other negroes present with 
 Bristol would have remembered it as accurately as he did, 
 yet not only do they omit all mention of it in their account 
 of the conversation, but whenever their attention was ex¬ 
 pressly called to it, unequivocally deny having heard any 
 thing upon the subject. The conclusion, therefore, is irre¬ 
 sistible, that no such thing was ever said, though we believe 
 it to be a fiction of deeper brains than the slave who swore 
 to it, abundant as was his temptation to attempt to with¬ 
 draw his own neck from the halter, by placing his bene¬ 
 factor’s there in its stead. We quit, however, such mise¬ 
 rable evidence with the remark, that although the whole of 
 the witnesses called to relate this conversation, were impli¬ 
 cated in the revolt, and therefore accomplices with the 
 accused, had he been guilty of the crime laid to his charge, 
 they are obviously entitled to double the credit whilst 
 speaking in his behalf, as they could claim when swearing 
 for the other side, since their interest was diametrically 
 opposite to the tenor of their depositions. 
 
 Having thus disposed of the proof of a guilty and con¬ 
 cealed knowledge of the revolt on the part of Mr. Smith, 
 on which the prosecutor mainly relied, w r e pass to that 
 
382 . Review. —Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 attempted to be extracted from a letter written on the very 
 evening of the insurrection, to Jackey Reed, a negro attend-’ 
 ant at his chapel from a neighbouring estate, in answer to one 
 received from him, with an enclosure from Quamina’s son, 
 both of which he immediately destroyed. The contents of 
 them were, however, thus given by Jackey, from recollec¬ 
 tion, though no one can put much faith in their accuracy, 
 when reminded, that these memoriter copies were not made 
 until the originals had been destroyed at least two months. 
 
 “ I recollect the contents of the letter I received from Jack Glad¬ 
 stone, which I sent to the parson: viz. ‘ My dear brother Jackey, l 
 hope you are well, and I write to you concerning our agreement 
 last Sunday; I hope you will do according to your promise ; this 
 letter is written by Jack Gladstone, and the rest of the brethren of 
 Bethel chapel, and all the rest of the brothers are ready, and put 
 their trust in you, and we hope that you will be ready also; we hope 
 there will be no disappointment, either one way or the other; we 
 shall begin to-morrow night, at the Thomas, about seven o’clock.’ 
 There was no name at the bottom. I will tell you, as near as I can 
 recollect, the contents of the letter I wrote to the prisoner; I said, 
 
 * Dear sir, excuse the liberty I take in writing to you; I hope this 
 letter may find yourself and Mrs. Smith well. Jack Gladstone has 
 sent me a letter, which appears as if I had made an agreement upon 
 some actions, which I never did; neither did I promise him any thing, 
 and I hope that you will see to it, and inquire of members, whatever 
 it is they may have in view, which I am ignorant of, and to inquire 
 after it, and know what it is. The time is determined on for seven 
 o’clock to-night.’ My name was at the bottom of it. I gave my 
 master a copy of it from memory.” [Ib. p. 42.] 
 
 The answer of Mr. Smith was as follows :— 
 
 “ * To Jackey Reed. I am ignorant of the affair you allude to, 
 and your note is too late for me to make any inquiry. I learnt yes¬ 
 terday that some scheme was in agitation, but without asking any 
 questions on the subject, I begged them to be quiet, and I trust they 
 will; hasty, violent, or concerted measures, are quite contrary to 
 the religion we profess, and I hope you will have nothing to do 
 with them. Your’s, for Christ’s sake, J. S.” [Ibid.] 
 
 Now these notes prove, in the first place, that the general 
 conduct of Mr. Smith amongst his flock, instead of being 
 such as to foment dissatisfaction, was of so contrary a ten¬ 
 dency, that he was the first person to whom one of their 
 number communicated the knowledge he had obtained of 
 some combination among the slaves, with a view to his in¬ 
 vestigating into its nature,and using his influence in preventing 
 any evil consequences from it. Secondly, it shews that all 
 
363 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 the information he had previously obtained on the Sunday, 
 was of some scheme in agitation among the slaves, but that 
 he was perfectly unacquainted with its particulars, and 
 could not, therefore, know that it had any thing in it unlaw¬ 
 ful, or dangerous to the state. Thirdly, that he had then 
 begged the negroes to be quiet, and had every confidence 
 that his exhortation would be attended to; and lastly, that 
 so far from encouraging them in any acts of violence, or the 
 concerting any measures to obtain their rights, or redress 
 their wrongs, be they real or imaginary, he expressly de¬ 
 clared, in a private communication to one of the negro 
 attendants upon his ministry, that such proceedings were 
 quite contrary to the Christian religion, and therefore urged 
 him to have nothing to do with them. 
 
 The note from Jackey was not received until about six 
 o’clock, too late certainly to institute any inquiry into the 
 motives and intentions of the negroes, then dispersed over 
 the plantation; and intending, according to the letter, to 
 begin their operations, whatever they were, four miles from 
 Mr. Smith’s residence. He therefore wrote his answer in pen¬ 
 cil, it being too dark to mend a pen; and ere he and his wife 
 could proceed more than 70 or 80 roods up the middle- 
 walk, consulting what had best be done, a tumult of the 
 negroes at the manager’s house, convinced them; that a 
 disturbance had begun. Of any knowledge of the intention 
 of the negroes to make that disturbance, still less to follow 
 it up by a revolt, the whole evidence, which we have care¬ 
 fully examined, clearly proves Mr. Smith to have been des¬ 
 titute ; and had he suspected any violence to be in contem¬ 
 plation, he must surely have taken leave of his senses before 
 he could not only have gone himself, but have conducted his 
 wife towards that very spot where it is alleged that he knew 
 a treasonable plot had been formed the day before, and at 
 the very hour too which he had just learned to have been 
 fixed upon by the negroes for some meeting, which he might 
 fairly presume to be for deliberation and confederacy only. 
 
 That he could have had no knowledge of the intended rising, 
 must surely be evident to every one who has examined, with us, 
 the evidence adduced to prove this miserable case, which im¬ 
 putes it to him. To bolster it up, however, two servants, the 
 one coachman in the service of the president of the court-mar¬ 
 tial, the other out of place, but formerly in the employ of the 
 storekeeper of the ordnance, were called, to prove a sort of 
 confession by the prisoner of his previous knowledge of 
 the insurrection, a week after it had taken place; but inde- 
 
384 
 
 Iievieio.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 pendent of the palpable absurdity of a gentleman of Mr. 
 Smith’s habits and profession selecting two men in livery 
 as his confederates, and that too, whilst they had been 
 invited into his house for shelter, on meeting with a delay 
 in the conveyance of troops to quell this insurrection, they 
 so flatly contradict each other, as to the only material point 
 of their evidence, that it comes to nothing. The first states, 
 that Mr. Smith said he knew about this rising for six weeks 
 before it took place, and swears positively to the word 
 knew having been used, which the other as directly nega¬ 
 tives, and swears as distinctly, that what Mr. Smith said 
 was, “ This is a thing which has been expected these six 
 weeksand there is no doubt but that some violent resent¬ 
 ment of the delay which had taken place in publishing the 
 order of government, about which the slaves were so anxious, 
 yet so completely in the dark, was, and had for some time 
 been, a matter of general expectation throughout the colony. 
 
 Another still more desperate and contemptible effort at 
 proving a confession, was made, by calling lieutenant-colonel 
 Reed, a planter on the East Coast, and aid-de-camp to the 
 commander-in-chief and governor of the island, to narrate a 
 conversation between him and the prisoner, then not only in 
 custody, but having been for three or four days upon his 
 trial, which could only have been entered into for the pur¬ 
 pose of entrapping him into some declaration which might 
 be given in evidence against him. Yet the result of this 
 performance of the part of a thief-taker’s retainer, by the 
 gallant officer, is, like all the other violations of justice and 
 law, and decorum, so disgracefully resorted to on the pre¬ 
 sent occasion, beneficial to the very man whom it was in¬ 
 tended to destroy, as our readers may learn from the evi¬ 
 dence itself:— 
 
 “ Did any thing pass, between the prisoner and yourself, con¬ 
 cerning the revolt?—Yes. I said to the prisoner, I am afraid you 
 have been preaching very improper doctrine to the negroes, as, it 
 appears, the principal members of your chapel have been leaders 
 in this insurrection; to this he replied, when I have been preach¬ 
 ing, I have sometimes wished to illustrate what I was saying, by 
 reference to the situation of a manager or overseer of an estate; 
 and, when I have finished my discourse, I have asked some of the 
 most intelligent of my hearers to explain what I have been saying, 
 and they have told me that I have been abusing the manager and 
 overseer. The prisoner then observed, that this was not the first 
 insurrection that had taken place in the colony. I said, it was an 
 insurrection of a peculiar nature. He then remarked, that much 
 
Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 385 
 
 blood had been shed at different periods in religious wars, or words 
 to that effect. 
 
 “ Where was Mr. Smith at this time?—In the room in this house 
 where he is confined. 
 
 “ (Cross-examined by the Prisoner .)—Did not I tell you, what 
 you have said concerning my illustrating my remarks, by reference 
 to the situation of a manager, or overseer, of au estate, and my 
 having asked the negroes, afterwards, what I had said, and their 
 saying that I had abused the managers, as an instance of the apt¬ 
 ness of negroes to misunderstand all that is said to them ?—It did 
 appear to me, that the prisoner wished to impress upon my mind, 
 that if the negroes had acted rebelliously, they must have mis¬ 
 understood his doctrine.” [Missionary Society’s Rep. p. 50.] 
 
 But we have not quite done with Colonel Reed, whose 
 eagerness to procure evidence to convict Mr. Smith, even 
 by means to which none but the lowest of those wretched 
 beings, who get a miserable pittance by regularly bearing 
 witness, true or false, against their neighbours, could con¬ 
 sistently resort,may serve as a specimen of the justice he 
 was likelv to meet with from the planters of Demerara. lie 
 figures again upon this trial, as a witness, called by the 
 prisoner, to prove his free grant of land to build a chapel 
 upon; and, as such, is obliged to admit his own letter, not 
 only offering the land which Mr. Smith had expressed a 
 wish to purchase, but the aid of his subscription towards 
 building the chapel, and any other assistance in his power 
 to render, provided, amongst other conditions, that the leave 
 of the governor could be obtained. Yet he swears, after crav¬ 
 ing of the court ten minutes’ indulgence to recollect himself, 
 which of course w T as readily granted, that to obtain per¬ 
 mission for the erection of this chapel, Mr. Smith had in¬ 
 truded himself at his domestic board, and even at his sick 
 bed-side; though he afterwards admits, that this intru¬ 
 sion consisted in his having himself invited this reverend 
 gentleman to breakfast, as he met him on his way 
 to treat for the land—in his having three or four times 
 visited at his house, once with Mrs. Smith, and always 
 under circumstances which w'ould have prevented his deem¬ 
 ing his visits intrusions, but from his subsequent conduct, 
 i. e. we presume from his having fallen under the displeasure 
 of the governor, to whom Mr. Reed is an aid-de-camp, we 
 know not of how recent appointment, and of whom he had 
 previously stated to Mr. Smith, that he was not understood 
 to be very favourable to his object, as he thought that the 
 negroes had too much light. The latter statement is made 
 indeed by Mr. Smith only, Colonel Reed’s recollection very 
 
386 
 
 Review.— Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 conveniently refusing to serve him as to the conversation 
 which passed upon the subject, though he did distinctly re¬ 
 collect that Mr. Smith intruded himself at his sick bed¬ 
 side, where, however, he was afterwards compelled to admit 
 he never came without having been invited. And this is 
 Demerara intrusion—this a specimen of the manner in 
 which the gentlemen and military officers of rank, in that 
 colony, give their evidence, from which we may turn, with¬ 
 out any feelings of surprise, to the contradictions and the 
 perjuries of its livery servants and its slaves. We turn, how¬ 
 ever, with more satisfaction, to the close of our examination 
 of that part of the charges against Mr. Smith, which imputes 
 to him a knowledge of the intended insurrection, on the 17th 
 of August, and a guilty concealment of such knowledge 
 from the proper authorities. That he had no such know¬ 
 ledge, is distinctly proved by the witnesses for the prosecu¬ 
 tion ; and his letter to Jackey Reed, which they produced as 
 evidence of his guilt, shews, that he had it not down to 
 the very moment of the insurrection breaking out. He 
 could not, therefore, have communicated what he did not 
 know for twelve hours after, when it was known to every 
 one, at the visit which he is proved to have paid at an early 
 hour on Monday morning, to his physician at George-town, 
 to whom he went for advice on the state of his health ; yet his 
 not having then made a communication of this plot to the 
 governor, is matter of serious accusation against him upon 
 the present charge. It is worthy of remark also, that if 
 Jackey Reed’s recollection is correct, in the copy of Jack 
 Gladstone’s letter with which he furnished his master, the 
 gallant colonel of the same name, the insurrection was 
 planned on the Sunday week before it broke out; yet with 
 all the advantages which they possessed over their con- 
 spirator-wdtnesses, by having their necks in the noose, in 
 which some of them have since been hung, the counsel for 
 the prosecution could not give any evidence, even of the 
 very lame, contradictory, and incredible nature, with that 
 which they did produce, of his acquaintance with the plot, or 
 any hint of one being in agitation, until the afternoon of the 
 following sabbath-day. Yet surely our common sense must 
 teach us, that if, as the prosecutor charged, Mr. Smith was 
 the inventor, or at least the encourager of this revolt, the 
 slaves engaged in it must have communicated their plans to 
 him, or, at any rate, would not have expressed any ap¬ 
 prehension of his disapproving their conduct in forming 
 or pursuing* them. The whole evidence, however, shews 
 
387 
 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, ^Missionary. 
 
 directly the reverse to have been the case, that they were 
 
 fearful of his knowing what they were intending, and rather 
 
 than coming to consult him, that they studiously kept out 
 
 of his way. Of this we have had abundant proofs in the 
 
 following testimony adduced agains thim, which has already 
 
 been examined; we add therefore but a sentence from the 
 
 evidence of „ 
 
 Romeo. 
 
 “ I saw Mr. Smith, in his own house, after church, on that Sun¬ 
 day : I cannot recollect I saw him on Monday. I saw him on 
 Tuesday. In the evening I went to visit him, seeing the negroes 
 made such a great noise, as my heart was uneasy: I bid the pri¬ 
 soner good night, and he answered me good night: he then asked 
 me if I had seen Quamina or Bristol? I replied no: he made 
 answer, that they were afraid to come to me now : he said further, 
 I wish I could see any one of them.” [House of Commons, p. 15.] 
 
 Afraid—afraid, we cannot but ask, of what? but that he 
 would at least condemn their measures, and probably deli¬ 
 ver them up to justice. To such justice as negro-slaves 
 were to expect, for opposing the authority of their masters 
 and owners, the planters of the colony of Demerara, he was 
 not, however, either as a man, a subject, or a Christian, 
 required to hand over the members of his flock, on any vague, 
 or even well-grounded suspicion only, that they were medi¬ 
 tating some combined proceedings for obtaining a know¬ 
 ledge of certain directions from government for their relief, 
 with which they ought long since not only to have been 
 made acquainted, but familiar in practice, with the compa¬ 
 ratively slight mitigations of the sufferings of their wretched 
 lot, which it peremptorily directed their owners to allow, 
 though the governor most improperly withheld it. By 
 exerting himself to the utmost, to persuade them to wait 
 patiently their announcement, as he is proved on all hands 
 to have done, he better fulfilled all the duties which devolved 
 upon him, in the absence of a knowledge of any intended 
 violence, in the midst of which, had he been aware of it, he 
 would never have left his wife, in such a state of uncertainty 
 and suspense, as to be unable to sleep from apprehensions 
 for his life and her own, as soon as the insurrection had 
 begun. He did, too, his utmost to quell it, save that he 
 did not obey, so readily as was wished, the peremptory order 
 of his old enemy Me Turk, to take up arms for its suppres¬ 
 sion, or that ignorance of law which seems to be universal 
 in Demerara, supposing, that as a minister of the gospel, he 
 was as exempt from bearing arms after martial-law had been 
 proclaimed, as he was before it. For this offence, and not 
 
388 
 
 Review.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 for any share in the rebellion, was he originally taken into 
 custody, periculo pradicti Mac Turki; and a iong history 
 of his contumelious opposition to the authority of this 
 burgher-captain, doctor, and captain of militia, is given in 
 evidence, on charges with which it had not the slightest con¬ 
 nexion. We therefore leave it with this remark, that had it 
 been a relevant matter of inquiry before this court-martial, 
 all the offence proved was, an error in judgment, and mistake 
 in point of law, into which Mr. Smith was led by the over¬ 
 sight of the conductors of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, (to 
 which he referred,) in not informing us, under the head of 
 Martial-law, that its proclamation suspended all law, but 
 that of the sword, and the happy privilege of being tried by 
 so impartial and competent a tribunal as that which sen¬ 
 tenced Mr. Smith to death, and of being dragged out of bed 
 to mount guard, or shoot rebels, at the good will and plea¬ 
 sure, and under the able direction, of some such accom¬ 
 plished commander of militia as captain Me Turk. 
 
 But wasting no more words upon this medico-military 
 hero, we finally observe, upon this charge of abetting and 
 wilfully concealing, on the 17th and 18th of August, an insur¬ 
 rection which broke out on the latter day, that, could it have 
 been proved as clearly as it was disproved, the court which 
 triedit had no jurisdiction over it, inasmuch as martial-law 
 was not proclaimed until the 19th; and, until it was pro¬ 
 claimed, no man could be guilty of an offence against its pro¬ 
 visions ; nor has it any retrospective cognizance of offences 
 previously committed. 
 
 We pass on now to the last charge, which is in substance, 
 that Mr. Smith, after the commencement of the revolt, did, 
 on Tuesday the 19th and Wednesday the 20th of August, 
 advise, consult, and correspond with Quamina, touching the 
 same; that he then held communication with the said Qua¬ 
 mina, well knowing him to have been engaged in such re¬ 
 volt, and that he did not then use his utmost endeavours to 
 secure or detain him, but, on the contrary, permitted him to 
 go at large. Of these charges we shall dispose very sum¬ 
 marily, the ground for doing so having been sufficiently 
 established in the preceding part of our inquiry, to demand 
 but the addition of a few words, applying more to the law 
 than the facts of the case. Upon the latter, however, we 
 shall offer an observation or two.—Borneo is the first wit¬ 
 ness who speaks to this point. His evidence is as follows; 
 
 I saw Mr. Smith after church on the Sunday, in his own house; 
 
 I cannot recollect I saw ‘him on Monday; I saw him on Tuesday, 
 
Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 389 
 
 I went in the evening to visit him; seeing the negroes were making 
 great noise, and my heart was uneasy, I bid him good night, and he 
 answered me good night, and asked me if I had seen Quamina or 
 Bristol; I replied, No; he made answer, they are afraid to come to 
 me now, and said, I wish 1 could see any one of them. 
 
 Now, taking this evidence to be correct, it proves but that 
 Mr. Smith, the pastor of the negro congregation, at Le 
 Resouvenir, on the day after a sudden revolt of the negroes 
 of that estate, expressed to one of them a wish to see two 
 of his deacons, who with the rest had tumultuously left 
 their work ; accompanying that wish by a declaration that 
 they would now be afraid to see him, no doubt, from an ap¬ 
 prehension of his anger at the steps they had taken, and 
 which it is fairly to be presumed, that he wished to persuade 
 them, as far as possible, to retrace. At all events, there 
 was nothing either unnatural or wrong in his wish to see 
 these men, that he might learn from them the real nature 
 and object of proceedings, which it is manifest that he ut¬ 
 terly condemned. But two of the witnesses whom he 
 called, who were in his house at the time, swore that there 
 w as no noise upon the estate that evening. The probability, 
 therefore, is, that Romeo was mistaken as to the night, 
 speaking, as he did, to a recollection of two months, and 
 that if this wish was ever expressed by Mr. Smith, it wms 
 on the Monday evening, after he and Mrs. Smith suddenly 
 found themselves in the midst of the insurgent negroes, 
 surrounding the house of Mr. Hamilton, the manager, where 
 he saw Quamina and Bristol, and might therefore very na¬ 
 turally wish for an opportunity of learning from them what 
 this disturbance was about. It is perfectly immaterial, how¬ 
 ever, to the establishment of Mr. Smith’s innocence of any 
 illegal communication with Quamina, whether this witness 
 wa^ accurate, or no, as to the day on which a conversation 
 took place, indicative of a wish, harmless in itself, most 
 probably indeed, intended to further the restoration of order, 
 but which, as far as he knew, w-as never carried into effect. 
 If he rightly remembered the day, his evidence altoge¬ 
 ther neutralizes that of Mitchell, the negro groom of the 
 estate, who swears to seeing Quamina go into Mr. Smith’s 
 yard, on the morning of that very Tuesday, and, as he con 
 eluded, to see Mr. Smith, though this he could not have 
 done, if Romeo’s account of that gentleman’s anxiety to see 
 him or Bristol, on the Tuesday night, was correct. On this 
 evidence we shall do little more than transcribe the very 
 pertinent remarks made by Mr. Smith in his defence:— 
 
390 
 
 Review.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 “The boy Mitchell is of notorious bad character, and 1 verily be¬ 
 lieve his testimony is altogether false; he does not understand the 
 sacred obligation of an oath , and if he did, what does his evidence 
 amount to ? that he saw Quamina come into my yard on Tuesday 
 morning, in open daylight, when the sun was high. I do not be¬ 
 lieve the boy, and I must solemnly declare, I never saw Quamina 
 on the Tuesday morning; he may have gone into the yard, or he 
 may not; I never saw him, nor had I ever any direct or indirect 
 knowledge of his being there, until I heard the evidence of Mitchell 
 in court.” [Missionary Society’s Rep. p. 88.] 
 
 This , we are aware, is a mere statement, yet, were it neces¬ 
 sary to do so, we should not hesitate to ask our readers to 
 credit it, in preference to the oath of an ignorant negro, with¬ 
 out any notion of religion, or of the obligation to veracity 
 under which he spoke. But in truth it signifies nothing 
 whether he swore truly or not, as all he proves is, seeing 
 Quamina go into the yard of the house without ever 
 bringing him in company with Mr. Smith. As to the meet¬ 
 ing on the Wednesday, it is distinctly proved, that on the 
 Tuesday about noon, Mrs. Smith sent for a female slave to 
 ask her what the people were doing, a plain proof that she 
 herself knew nothing of the object of their insurrection, the 
 day after she and her husband had together accidentally 
 witnessed its first movement of insubordination; and a pre¬ 
 sumption also so strong, as almost to amount to demonstra¬ 
 tion of the like ignorance on the part of her husband, who, had 
 he been in the secret, could not have failed partially commu¬ 
 nicating it to her, to allay those fears, which, during the whole 
 of the preceding night, had been so strong as to prevent 
 her getting any sleep. In this state of alarm, she expressed 
 a very natural wish to see Quamina or Bristol, the two ne¬ 
 groes whom she best knew, with a view, no doubt, of ascer¬ 
 taining from them what was the nature of their proceedings, 
 and the danger to which the white population would there¬ 
 by be exposed. The witness, who was herself also much 
 alarmed, sent for Quamina, who came in the evening to her 
 house; and on his despatching her, to see if any one was at 
 Mr. Smith’s, when she found a woman of colour there, who 
 had come to the house for protection, IVtrs. Smith desired 
 her to take her out of the way, but did so in a low tone of 
 voice, or whisper, so that Mr. Smith could not possibly hear 
 what was said, though he was in the room; from which it is 
 manifest, that the sending for Quamina was an act of Mrs. 
 Smith s, done without his knowledge, and apparently studi¬ 
 ously concealed from him. What took place when he did 
 
391 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 come, could not be proved in evidence, as Mrs. Smith was 
 the only person present, and although her acts, and even her 
 declarations in his absence, were most illegally given and 
 admitted in evidence against him, her testimony in his 
 favour could not be received. We can only, therefore, give 
 his own statement of the transaction, which agrees altoge¬ 
 ther with the probabilities of the case, and the general tenor 
 of the evidence against him. 
 
 “ It has not been proved that Quamina was a rebel; if he was, I 
 did not know of it. I did not send for him, nor did I know any 
 thing of his arrival. I gave him no communcation touching and 
 concerning the revolt, for I had nothing to communicate; and if I 
 had, still I would not have done any thing so improper; it was not 
 until I asked him where he had come from, that even his manner 
 became changed, and without answering me, he suddenly turned 
 round and went away. Mrs. Smith was the only person present, 
 and if the Court could admit her testimony, she could explain the 
 whole. One of the facts which appear to militate against me, I 
 think I can prove is incorrect, viz. that Mrs. Smith shut the door. 
 
 I can do this, because I have a witness. With regard to the other 
 two points, I could explain them also, had I any other witness than 
 Mrs. Smith to support my statement.” [House of Com. Rep. p. 77.] 
 
 The shutting of the door is accordingly contradicted by 
 the servant of Mrs. Smith, who also incidentally furnishes 
 this strong collateral proof of her husband’s ignorance of the 
 intended insurrection or its objects, that when she came 
 home from the house of Mr. Stewart the manager, where 
 she and her husband fell in with the negroes just as they 
 had risen, she was alarmed and in tears. She also proves, 
 that their conversation was not such as would have been 
 held by conspirators, or even of a secret nature, as both Mr. 
 Smith and Quamina talked so loud, that she heard them in 
 the kitchen, which is an out-house, at least 20 paces from 
 the hall where Mr. Smith was sitting. The only other facts 
 connected with this interview, are, that the same servant (a 
 little girl who did not know her age) swore that Mrs. Smith 
 afterwards threatened to lick her, if she told any one that 
 Quamina had been there, a thing not very probable in it¬ 
 self, and if true, not in the least criminating Mr. Smith, who 
 could not in law be criminally answerable for the actions of 
 his wife; and that when Quamina left the house, he had 
 with him a bottle, which he said contained porter, and 
 which it is inferred, and not unnaturally we admit, that he 
 got at Mr. Smith’s, though from whom does not appear; 
 most likely from Mrs. Smith, or one of the negro servants, 
 
392 
 
 Review.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 and of all persons in the house, least probably from him. 
 The present was, however, of so trifling a nature, and so 
 utterly unconnected with any ideas of furthering the objects 
 of the insurrection, that it is immaterial from whom this 
 bottle was received. 
 
 We pass on, therefore, to the law of the case, which is as 
 decidedly in favour of the accused, as are the facts proved, 
 or fairly presumable, destitute of all legal evidence of any 
 thing approximating to a criminal communication with Qua- 
 mina, which, if ever so distinctly proved, falls entirely to the 
 ground, unless it could be shewn that such communication 
 was for the purpose of aiding and abetting him in his trea¬ 
 son, or of supporting and maintaining him after his guilt as 
 a traitor was clearly known. Nor could any one, by the 
 English law, be indicted as a principal in treason, in this 
 secondary degree, where the principal in the first degree, or 
 actual traitor himself, has not previously been legally con¬ 
 victed. We object, then, on the authority of all the text- 
 writers on our law, to any proof of a receipt and comforting 
 of this traitor by Mr. Smith, because, Quamina never was 
 legally convicted of treason, having been summarily shot 
 in the woods, without ever being brought to trial. But, 
 even admitting that he was engaged in planning this very 
 insurrection, is there any proof that Mr. Smith knew him to 
 have been so, save what the testimony of Bristol, w ith re¬ 
 spect to the soldiers, furnishes, and that, we have already 
 shewn, cannot be entitled to belief. Manuel and the other 
 negroes, as we have before remarked, rather proved him to 
 have sustained, in all his communications with Mr. Smith, 
 the character of a man anxious to restrain his hot-headed 
 son, and other slaves of a like ardent spirit, from outrage. 
 Hence, after the insurrection had broke out, he might natu¬ 
 rally, and not only allowably, but praiseworthily, have 
 wished to see Quauiina, and even sent for him, (as he did 
 not, and is not proved to have done,) in order to avail 
 himself of the disposition, which his deacon had previously 
 manifested, to bring the revolters back to the path of duty 
 and submission. But we will go further, and maintain that 
 the latter is not proved to have been a traitor,engaged in this 
 revolt, for no man can say, that such proof is afforded by 
 evidence like the following, from his alleged accomplice 
 Bristol. 
 
 “ The revolt began at Success. I know Quamina, of Success; 
 he was engaged in that revolt, because I beard they took him up 
 before the revolt began. Jack and Paris were the leaders of the 
 
Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 393 
 
 revolt; they said they would go on with it, and then did so.” 
 [Ib. p. 21.] 
 
 The account of his conduct given by another of the insur¬ 
 gents, Seaton, tallies precisely with the previous represen¬ 
 tation of Manuel. 
 
 u After Quamina came to the meeting, did you make any agree¬ 
 ment as to the rising?—It was made before. 
 
 “ Did Quamina join in that agreement when he first came to the 
 middle walk?—No. 
 
 “Why did he refuse?—He said Mr. Smith told him he must not 
 rise.” 
 
 “Did he afterwards agree?—After the people heard what Qua¬ 
 mina said, they would not agree. 
 
 “Did the people then persist in their intention to rise?—Yes. 
 
 “How long did the meeting last?—A quarter of an hour. 
 
 “Had Quamina any hand in the revolt?—He did not rise before 
 he was taken up, but did afterwards.” [Missionary Society’s Rep. 
 p. 44.] 
 
 These two pieces of evidence coupled together, would 
 naturally conduct us to the conclusion, that Quamina, 
 though aware of the intention of his son and others to take 
 some violent measures for the attainment of what they con¬ 
 sidered their new rights, was not an original ringleader in 
 them, or if he w as, become anxious to prevent their adoption, 
 from his knowledge of Mr. Smith’s decided condemnation 
 of every thing of the kind ; and that after his conversations 
 with him on the Sunday he was particularly desirous to 
 persuade his fellow slaves to listen to his good advice ; 
 though after his son and he were taken, and not till then, 
 he did actually join the revolters. His disposition to put a 
 stop to any violent proceeding, is still further manifested 
 by the following extract from Seaton’s evidence of a decla¬ 
 ration of Quamina’s, (which was no evidence by the way at 
 all against the prisoner,) on going to Mr. Smith’s a second 
 time on the same day. 
 
 “ What did Quamina go to Mr. Smith’s for, the second time?— 
 He did not tell me properly ; but he told me on the way, that he 
 did not know what to say to Goodluck to stop him from going on; 
 and that if he could get any person that same night, he would send 
 to Jack, to stop the people over the coast.” [Ibid. p. 44.] 
 
 But a still stronger corroboration of the correctness of 
 this view of Quamina’s conduct, is afforded by the evidence 
 of Mr. Stewart, the manager of the Success estate, who 
 very distinctly declares, that, whilst all the other negroes 
 
394 
 
 Revieiv.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 named were most active in the attack upon his house to 
 obtain arms, Quamina was not only doing no harm that he 
 saw, but was engaged in keeping the rest back, and prevent¬ 
 ing them from doing him any injury. From the whole of 
 his conduct, therefore, from the beginning to the end of this 
 disturbance, it is manifest that Mr. Smith had every reason 
 to believe Quamina at the very most an unwilling actor in 
 it, and therefore a person most likely to use his influence 
 and exertions for the restoration of order. Every thing 
 negatives his knowledge of his being a leader of the re¬ 
 bellion, or even a rebel—every thing disproves his abetting 
 him in or approving of this rebellion—every thing in fact 
 tends to shew his ignorance, moral as well as legal, of abet¬ 
 ting, harbouring, supporting, or wilfully neglecting to secure 
 a man whom he knew to have been a traitor, and to whom 
 he might have rendered all those services, without subject¬ 
 ing himself to any punishment for the misprision of treason 
 with which he was charged, as the treason of Quamina was 
 never proved. Upon this point, we prefer, however, giving 
 the authority of Lord Hale, as very properly (though to such 
 a court ineffectually) quoted by Mr. Smith in his defence, 
 to our own. 
 
 “ It is not shewn that Quamina was a rebel. Some questions 
 have been asked, and answers given, to shew that Quamina was 
 engaged in the revolt; but this is not sufficient; it ought to have 
 been shewn that he had been convicted as such. It is laid down in 
 Hale s Pleas of the Crown, 234, That if a person be arrested for 
 treason, he that rescues him is guilty of treason;” but according 
 to the same author, 235, “ this case is not at all now in force , nor 
 binding. That therefore at this day, if one be committed for sus¬ 
 picion of treason, and another break gaol to let him out, yet unless 
 the party imprisoned were really a traitor, this is no treason at this 
 day. The same author, in page 237, says, “ He that rescueth a 
 person imprisoned for treason, or suffers him voluntarily to escape, 
 shall not be arraigned for that offence till the principal offender be con¬ 
 victed of that offence; for if he be acquitted of the principal offence, 
 the gaoler that suffered the escape, and he that made the rescue, 
 shall be discharged; and the reason is, because, though rescuing a 
 person charged with treason, or suffering him wilfully to escape, be 
 a great misdemeanour, yet it is not treason, unless in truth and 
 reality he was a traitor; for a man may be arrested or unprisoned 
 under a charge of treason , and yet be no traitor again, in page 238, 
 and though the receiver of a traitor knowingly , be a principal 
 traitor, and shall not be said an accessary, yet this much he par¬ 
 takes of an accessary. 
 
 That if he be indicted by a several indictment, he shall not be 
 
395 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 tried till the principal be convicted , upon the reason of the gaoler 
 and the rescuer before given, for the principal may be acquitted, 
 and then he is discharged of the crime of receipt of him. If he be 
 indicted specially of the receipt, in the same indictment with the 
 principal offender, as he may be, yet the Jury must first be charged 
 to inquire of the principal offender ; and if they find him guilty, then 
 to inquire of the receipt; and if the principal be not guilty, then to 
 acquit both; and accordingly it was ruled in Arden’s case (G.) For 
 though in law they be both principals in treason, and possibly pro¬ 
 cess of outlawry may go against him that receives, at the same time 
 as against him that did the fact, and though the principal appear, 
 process may go on against the other, yet in truth he is thus far an 
 accessary, that he cannot be guilty if the principal be innocent .’ ” 
 [House of Com. Rep. pp. 75, 76.] 
 
 Upon the defence whence this extract is taken, we had 
 intended to have made some comments, but our limits have 
 been so very far exceeded, by shewing, from the prosecutor’s 
 own case, that, to use a phrase proverbial in our courts, it 
 had not a leg to stand upon, that we can say no more, than 
 that it was temperate, judicious, and able; though, had it been 
 made by counsel, several contradictions omitted, and to 
 which we have directed the atttention of our readers, as we 
 went on, and many other objections to the legality of the 
 proceedings, might have been taken, and before any court 
 of justice, properly so called, must have prevailed. 
 
 The most material parts of the evidence adduced by the 
 prisoner, in contradiction of that given against him, have 
 already been extracted and commented upon. We can only 
 therefore state in a word, that he proved in addition, from 
 the testimonies of planters themselves, that the negroes who 
 attended his chapel, had behaved better in consequence of 
 doing so, and particularly, that they were more obedient 
 than formerly; that the overseers and agents of those plan¬ 
 ters, some of whom subscribed towards the chapel, at which 
 they occasionally attended, and to the society to which it 
 belonged, were in the habit of sending to him, to settle dis¬ 
 putes among their slaves, and to punish them as he thought 
 proper, as a minister, for their immoral conduct; and, that so 
 far from encouraging them to run away, he had caused them 
 to be sent back to their masters when they had done so. It 
 was also shewn, that the intention to revolt on Monday 
 night, was known to captains Me Turk, and Simpson, and 
 to the manager of the Success estate, two, four, and even 
 six hours before it was made known to Mr. Smith that any 
 proceedings were to be taken on that evening, by the letter 
 
 VOL. VIII.—no. 3. 2 E 
 
396 
 
 Review.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 of Jackey Reed, yet they gave him no information on the 
 subject; whilst so far was he from concealing his knowledge 
 of the negroes, and amongst them Quamina in particular, 
 having formed erroneous expectations of freedom, from the 
 orders lately come from England, that three weeks before 
 the insurrection broke out, he mentioned the circumstance 
 of their applications to him upon the subject to more than 
 one person concerned in the management of plantations, and 
 who were officers also in the colonial militia, expressing at 
 the same time his wish to undeceive them from the pulpit, 
 which he only refrained from doing at their suggestion, that it 
 might give offence to the ruling powers. He proved also, 
 that after the insurrection had broke out, and he was acci¬ 
 dentally thrown, with his wife, (no fit companion, sure, in 
 such a scene, had he been aware of it,) into the very midst 
 of its tumultuary movements, he did every thing he could to 
 dissuade the rioters from their purposes ; and that his name 
 was never mentioned by any of them, as encouraging their 
 insurrection, or in any way connected with it. This was so 
 particularly spoken to by that highly respectable minister 
 Mr. Austin, the chaplain to the colony, who, for the can¬ 
 dour and liberality with which he gave his testimony on 
 this occasion, has become as obnoxous to the tyrannical 
 planters of Demerara as was Mr. Smith, to whose intended 
 fate, indeed, they do not very obliquely commend him,— 
 that we cannot avoid giving his very words. 
 
 “ On Wednesday morning, about six o’clock, I disembarked in a 
 schooner, on the coast opposite, or nearly opposite, Plantation Low¬ 
 lands ; I was on my way to Haslington. I met a great number of 
 the insurgents; they were induced to come to me, principally, I 
 believe, by their ascertaining who I was. I reasoned with one or 
 two of the more intelligent, stating, that I was shocked at what had 
 occurred, and came up the coast with a view of preserving the lives 
 of my fellow-creatures. I was anxious to ascertain the cause of 
 such extraordinary conduct, and was particular and minute in my 
 inquiries. I had received an impression, that the prisoner, Mr. 
 Smith, was highly instrumental to the insurrection, and proceeded 
 to inquiries. A variety of reasons were given, which I do not con¬ 
 sider necessary to recapitulate, farther than as they apply to the 
 prisoner. I must add, that in no one instance among my numerous 
 inquiries, did it appear, or was it stated, that Mr. Smith had been 
 in any degree instrumental to the insurrection; a hardship of being 
 restricted in attendance on his chapel, was, however, very generally 
 a burden of complaint. 
 
 “ Will you be pleased to state the other reasons; as you have 
 said the restriction from attending Mr. Smith’s chapel was one?— 
 
397 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 The inquiry was either made by me, or by some one in my presence, 
 expressing surprise that bloodshed had not marked the progress of 
 this insurrection; the answer was, ‘ It is contrary to the religion we 
 protess, we cannot give life, and therefore we would not talce it.’ ” 
 [Ibid. p. 93. 94.] 
 
 The same benevolent and excellent man gives very im¬ 
 portant evidence also, as to the real cause of the revolt, 
 shewing that, many months before, complaints had been 
 made to him by the negroes of their having been flogged 
 and otherwise punished, for attending Mr. Smith’s chapel, 
 and for reading their bibles, and that the manner in which 
 they expressed their sense of this injustice, was so strong 
 (such, for instance, as that “ an attempt was made to set 
 down their religion, but they would sooner die than give it 
 up,”) that he was so apprehensive of serious consequences, 
 as even then to have deemed it his duty to warn the 
 governor of the danger. Both he and Mr. Elliott testified 
 that the course of reading the scriptures in rotation adopted 
 by the prisoner, was the one which they pursued, the latter 
 in the morning, the former in the afternoon, the time when 
 the greatest number of slaves attend his ministry, and this 
 in imitation of the conduct of his predecessor at St. 
 George’s church. It was also in evidence, from the officer 
 of militia who arrested him, and w ho, by orders of Captain 
 Me Turk, seized all his papers, that Mr. Smith very will¬ 
 ingly permitted them to be taken, expressing his perfect 
 conviction that they would prove his innocence of any 
 crime. 
 
 Had we room, w T e should here perform our promise of 
 exposing the violence and gross injustice of the acting 
 advocate-general’s reply, which he was allowed five days 
 to prepare; but after the comments which we have already 
 made upon the evidence, it will surely be enough to say, 
 that in a speech, by fifty times longer than the opening of his 
 leader, so little does he discharge the duty which he owed 
 to the accused and to the court, as a man ought to have done 
 who was performing the part of a judge in his charge, com¬ 
 bined with those of a public prosecutor, (who should never 
 unduly press against a prisoner, but always give him every 
 benefit he can) in his reply, that, though he puts the most harsh 
 and inconsistent construction upon the conduct and the ex¬ 
 pressions of the accused, he never once admits, or even insinu¬ 
 ates, that there could be a doubt as to any thing w hich his own 
 witnesses had sworn, although the only important ones were 
 pariicipes criminis, and therefore hardly admissible witnesses, 
 
398 
 
 Review.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 but coming into court with every inducement to swear 
 falsely to save themselves, and therefore with but the 
 greatest caution to be believed when confirmed. 
 
 Having thus laid the whole of the case before our readers, 
 we doubt not that they will individually adopt with us the 
 language of Mr. Arrindell, the counsel for the accused,—“ I 
 “ do believe Mr. Smith to be innocent; nay, I will go fur- 
 “ ther, and defy any minister of any sect whatever, to have 
 “ shewn a more faithful attention to his sacred duties, than 
 “ he has been proved, by the evidence on this trial, to have 
 “ done.” We omitted an adjuration at the commencement 
 of this declaration, because, strongly as it marks the since¬ 
 rity of the opinion of him who uses it, it is at the least un¬ 
 necessary and improper here. But it is on other, and very 
 different grounds, that we also omit a further prefatory re¬ 
 mark, “ It is almost presumption in me to differ from the 
 “ sentence of a court,” because we think, with such a sen¬ 
 tence, pronounced by such a court, no man who feels as he 
 ought to do for the cause of truth and justice, and the 
 honour of his country, can agree. 
 
 That sentence was one of guilty, as our readers well know, 
 save that, as to the first charge, they very sagely convicted 
 of the facts, but acquitted of that guilty intention which 
 could alone give to those facts the character of crime. As 
 to the others, they merely made some slight alteration as to 
 the number of days on which the offences were committed, 
 and acquitted the accused of not doing his utmost to secure 
 Quamina on the Wednesday, it being too absurd even for 
 them to suppose, that a man, who but two days before had 
 been obliged to consult a physician as to the general decay 
 of his health, could, if he had been so inclined, have detained 
 a sturdy able-bodied slave, on a charge which put his life at 
 stake. 
 
 As to the gross irregularity of the proceedings of the 
 court, we have already expressed ourselves in no measured 
 terms; yet, ere we close, we will select a few of the more 
 glaring instances of its constant and unparalleled violation of 
 every notion of justice, and the most established principles 
 and ordinary forms of law. 
 
 In the first place, then, the questions were asked by the 
 judge-advocate and his assistants in the most irregular 
 manner in which it was possible to propose them; leading 
 questions being uniformly put to witnesses who appeared 
 in the character of accomplices, and who had previously 
 been examined by the very men by whom those questions 
 
399 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith, Missionary. 
 
 were put, with an ignorance of one of the first rules of their 
 profession, of which the merest tyro at quarter-sessions 
 would, on his maiden examination, be ashamed ; or, on the 
 other hand, with a hardihood and effrontery in despising 
 every principle of law or of justice, which Jeffereys himself 
 w'ould scarcely have displayed. This language may appear 
 harsh as well as bold, but it is abundantly justified by such 
 driving questions (leading is too mild a term for them) as 
 t he following: 
 
 “ If you did work in your own grounds, or went to market on 
 Sunday, did the parson reproach you for it? [Mis. Soc. Rep. p. 17] 
 
 “ Did you never hear the negroes say that something did not 
 please them ? 
 
 “ Did you never hear of this revolt a long time ago ? 
 
 “ This is not what I want; I want to know whether it is a part 
 of his duty to look after the conduct of the negroes upon other 
 estates, and to report it to Mr. Smith ?” [Ib. p. 20.] 
 
 “ Did the deacons have signs to know one another without 
 speaking? 
 
 “ Did you never hear about it when the prisoner read it?” [lb. 
 
 p. 21.] 
 
 “ After you have appointed them, do you not report them to 
 Mr. Smith?” [Ib. p. 22.] 
 
 The next glaring violation of all the rules of evidence was the 
 admission of hearsay, which every schoolboy knows cannot 
 be received in a court of justice; yet by this was the guilt 
 and fate of Quamina mainly, if not entirely proved, though 
 that was a point above all things necessary to be established 
 by the most unquestionable and strictly legal evidence, as, 
 without its being so, Mr. Smith could not be charged as a 
 principal in the second degree, in consulting with, aiding, and 
 abetting him in his treason. “ I hear that he was gibbeted 
 “ I hear he was shot in the back;” “ I hear they bring him 
 home, and chain him in the middle walk;” “ After I came 
 here (i. e. to prison,) I heard he was shot by the blacks; and 
 gibbeted about Success middle path:”—thus is the guilt 
 of the principal traitor proved by men who, if they were 
 associates in his crime, could easily have shewn what he 
 did, instead of but reporting what they subsequently had 
 heard. The very character of the insurrection itself is also 
 mainly to be drawn from evidence of what Jack told, or Qua¬ 
 mina said, long before it broke out, or was even planned; 
 and, still more monstrously, if any thiug can be so, by gene¬ 
 ral declarations and complaints of a number of slaves, made 
 nobody knows by whom, or when, or where, save that it is 
 
400 
 
 Review.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 manifest the accused never had any thing to do with them; 
 therefore they had as much to do with the trial of Thistle- 
 wood for the Cato-street conspiracy (there was, by the way, 
 a black engaged in that) as with that .of Mr. Smith. Yet, 
 to mark the gross partiality of the court, of which a word 
 or two more perhaps anon, long after the entire evidence 
 for the prosecution had been closed, of which the most ma¬ 
 terial part was hearsay, and after, too, the cross-examination 
 of the planters, militia officers, and others, whom the pri¬ 
 soner was obliged to call out of the enemy’s quarters, as to all 
 they had heard, and a great deal they had said, was over,— 
 on the appearance of his friend and colleague, Mr. Elliott, 
 Mr. Smith was informed by the acting judge-advocate, that 
 the court had ordered him to say, that iie must confine him¬ 
 self to the strict rules of evidence, and that in future hear¬ 
 say evidence would not be admitted. This direction, for 
 the future , given on the nineteenth day of the trial, speaks 
 volumes; for it shews, that all the irregularity of the eigh¬ 
 teen preceding days sprang not from any ignorance of the 
 strict rules of evidence, but from a determination to relax 
 them to any extent that might be necessary to secure the 
 conviction of the prisoner, and rigidly to enforce them when 
 that purpose might be hazarded by a similar license, to 
 which, as the irregularity had so long been permitted, and 
 its injurious effects could not be removed, he was injustice 
 and equity entitled. Nor is other proof wanting, that this 
 vague tittle-tattle did not creep in as evidence unawares, as 
 will sometimes be the case where every caution is used to 
 exclude it, for it was most shamefully and illegally invited 
 by the counsel for the prosecution, by such questions as are 
 put by them in the following instance, of as gross a violation 
 of one of the primary rules of evidence, as ever disgraced a 
 British court of justice. 
 
 “ Did you never hear the negroes say that something did not 
 please them?—No, only so far that I have heard them saying, that 
 since Sundays was taken to serve God, they ought to have Satur¬ 
 day to work their grounds, or even the afternoon of Saturday. 
 
 “ Did you never hear of this revolt long time ago ?—No, about a 
 month and a half ago, before it. 
 
 “ What did you hear about this war?—Jack told me about the 
 apper of freedom I spoke to the Court about already.” [Ib.p. 17.] 
 
 When we add, that these barefaced violations of the two 
 first rules of conducting an examination were committed by 
 the judge-advocate of Demerara himself, no one can hesi¬ 
 tate in denouncing him as either unqualified to hold his 
 
401 
 
 Trial of Mr. John Smith,' Missionary. 
 
 office for a moment longer, from ignorance at which the 
 student who has but half read his Blackstone once, and 
 attended court a single day, must blush; or, as unworthy 
 to fill it, from an illegal and oppressive discharge of its im¬ 
 portant functions unparalleled in modern times. 
 
 A third irregularity is, the previous private examination of 
 the witnesses by the very advocates who, as prosecutors for 
 the crown, examined them in open court. We are aware of 
 the practice prevailing in our West India colonies, of unit¬ 
 ing the office of the attorney and advocate; but when we 
 witness such monstrous perversions of all the rules of ex¬ 
 amination and of evidence, as we have already exposed, we 
 cannot think the suspicion unnatural to a person placed in 
 Mr. Smith’s situation, that the negro witnesses who were 
 admitted as king’s evidence, though deeply engaged in the 
 revolt, had been previously instructed in their lessons. Nor 
 can we help intimating that the acting judge-advocate would 
 have acted more professionally in abstaining from all pre¬ 
 vious intercourse with the witnesses, than by giving the 
 flippant answers contained in the following examination of 
 him as a witness by the court. 
 
 “ Have you examined the witnesses for the purposes of this 
 prosecution ?—I have examined several of them, and the witness 
 is one. 
 
 “ Have you attempted to mislead or instruct the witnesses as to 
 the evidence ?—As a witness here, I must answer, No; but I should 
 think, on ordinary occasions, such a question too degrading to be 
 put to me.” [House of Commons Rep. p. 36.] 
 
 Whether Mr. Smith is but an attorney acting as a bar¬ 
 rister, or an English barrister transporting himself to the 
 W r est Indies to act there also as an attorney, we know not, 
 but most assuredly, we do know many attorneys in England, 
 who would not scruple a little priming and screwing up of 
 their witnesses, especially if they could secure to themselves 
 the advantage of re-putting, in open court, the very leading 
 questions which would prove a man guilty of treason, or 
 whatever else you choose, by the mere formal repetition of 
 the monosyllables no and yes. After his disavowal upon 
 oath, we suspect not Mr. acting-judge-advocate Smith of 
 such disgraceful conduct; yet repeating our opinion, that 
 he had better have avoided all ground of suspicion, we can¬ 
 not but add, that we do shrewdly suspect that the story 
 about the soldiers was the invention of an acuter mind, and 
 more legal skill, than belonged to the negro who alone de¬ 
 posed to it. 
 
402 Review.—Minutes of Evidence on the 
 
 Can our readers require further proof of the determination 
 of the Demerara prosecutors of Mr. Smith, per fas aut nefas, 
 to convict and hang him ? Let them look for it in the facts, of 
 no question being allowed to be put, that could by possi¬ 
 bility reflect upon the governor or his measures;—of no in¬ 
 quiry being permitted as to the real causes of the revolt, 
 falsely ascribed to the machinations of the prisoner;—of the 
 court arbitrarily directing to be struck out of the defence 
 whatever they chose to construe into a reflection upon their 
 proceedings, down to a complaint of an answer to a ques¬ 
 tion not having been properly recorded. Let them trace 
 it again in the preventing Mr. Austin from being asked 
 a question which he seemed perfectly willing to answer, as 
 to whether he had not received similar presents from his 
 negro auditors to those, the taking of which by his wife 
 was given in evidence against Mr. Smith on a charge of 
 treason ; and still more strikingly in the atrocious injustice 
 of his having been compelled, notwithstanding his very 
 proper remonstrances, to answer a question propounded by 
 the court itself, as to his having heard some negro, (no one 
 knows who,) when examined before the board of evidence, 
 by which the proceedings on these trials were got up, 
 implicate Mr. Smith in this insurrection. To this, we would 
 add their preventing evidence being given, as to the know¬ 
 ledge of the governor of the instructions under which Mr. 
 Smith acted as a missionary, on the ground that the prisoner 
 having said he had called the witness to speak to the hand¬ 
 writing of those instructions, no other question could be 
 put to him; but after the flagrant act of injustice last re¬ 
 ferred to, we shall only quote the arbitrary direction of the 
 court, to strike out of the prisoner’s defence the expression 
 of his conviction, that whatever suspicion might have been 
 attached to him, it would “not be possible for any gentleman 
 to declare upon his oath, or upon his honour, that he was 
 guilty,” and having done this, we conclude w’ith asserting 
 that this conviction would have been ours, had not fifteen 
 officers at Demerara done that, which we are satisfied no fif¬ 
 teen “ men free from prejudice,” “ gentlemen of honour,” 
 (other offensive expressions struck out by their orders,) 
 would have done, within the compass of those dominions 
 upon the administration of whose laws their conduct has 
 reflected an indelible disgrace. 
 
t JubrotiijAtor. 
 
 OCTOBER, 1824. 
 
 On the Standard of Taste.” An Essay intended to compete 
 for a Prize, given by the University of Glasgow. By the 
 late William Friend Durant.--Part III. 
 
 Every judgment of the mind is correct or incorrect—ac¬ 
 cordant with the actual nature of things, or not so accord- 
 an d the same judgment, when subsequently suggested, 
 according to the laws which regulate the succession of 
 mental phenomena, will possess the same qualities that it 
 did possess at its first formation. Although, then, neither 
 beauty nor sublimity are qualities of the object, considered 
 abstractly ; and although the mental operation by which 
 emotion is excited, may not involve any judgment with 
 regard to the qualities of that object by which the train of 
 thought is suggested,—yet as such a train exists, the parti¬ 
 cular ideas, whether recalled or otherwise, of which it is 
 composed, must be true or false, must agree or disagree 
 with the real nature of things. 
 
 Besides all this, certain habits of association are at once 
 causes and consequences of correct thinking. To go into 
 the evidence of a fact so often stated, and so universally 
 admitted, would be worse than unnecessary; I shall, there¬ 
 fore, assume that fact as the ground of my future reasonings. 
 It would be at present superfluous to investigate the exact 
 nature of those habits or tendencies which are thus pro¬ 
 ductive of accurate thought, and which are fostered by that 
 very accuracy of which they are the causes. I only wish to 
 point out the indubitable fact, that the predominance of 
 certain principles of association is uniformly connected with 
 the correspondent prevalence of certain habits of thought. 
 I am aware that the differences which obtain in what may 
 be termed the associative tendencies of mankind, are, by some 
 metaphysicians, considered as of themselves sufficient to 
 account for all the varieties of intellectual character. It 
 has been conceived, that where our associates are—in con¬ 
 sequence of original constitution, or of habits subsequently 
 formed—regulated principally by some one particular law, 
 the direction and energy of our mental exertions will be 
 characterized by some strictly analogous peculiarity. It 
 VOL. viii.—no. 4. 2 F 
 
404 The Standard oj Taste: 
 
 has even been asserted,that all the differentintellectual powers 
 are resolvable into the laws of association or suggestion. 
 It is enough, however, for my purpose, that a connexion is 
 universally acknowledged to exist between the mental cha¬ 
 racter and those principles or laws, according to which the 
 succession of ideas and emotions is regulated. As a conse- 
 quenceof this, it will necessarily follow, that powerful minds 
 are o-enerally marked by the prevalence of certain principles 
 of association, which, although modified in every individual 
 instance by a thousand accidental circumstances—although 
 bearing different proportions—standing in different relations 
 to each other, and consequently giving, in each particular 
 case, some personal and inimitable peculiarity, are yet essen¬ 
 tially the same, or, at any rate, are marked by important 
 features of resemblance. 
 
 Taste, then, I conceive to be correct, 1st. When the 
 several conceptions, which go to make up the train of 
 thought by which emotion Ts preceded, agree with the 
 actual state of things; or, 2dly, When the association, in 
 consequence of which thought and emotion have been occa¬ 
 sioned, is such as is likely to have presented itself to a mind 
 accustomed to accurate and concatenated thought. 
 
 Perhaps I ought before to have remarked, that I do not 
 make a distinction between correctness and delicacy of 
 Taste. Delicacy implies correctness, and correctness im¬ 
 plies delicacy. To shew the difficulty, not to say the im¬ 
 practicability, of satisfactorily distinguishing the one from 
 the other, I will refer to a circumstance, which, however 
 minute, is not altogether unworthy of notice. Mr. Stewart 
 remarks, that “ the two distinguishing characteristics of 
 good Taste (it has been justly observed by different writers) 
 are, correctness and delicacy ; the former having for its 
 province the detection of blemishes, the latter the percep¬ 
 tion of those more refined beauties which cultivated minds 
 alone can feel.”* Now, then, let us turn to that illustra¬ 
 tion with which Mr. Hume commences what he, oddly 
 enough, terms “ a definition of delicacy.” “ One of them 
 tastes it, considers it; and, after mature reflection, pro¬ 
 nounces the wine to be good, were it not for a small Taste of 
 leather, which he perceived in it. The other, after using 
 the same precautions, gives also his verdict in favour of the 
 wine, with the reserve of a Taste of iron, which he could easily 
 distinguish.’’^ 
 
 * Phil. Essays, part ii. essay iii. chap. 3. 
 
 t Hume’s Essays and Treatises, part i. essay xxiii. 
 
405 
 
 An Essay, by W. F. Durant. 
 
 Here, then, is delicacy of Taste displaying itself in the 
 detection of that which detracted from the excellence of the 
 wine. \ et is this very illustration quoted by Mr. Stewart* 
 with evident approbation, although in general he dissents 
 from the conclusions, and objects to the reasonings, which 
 are contained in Mr. Hume’s twenty-third essay. I only 
 mention this to shew the difficulty of drawing a line, and to 
 justify myself in the view I have ventured to take of the 
 subject. The fact seems to be, that the same powers of 
 thought and feeling which constitute a delicate, will also 
 constitute a correct Taste—that the detection of blemishes 
 implies a previous acquaintance with excellencies, and that 
 a power of receiving pleasure from the beautiful, when 
 present, is necessarily followed by a sense of its absence, 
 when it is present no longer. All those circumstances, 
 whether of original conformation, of situation, of habit, or 
 of prejudice, which tend to humanize or to imbitter the 
 tempers and dispositions of mankind, will produce an 
 evident effect on the decisions, and even on the emotions, 
 of Taste. He who hates the possessor of an ornamented 
 parterre, will be delighted to fix his attention on every 
 thing that argues a want of judgment in the original plan, or 
 of care in the subsequent culture. In a different frame of 
 mind, he might perceive occasional deformities; but he 
 would avert his eye from them—he would dwell on the beau¬ 
 ties of the scene—he would describe the enchanting feelings 
 of delight it had occasioned, while he would avoid the men¬ 
 tion of those minor circumstances which might, neverthe¬ 
 less, have called for disapprobation. Just such are the 
 effects of that universal misanthropy, which renders me the 
 enemy of every man; or of that diffusive benevolence, 
 which inclines me to look on every man as a brother. This 
 moral reason may, perhaps, be given for the correctness of 
 Swift, and the delicacy of Addison. Such at least are the 
 views which have determined me to use the one word cor¬ 
 rectness as expressive of that idea, which some writers have 
 been pleased to consider in greater detail. I need not say, 
 that it is rather a question of nomenclature than of philo¬ 
 sophy; that I attach no great importance to its decision; 
 and that I, therefore, merely state my sentiments, without 
 deeming it worth wffiile to spend much time in defending 
 them. If, however, remarks so simple as those which I have 
 made above, needed corroboration, 1 might add, that they 
 are supported by no less an authority than that of Mr. 
 
 * Phil. Essays, part ii. essay iii. chap. 2. 
 
406 The Standard, of 'Juste: 
 
 Stewart. Speaking of “ that general disposition to be 
 pleased and happy, in which the essence of good nature 
 consists,” he observes, that such a temper, when transferred 
 “ to the study of the fine arts, can scarcely fail to incline 
 the Taste more strongly to the side of admiration than of 
 ccnsu 
 
 Assuming, then, this extensive signification of the word 
 correctness, we shall, I think, find that it is nothing more 
 than 1 have already described it to be. The difficulty of 
 giving any satisfactory definition, arises from the circum¬ 
 stance I am about to notice. Were I called upon, in as few 
 words as possible, to define the sense in which I use the 
 term correct Taste —I should say, that it is the power of 
 deriving from what is beautiful, that peculiar pleasure which 
 beauty°is calculated to communicate, without receiving 
 similar gratification from any object which really is not 
 beautiful. This doctrine, however, appears fitted to contro¬ 
 vert all my previously expressed opinions. The line of 
 argument hitherto pursued has been intended to shew that 
 there is no such thing as intrinsic beauty. Yet such a defi¬ 
 nition, as has been proposed, seems to go on the supposi¬ 
 tion of its existence. Here, then, some further explanation 
 becomes necessary. 
 
 By attending to analogous cases, which, in consequence 
 of their infrequent occurrence, or of some other peculiarity, 
 have never engaged the attention of philosophers, and have 
 not, therefore, been perplexed by the ingenuity of dispu¬ 
 tants—considerable light may sometimes be thrown on spe¬ 
 culations like that in which we are at present engaged. 
 The objection just stated is to the following purpose: If 
 beauty be not an inherent quality; and if it be, in fact, 
 nothing more than the connexion which exists between the 
 suggesting causes of certain trains of thought and emotion, 
 and" those trains themselveswhat meaning is conveyed 
 by the terms in which your opinion is stated? How can 
 that, by which these successions of thought and emotion are 
 occasioned, be otherwise than beautiful? or, when you 
 assert, that a man of correct Taste derives from what is 
 beautiful, and only from what is beautiful, that peculiar 
 pleasure which beauty is calculated to communicate, on 
 what principle is it that you deny to any thing that is in any 
 case actually productive of this pleasure, an epithet which 
 is simply expressive of the power of producing it? On 
 exactly the same principle,(I reply,) on which, in analogous 
 * Phil. Essays, p. ii. essay iii. chap. 11. 
 
407 
 
 .A/i Essay, by W. F. Durant. 
 
 cases, the application of words is frequently restricted. 
 Let us take, for instance, the word frightful or terrific. I 
 observe, then, that many things may create alarm, to which 
 we should not think of applying the epithet terrific. A 
 timid woman may turn pale at the sight of some minute and 
 harmless animal; while a man of the stoutest heart may be 
 appalled by a well contrived optical illusion, if he be unac¬ 
 quainted with the principles of its construction. Where, 
 then, is the ground of distinction ? There is no more dan¬ 
 ger in the one instance than in the other, because a squirrel 
 (for example) and a magic-lantern are alike innocuous, 
 and the emotion of terror is in both cases equally strong, 
 while it is in both cases equally unfounded. How, then, 
 comes it to pass, that while we should never think of calling 
 the squirrel a frightful animal, we are ready to admit, that 
 the illusive pageantry of the stage, or of the phantasmagoria, 
 presents a terrific appearance? Clearly, because in a mind 
 ordinarily well regulated, and at all accustomed to deduce 
 proper inferences from the information of the senses, an 
 animal so small—so evidently powerless—and so notoriously 
 innocent—could never produce that strong conception of 
 approaching evil, and those consequent emotions of terror. 
 Although, therefore, the creature is certainly terrific in the 
 particular instance in which its appearance excites alarm, 
 I do not think of designating it by an epithet which, with 
 whatever propriety it may be used in individual cases, is far 
 from being generally appropriate. On the contrary, a mind 
 perfectly trained to draw correct inferences from external 
 appearances, may be shaken by an optical deception, because 
 the originals of those shadowy representations which pass 
 before the eye have always, in previous experience, been 
 connected with real and imminent danger. That, therefore, 
 and that alone, is denominated terrific, which would produce 
 the emotions of terror with the majority of those whose 
 anticipations of evil are, in a great majority of cases, cor¬ 
 rect. The emotions of terror never exist apart from the 
 anticipation of evil. The emotions of Taste are also pre¬ 
 ceded by an intellectual process as real, although not, per¬ 
 haps, so susceptible of definition. As, then, the anticipa¬ 
 tions of evil may be in an individual case excited by an 
 object which would scarcely produce the same effect under 
 any other circumstances, so is it possible for the senti¬ 
 ments of beauty or of sublimity to be, in an individual in¬ 
 stance, suggested by an object not calculated to produce 
 them in the case of any other individual. Now, I should no 
 
408 
 
 The Standard of Taste: 
 
 more think of calling the one object beautiful or sublime, 
 than of denominating the other terrific; for the epithets 
 would, in both cases, be inapplicable and absurd. The 
 object is not naturally beautiful or terrific. In other words, 
 the power it possesses of inspiring the emotions of beauty 
 or of terror, has not its source in the “ general” principles 
 of human nature, (comprehending, under this phrase, not 
 only the natural constitution, but the natural condition of 
 man.) # There are, however, some trains of thought so 
 universally connected with certain suggesting causes, that 
 those suggesting causes are, in every instance, followed by 
 the same effects. Our minds may, indeed, be so imme¬ 
 diately called off to other objects, that the train of thought 
 and feeling may be interrupted: but wherever no such ex¬ 
 traneous influence is exerted, and the current is allowed to 
 go on undisturbed, that current undeviatingly flows in a par¬ 
 ticular channel. Some trains of this description there are, 
 which are accompanied by the peculiar emotions of beauty; 
 and these emotions, therefore, although not instinctive, are, 
 in certain circumstances, uniformly and universally excited. 
 It is not unworthy of remark, however, that to the Taste by 
 which such beauties are appreciated, we rarely apply the 
 epithet correct. Were a man to assure us that the sun, 
 setting in all the rich but mild resplendence of a summer's 
 evening, possessed for him no charms, we should not call 
 his Taste incorrect—we should deem it absurd, prepos¬ 
 terous, and unnatural. We should, in such a case, conceive 
 not merely that there might be some want of intellectual 
 vigour or cultivation, but that there was some positive men¬ 
 tal deficiency:—not that some casual warping association 
 might exist, but that there was a total absence either of 
 sensibility or of thought. If the same man, however, were 
 to prefer the Asiatic pomp of a gilded mosque, before the 
 severer beauties of the Pantheon, or the stiff mythological 
 sculptures of the Gentoos, before the productions of Praxi¬ 
 teles, or of Canova,—we should undoubtedly conceive 
 that his Taste was, to the last degree, puerile; but could 
 scarcely esteem it unnatural; because, without any original 
 defect either of understanding or of sensibility, the asso¬ 
 ciations, by means of which such a Taste is created, may, in 
 ten thousand instances, occur. 
 
 As there are, then, certain associations so universal, that 
 no man is exempted from their influence,—others there are, 
 which are confined to particular classes of mankind. I 
 * Phil. Essays, p. ii. essay iii. chap. 3. 
 
409 
 
 An Essay, by W. F. Durant. 
 
 have before remarked, in the words of Mr. Stewart, that 
 when we speak of human nature, we include the natural con¬ 
 dition, as well as the natural constitution of man. Now, 
 the principles of human nature are every where the same; 
 but the results which ultimately flow from these principles 
 in their development, vary with the varying circumstances 
 of individual experience. If, therefore, all mankind agree 
 in certain associations, it is only because all mankind, 
 possessed of a common nature, partake, to a certain degree, 
 of a common condition. Now, similar causes operating in a 
 narrower field, will, as far as their influence extends,^ pro¬ 
 duce similar results. If, therefore, a general resemblance of 
 condition produce these general effects on the sentiments of 
 the human race,—a resemblance which obtains not univer¬ 
 sally, but among individuals of a particular class, will pro¬ 
 duce an effect coextensive with the limits of that class to 
 which these individuals belong. This similarity cannot, 
 indeed, equalize all the varieties of mental character,—sup¬ 
 ply deficient sensibility, or create new powers of intellect. 
 Its existence implies nothing more than that the mental 
 energies are, in each individual case, called forth in a parti¬ 
 cular direction. Indeed, it is thus with those beauties 
 which are the most extensively recognized. A peasant and 
 a Virgil would both acknowledge the charms of the setting 
 sun ; and each would feel emotions in general character not 
 dissimilar from those experienced by the other. Yet who 
 would compare the sentiments of the uninstructed country¬ 
 man with those of the poet? As w 7 as before remarked, 
 however, certain pursuits, by producing peculiar associa¬ 
 tions, render certain classes of men susceptible to the emo¬ 
 tions of beauty, in circumstances under which other minds 
 would remain unaffected. Now, the whole human race may 
 be distributed into two or three great divisions, containing 
 the educated, and the uneducated —the thoughtful and the 
 inconsiderate. These great divisions have, of course, cer¬ 
 tain habits of thought which are peculiar to those of which 
 each is composed. Different as may be the tendencies of 
 individuals—apparently antithetical as may be the diversi¬ 
 ties of character among minds which are, by this general 
 classification, reduced under one great division—the very 
 circumstance that they may fairly be ranked together, 
 demonstrates the existence of some points of resemblance 
 constitutional, or induced by habit. As far, then, as this 
 resemblance extends, there will be, among those minds in 
 which it exists, a general similarity of operation. This 
 
410 
 
 The Standard of Taste: 
 
 similarity of thought will produce a similarity of emotion in 
 kind, if not in degree, in the external causes to which it is 
 ultimately traceable, if not in the force or duration of the 
 effect. A certain peculiarity in the principles of association 
 is, therefore, found to exist among that part of the commu¬ 
 nity which is gifted with intellectual superiority. This 
 peculiarity has, on the emotions of beauty, an effect which 
 we have before attempted to point out; and the enlightened 
 are, consequently, affected by objects different from those 
 which agitate the rest of mankind, or by the same objects 
 in a different degree. Professional men form other classes, 
 which may be considered as inferior divisions of that to 
 which we have just alluded. Other points of resemblance 
 are thus introduced; and if no new feelings are created, 
 another set of exciting or suggesting causes is pointed out 
 as affording novel sources of pleasure. Thus, then, think¬ 
 ing and educated men will all have, in common, some asso¬ 
 ciations which have no influence over the other portions of 
 the human race. The individuals who compose the several 
 subdivisions of this general class will have other modes of 
 thinking and feeling peculiar to their own society, and will, 
 consequently, derive their emotions—and, among the rest, 
 the emotion of beauty—from objects which excite no kin¬ 
 dred feeling in minds devoted to opposite pursuits. With¬ 
 out, therefore, going into detail, I would in general remark, 
 that men who are in the habit of thinking correctly with 
 regard to the same objects, must resemble each other, either 
 in the original constitution of their minds, or in the intel¬ 
 lectual discipline to which they have been subjected. This 
 resemblance implies a general similarity in their associa¬ 
 tions, in relation to that particular subject with which they 
 have successfully cultivated an acquaintance. While the 
 associations by which this subject is suggested, are multi¬ 
 plied in proportion to the frequency with which it has been 
 contemplated, the particular ideas which present themselves 
 are generally correct, and the succession is regulated, less 
 by fortuitous coincidence, than by the perceived regularity 
 of philosophy and nature. 
 
 Thus, then, it is that a perfect acquaintance with any 
 branch of knowledge communicates correct ideas, creates 
 new associations, and destroys those which were founded in 
 prejudice and misconception. This effect on the succes¬ 
 sion of thought has a natural and necessary influence over 
 the composition of our complex feelings; so that, on every 
 subject , those who possess the most extensive acquaintance 
 
411 
 
 A/i Essay, by W. F. Durant. 
 
 with the objects it presents, will derive from them an emo¬ 
 tion, in kind or in degree, essentially differing from that with 
 which the same objects affect the uninitiated. I conceive, 
 therefore, that a man may be said to have a correct Taste on 
 any subject, when the trains of thought it suggests, and 
 when the emotions he derives from contemplating it, are 
 such as would naturally arise in the mind of a wise and 
 educated man. The epithet is, I conceive, applied to the 
 sentiments of Taste, because each emotion, which the ob¬ 
 jects of Taste occasion, implies some previous intellectual 
 operation, to which that emotion is attributable. Similar 
 emotions are naturally and properly ascribed to similar 
 trains of thought. Similar trains of thought, suggested in 
 different cases by the same object, imply the existence of 
 some association, or even of some habit of association com¬ 
 mon to the two minds in which the succession takes place. 
 Associations, and more especially habits of association, are 
 indicative at once of original constitution and of mental cul¬ 
 ture. Those emotions, therefore, which certain objects 
 generally produce in vigorous and highly cultivated minds, 
 are, whenever they are excited by the same objects, con¬ 
 sidered indicative of the same intellectual character. I do 
 not mean to say, that men in general, before they use the 
 phrase in question, actually go through this train of rea¬ 
 soning. Ordinary observation is sufficient to teach them 
 the constant connexion which exists between mental excel¬ 
 lence and correct Taste. This uniform coexistence is quite 
 sufficient to produce some idea of necessary connexion, and 
 it is this idea—how vague soever in the majority of cases it 
 may be—which leads mankind to apply to Taste—and not 
 only to critical Taste, which is, of course, a mere modifica¬ 
 tion of judgment, but to the sentiments of beauty and sub¬ 
 limity—epithets which are, in strictness, applicable only to 
 operations purely intellectual. 
 
 Of this theory, the importance attached to classical 
 Taste is at once illustrative and confirmatory. The clas¬ 
 sics undoubtedly contain much of w hat is intrinsically beau¬ 
 tiful. By intrinsic beauty, I mean that which produces its 
 appropriate emotions in consequence of its adaptation to 
 the unchanging principles of human nature. There is, 
 however, much that is indifferent—perhaps, even positively 
 faulty—to which, nevertheless, antiquity has lent adventi¬ 
 tious lustre. A classical Taste and a correct Taste are thus 
 terms so nearly synonymous, that it would be difficult to 
 draw between them any line of distinction. This arises, no 
 
412 
 
 The Standard of Taste: 
 
 doubt, in a great measure, from that genuine excellence to 
 which I have before adverted. It is not, however, to be 
 forgotten, that classical associations necessarily exist in 
 every highly cultivated mind; and that their existence is, 
 therefore, an indication of mental superiority. Classical 
 attainments are connected with our first notions of literary 
 excellence. Classical knowledge is imbibed at a period 
 when the heart is at once susceptible, and tenacious of im¬ 
 pression, and when the sunshine of opening life communi¬ 
 cates a sort of consecrating brilliance to all the objects 
 which it has illumined. Every scholar, therefore, feels a 
 peculiar interest in all that has any connexion with his ear¬ 
 liest studies. Youth too is the period of emotion, and, 
 therefore, as our knowledge of Creek and Roman literature 
 is principally acquired during the first years of our existence, 
 almost all the ideas which classical allusion excites, are 
 “ ideas of emotion.” Classical associations, therefore, 
 have a peculiarly powerful influence over men of classical 
 education. As classical education is necessary to the scho¬ 
 lar and gentleman, as such an education necessarily pro¬ 
 duces classical Taste in minds of ordinary thought and 
 sensibility—this result is considered as a mark of intellec¬ 
 tual cultivation. 
 
 At all events, we shall find that wherever we look, that 
 Taste, and that alone, is generally esteemed correct, which 
 accords with the feelings of those best acquainted with the 
 nature of the object by which the emotions of Taste are 
 excited. This coincidence of fact with theory, gives con¬ 
 siderable probability to the opinions I have hazarded. 
 While, therefore, I am far from supposing, that I have no 
 difficulties with which to contend, 1 presume to hope that 
 my notions are not altogether incorrect, and that the results 
 of the preceding investigation tend to throw considerable 
 light on the subject of our inquiry. 
 
 The difficulties of any inquiry into the philosophy of 
 Taste principally arise from the ambiguity of the language 
 usually employed on subjects of this nature. It was, there¬ 
 fore, necessary to devote a considerable portion of this 
 exercise to preliminary—perhaps, very uninteresting—dis¬ 
 cussions. To settle the meaning of words, is, however, a 
 woik of no slight importance, and if this object seem to 
 have attracted a disproportionate share of attention, let it be 
 remembered that obscurity frequently vanishes altogether 
 when definition has taken the place of inaccuracy. Al¬ 
 though, therefore, my principles of reasoning may be liable 
 
413 
 
 An Essay, by W. F. Durant. 
 
 to objection, and my reasonings to the charge of inconclu¬ 
 siveness, I do flatter myself that my meaning, whether cor¬ 
 rect or incorrect , is easily discoverable; and that, assuming 
 the truth of former propositions, the inference to be deduced 
 from them will appear to be their simple and natural conse¬ 
 quence. It may, indeed, appear as if this section had been 
 completely anticipated; and as if nothing more remained 
 than the formal enunciation of conclusions involved in what 
 has been already admitted. This w’ould, perhaps, really be 
 the case, were there not certain points to which it will be 
 necessary to advert before we conclude, and which, without 
 our adopting any more complex division, may be discussed 
 in the course of the present section. 
 
 The standard of Taste, then, is to be sought for in the sen¬ 
 timents of those who are best acquainted with the nature 
 and properties of the object which is denominated beautiful 
 or sublime. This is, as far as my observation has extended, 
 the only test by means of which the correctness of Taste 
 can be ascertained; and this test we learn to apply, under 
 all those various modifications of circumstances by which 
 the sentiments of beauty are affected. That ship, and that 
 only, is universally acknowledged to be beautiful, which 
 pleases the eye of the experienced sailor; and no one can 
 pretend to a good Taste in horses, if he dissent from the 
 unbiassed decisions of the jockey or of the groom. No 
 man in his senses w’ould, on such subjects, think of defend¬ 
 ing his sentiments by appealing to the decisions of Milton 
 or of Locke, unless he could shew that Milton and Locke 
 added to their other acquirements an intimate acquaintance 
 with the dock-yard and the manege. I have, in the pre¬ 
 ceding section, endeavoured to point out the foundations 
 on which this conclusion rests. If any doubt exists as to 
 the truth of the principle, I have only to request the objector 
 to apply that principle, under every variety of circumstances, 
 and thus to ascertain if it coincide with the results of expe¬ 
 rience. Should such an examination terminate in our 
 favour, our sentiments are supported by all the evidence, 
 which, under ordinary circumstances, it is possible to obtain. 
 We have a theory, of which the great principles are accord¬ 
 ant with the facts which are brought under our notice. 
 
 Much confusion has, in truth, been introduced by an un¬ 
 due spirit of generalization, in consequence of which, prin¬ 
 ciples, in themselves correct, have been extended to cases 
 to which they are not properly applicable. Hence has 
 arisen an ambiguity of statement, which has perplexed a 
 
414 
 
 The Standard of Taste: 
 
 subject already sufficiently complicated, and which, by pre¬ 
 senting an obscure medium, renders it sometimes difficult to 
 ascertain the real meaning which authors have intended to 
 attach to their own statements. Dr. Blair, for instance, 
 whose want of original thought renders his writings a pretty 
 fair index by which to judge of the fashionable philosophy of 
 his day—seems totally at a loss when he attempts to ascer¬ 
 tain the standard of Taste. In his second lecture, we meet 
 with statements, which, if not in juxta-position, would seem 
 to be absolutely and intentionally opposed to each other. 
 He first observes, “That which men concur the most in admir¬ 
 ing, must be held to be beautiful. His Taste must be esteemed 
 just and true, which coincides with the general sentiments 
 of men. On this standard we must rest.”* This is abso¬ 
 lutely false, or universally true. It is wholly futile to bring 
 in subsequent explanations to restrict the meaning of a pro¬ 
 position like that which has just been cited. Any state¬ 
 ment, which implies a limitation, involves a contradiction. 
 If by the “ concurring sentiments of men,” we are to under¬ 
 stand nothing more than the sentiments “of men placed in 
 such situations as are favourable to the proper exertions of 
 Taste,”f then does our appeal lie no longer to “the common 
 feelings” of mankind, but to feelings common only to a few 
 who happen to be peculiarly situated. Aware, however, 
 that a statement so unqualified, would conduct to the most 
 erroneous conclusions, he does attempt to shield himself by 
 the limitation which has just been alluded to; and restricts 
 “ to men placed in certain situations,” the number of those 
 persons whose “concurring sentiments” on all questions of 
 taste are to be considered as decisive. The fact appears 
 to be, that because there are certain objects, concerning 
 which all men possess a nearly equal share of information, 
 there are also certain objects by which similar trains of asso¬ 
 ciated thought are in each individual instance suggested, 
 and similar feelings universally excited. In this case, the 
 general Taste of mankind is universally correct; because no 
 one can have had opportunities of forming, in relation to the 
 beautiful or sublime object, associations essentially differing 
 from those which are generally prevalent. Any occasional 
 exceptions are attributed, not to peculiarity of association, 
 but to an inherent defect either of intellect or of sensibility. 
 There are, however, a great number of cases in which the 
 peculiarities of individual circumstances, or of individual 
 character, may infinitely vary the degrees of knowledge, toge- 
 * Blair’s Lect. on Rhet. sect. ii. f Ibid.* 
 
415 
 
 An Essay, by W. F. Durant. 
 
 ther with the facilities of its acquirement. Here the stan - 
 dard of Taste is to be sought for, not in the “ concurring 
 sentiments” of mankind, but in the opinions and feelings of 
 those who are the most perfectly acquainted with the object 
 which is denominated beautiful or sublime. 
 
 It may be worth while here to mark the difference which 
 subsists between Taste and sensibility. By Taste here, I do 
 not mean that exercise of judgment by which we are enabled 
 to discern the fitness of certain means to excite certain 
 pleasing emotions; but I intend, as I have done all along, 
 to denote the mental process which enables us to derive 
 pleasure from beauty and sublimity. Those peculiar states 
 of mind, which are denominated passion, will, if subjected 
 to a nice analysis, be found to consist of two distinct ele¬ 
 ments, thought and emotion. Thought and emotion are, I 
 admit, united by a close and inseparable bond of connexion, 
 still they are to be considered as different parts, although 
 belonging to the same complex whole—although frequently 
 coexisting, yet, as in every case, virtually separable. It 
 is, therefore, very possible, that although they are always 
 to be considered as originally bearing the relation of 
 cause and effect, and although they may not unfrequent- 
 ly be so united as afterwards to form one complex state 
 of mind, the relative proportions, in which they are found 
 in different individuals, may not be regulated by any in¬ 
 variable standard. We do certainly find, that while the 
 same sensations are, as far as we can judge, universally con¬ 
 sequent on the same external impressions, the intensity of 
 the sensation may be in a multitude of cases affected by the 
 peculiarities of individual constitution. In this way it is 
 possible that certain conceptions may be, wherever they 
 occur, “ ideas of emotion,” while yet the degree of the emo¬ 
 tion by which they are accompanied, may be, in some minds, 
 incalculably greater than it is in others. It may, therefore, 
 happen, that to two minds the same object may suggest the 
 same train of thought—that this train of thought may, in 
 both cases, be productive of emotions, in kind exactly simi¬ 
 lar, but in amount extremely unequal. In this case, it 
 would, I apprehend, be correct to ascribe the distinction, 
 not to dissimilarity of Taste, but to some original and con¬ 
 stitutional difference of sensibility. It is, therefore, possi¬ 
 ble that, where little emotion is experienced, the Taste may 
 be perfectly correct. If the feelings which are excited bear 
 to each other the same relative proportions which are found 
 to exist in vigorous and well-informed minds, we denomi- 
 
416 
 
 The Standard of Taste: 
 
 nate the Taste correct, although emotion may, in the cases 
 of different individuals, be in different actual proportions to 
 the causes by which it is produced. When reading the 
 Iliad, we may experience emotions of beauty or of sublimity 
 in the perusal of those very passages, by which Aristotle 
 and Longinus were similarly affected. In this case, our 
 Taste is exactly the same with that of these illustrious critics. 
 Yet Aristotle and Longinus may have derived, from these 
 passages, pleasure more exquisite than we can, by any 
 stretch of imagination, conceive. In this case, there is, I 
 imagine, no difference of Taste, but a great difference of 
 sensibility. It is thus in analogous cases. A public bene¬ 
 factor dies. I am aware of the value of that which is now 
 lost to the world. For a moment I pause and moralize— 
 give way to a few gentle emotions of transitory sorrow—and 
 again return to the business and pleasures of life. The 
 gloom that hung over my path is dissipated by the first 
 gleam of sunshine, and the scene once more smiles with 
 unvaried brightness. On the other hand, let a man of 
 melancholy temperament hear the very same tidings. The 
 reflexions which arise, perfectly harmonize with the general 
 character of his mind; and a string has been touched which 
 in his heart is ever ready to vibrate. Instead, therefore, of 
 experiencing the transient emotion of general sympathy, he 
 cherishes the most gloomy feelings, and looking around on 
 nature with his eye unprepared to take delight in her beau¬ 
 ties, seems to view them all through a discoloured medium; 
 and thus diffuses over the whole landscape a darker hue of 
 melancholy. I acknowledge, however, that this subject is 
 attended with a considerable difficulty, which it is not, per¬ 
 haps, possible for the nicest analysis entirely to remove. 
 Trains of thought may, in their general character, resemble 
 each other, while the individual conceptions, of which the 
 one train is composed, may considerably differ from those 
 which go to make up the other. The same objects, there¬ 
 fore, may suggest to different minds, trains similar in their 
 general character of emotion, while the thoughts of which 
 each is composed are, in many points of view, distinguish¬ 
 able from those which form parts of the rest. Menta? phe¬ 
 nomena, however, as far as they come under our cognizance, 
 and, perhaps, the varied tone of feeling in our own minds at 
 different periods, may tend to persuade us that it is possible 
 for the same conception to be in different cases followed by 
 emotions, which, if they all possess the same general charac¬ 
 ter, are not all the same in the degree of their intensity. 
 
417 
 
 An Essay, by W. F. Durant. 
 
 It, then, it were possible for a human being to exist so en¬ 
 tirely and exclusively intellectual, as to be altogether devoid 
 of emotion—to such a being. Taste could not with any pro¬ 
 priety be ascribed. Taste is, in fact, emotion: but then it 
 is emotion, considered not abstractly, but considered in 
 relation to the thought by which it was preceded and ex¬ 
 cited : and Taste is denominated correct, when the nature 
 of the emotion indicates the existence of vigorous and accu¬ 
 rate thought; or, at least, of such thought as could have 
 arisen only in a vigorous, or in a cultivated mind. If, 
 therefore, sensibility were utterly destroyed—then, suppos¬ 
 ing thought, and accurate thought, to remain, yet that pecu¬ 
 liar indication of its existence which is now to be found in 
 the peculiar nature of the excited emotion—would no longer 
 have any being. The degree of sensibility may, however, 
 be diminished, where such a diminution does not involve, 
 by any means, the same consequences. If emotion still 
 exist, it may serve to denote the character of the mind by 
 which it is experienced. Its proportions may be the same 
 with those which are found in vigorous and cultivated 
 minds, and although its amount may be so small as to argue 
 a deficiency of feeling, enough will remain to indicate the 
 mental character. A man may, therefore, possess correct 
 Taste, although he be deficient in sensibility; since the cor¬ 
 rectness of Taste is estimated less by the absolute, than by 
 the proportional, amount of those emotions which the 
 objects of Taste excite. Could I, for instance, feel assured 
 that Virgil derived from any given scene in nature, a plea¬ 
 sure ten times exceeding that with which my own mind is 
 affected on viewing the same collection of objects; and 
 could I also ascertain that the poet’s general sensibility 
 exceeded my own in the exact ratio of ten to one—I should 
 have a right to consider my Taste, as in this case, coinci¬ 
 dent with that of the illustrious Mantuan. The emotion, 
 although its intensity would be in the one case greater than 
 in the other, would, in both cases, be an equivalent indica¬ 
 tion of thought. These views I deemed it right to bring 
 under the notice of the reader, although I certainly have 
 done so with considerable hesitation, yet lam, on the whole, 
 inclined to believe that this sort of diversity exists. When, 
 however, I consider the amazing varieties of intellectual 
 character—the nice shades of difference by which mind is 
 distinguished from mind—and the marked diversities which 
 are, nevertheless, every where observable—I am far from 
 wishing to deliver any confident opinion. That there are 
 
418 
 
 The Standard of Taste: 
 
 certain differences of original sensibility, will be universally 
 admitted. It is not, however, so easy to believe that these 
 inequalities bear no fixed proportion to the disparities of 
 intellect, and, consequently, to the vivid distinctness of 
 those conceptions by which all emotion is preceded. It is 
 nearly impossible to mark those slight varieties of thought, 
 which may, perhaps, considerably vary the subsequent emo¬ 
 
 tion. Until this has 
 
 assert that the same conception is not , in every instance, fol¬ 
 lowed by the same emotion. It is, I presume, unnecessary 
 to remark, that when I speak of one conception as the same 
 with another conception, I consider them in relation, not 
 merely to the object to which each of them refers, but to 
 the clearness, the minuteness, the accuracy, and the strength, 
 by which they are both alike distinguished. On the whole, 
 however, the view which has been already taken, appears to 
 me to be more consistent with what we know of the pheno¬ 
 mena of mind. If the reader be inclined to entertain the 
 opposite opinion, he will find the difference to be of very 
 secondary importance. For, however curious in a philoso¬ 
 phical point of view, may be the question to which I 
 have alluded—very little ingenuity is, 1 believe, requisite to 
 reconcile with either of these opinions the conclusions to 
 which we have been led in the course of this investigation. 
 Should the latter opinion be embraced, it may still be con¬ 
 sidered possible for correctness of Taste to exist where 
 there may be comparatively little sensibility. The nature 
 of the emotion would still shew the general character of 
 the preceding train of thought, although its feebleness would, 
 at the same time, indicate a want of vigour and of vivid dis¬ 
 tinctness in the ideas of which that train might be com¬ 
 posed. The sentiments, however, which I before expressed, 
 seem to me more consistent with the facts which I have had 
 any opportunity of observing. Sensibility and delicacy of 
 Taste, “ seem,” says Mr. Stewart, “ to depend in no incon¬ 
 siderable degree, on original temperament.”* 
 
 Such, then, are the restrictions and explanations with 
 which our opinions are to be received; and having made 
 these prelimim marks, we are led to this conclusion — 
 
 Fhe sentiments of the wisest and best instructed of mankind, 
 
 are the Standard of Taste . 
 
 A question here presents itself, without a reply to which, 
 the principle that has just been laid down, is available to 
 no practical purpose whatever,—In what way are we to 
 
 * Phil. Essays, part ii. essay iii. chap. 4. 
 
An Essay, by W. F. Durant. 
 
 419 
 
 ascertain the actual state of feelingamong those whose sen¬ 
 timents constitute the standard of Taste? 
 
 It may be very true, that “ none of the rules of” criticism 
 “are fixed by reasonings a priori.”* The very existence of 
 a rule, however, of course implies the possibility of apply¬ 
 ing it as varying circumstances arise. If we have to wait 
 till some particular phenomenon displays itself, no rule can 
 propei'ly be said to exist till this phenomenon has made its 
 appearance. If, then, the sentiments of the wisest and 
 best instructed of mankind, constitute the only standard— 
 how are we to ascertain the correctness of Taste in any 
 individual instance, where we have no means of collecting 
 the suffrages of others ? This difficulty—obvious as its solu¬ 
 tion seems to be—appears sadly to have perplexed Doctor 
 Blair.—“ Must we,” says he, “ collect the voices of others 
 before we form any judgment for ourselves of what deserves 
 applause in eloquence or poetry? By no means. There 
 are principles of reason and sound judgment which can be 
 applied to matters of Taste, as well as to subjects of science 
 and philosophy. He who admires or censures any work of 
 genius is always ready, if his Taste be in any degree im¬ 
 proved, to assign some reasons for his decision. He appeals 
 to principles, and points out the grounds on which he pro¬ 
 ceeds. Taste is a sort of compound power, in which the 
 light of the understanding always mingles, more or less, 
 with the feelings of sentiment.”'!' But to what does all 
 this tend? Dr. Blair has just asserted, that “ to the sense 
 of mankind, the ultimate appeal must ever lie in all works of 
 Taste.”J What, then, can judgment do, if it be supplied 
 with no materials on which to work? Of what avail is 
 argument, when there are no premises on which to found 
 our reasonings? And yet, it seems, we may come to a deci¬ 
 sion, without ascertaining the sense of mankind, although 
 to that sense “the ultimate appeal must ever lie.” All this 
 confusion arises for want of ascertaining, or of clearly defin¬ 
 ing, the nature of the subject to which these “ principles of 
 reason and sound judgment” are to be applied. If the cor¬ 
 rectness of Taste can be ascertained by abstract a priori 
 reasonings, or by that vague, mysterious principle to which 
 the name sentiment is so frequently given, there is surely no 
 necessity for any other standard. The difficulty and con¬ 
 tradiction are, however, removed, if we ascribe to this exer¬ 
 cise of reason, its true province. A standard exists, and to 
 
 * Hume’s Essays and Treatises, part i. essay 23. 
 
 t Blair’s Lec-turcs ou Rhet. lect. ii. J Ibid. 
 
 VOL. vin.— no. 4. 2g 
 
420 
 
 The Standard of Taste : 
 
 its decisions every man necessarily bows. To these deci¬ 
 sions every man bows: for those who are most perversely 
 opposed to the sentiments of others, do not pretend to 
 assert that their own Taste is more correct than that of the 
 wisest and best instructed of mankind ; which would, in fact, 
 be to look down on the whole human race as their inferiors— 
 but that the majority of suffrages will be in their favour, 
 when future generations shall sit in judgment on the pro¬ 
 ductions of the past. To this universally recognized stan¬ 
 dard, however, we have frequently no access. Either we 
 are totally ignorant of the appearances it presents, or we 
 have reason to suspect that we are contemplating those ap¬ 
 pearances through a delusive medium. Here, then, the 
 “principles of reason and sound judgment” may be applied 
 with the highest advantage. 
 
 The standard of Taste has, in certain cases, presented 
 appearances so unequivocal, that we can no longer hesi¬ 
 tate to consider them the natural results of unchanging 
 principles. Having marked these appearances, and the cir¬ 
 cumstances in which they have uniformly displayed them 
 selves, we learn to consider the latter as the concurrent 
 causes, the former as the effects resulting from this co¬ 
 operation ; and, reasoning analogically, to anticipate, or to 
 infer, the existence of the one, wherever we can ascertain 
 the presence of the other. 
 
 The rules of criticism are no more than general enuncia¬ 
 tions of results which have been obtained lay this mode of 
 patient investigation. We remember the past—we compare 
 it with the present—we anticipate the future. We know 
 that certain combinations of thought have administered 
 pleasure to vigorous and cultivated minds. By comparing 
 several of these combinations, and by thus ascertaining 
 how much may be abstracted without diminishing the effect, 
 we learn to separate what is necessary and elementary from 
 its unessential concomitants. Thus are we taught to ex¬ 
 pect that the wisest and best instructed of mankind, will 
 be affected in a particular way in those cases in which we 
 discover the elementary principles from which their gratifi¬ 
 cation has already, in so many instances, been found to 
 arise. Thus, then, it is that these sentiments, once fairly 
 ascertained, become, in the proper sense of the word, a 
 standard of Taste. It is not necessary for us, in every 
 individual instance, to be possessed of the strong evidence 
 of actual experience. Without its aid, we can apply this 
 standard. Assured as we are of the uniformity of nature. 
 
421 
 
 An Essay, by W. F. Durant. 
 
 we may, by analogy, judge of the correctness of Taste in 
 particular instances; because analogical reasoning enables 
 us, with tolerable certainty, to anticipate the decisions of 
 minds vigorous and cultivated. It matters not whether pre¬ 
 vious observations have been reduced under their several 
 heads, so as to constitute general rules, each applicable to 
 a variety of particular cases; or whether, without scientific 
 arrangement, these observations serve as directions in those 
 numerous instances in which the results of experience may 
 be of importance to guide our practice. In either case, the 
 consequence is, in fact, the same—depending on the same 
 principles, and leading to the same end. It is thus that these 
 sentiments constitute a standard universally and immediately 
 applicable, so that, by its means, the correctness of Taste 
 may be ascertained with tolerable exactness. Taste is, in 
 fact, correct only when it coincides with the sentiments of 
 certain classes of mankind. The actual state of these senti¬ 
 ments is, therefore, of course the standard of correctness. 
 After having been led to these conclusions, it only remained 
 to point out the mode of ascertaining the real indications 
 of this standard. This is to be effected chiefly on the prin¬ 
 ciples to which I have adverted ; although, when the oppor¬ 
 tunity shall present itself, we may notice another method of 
 obtaining the same result. 
 
 To these remarks, it may perhaps be objected, that the 
 intervention of reasoning and argument, according to this 
 account of the matter, is absolutely essential to success— 
 that the existence of the standard does not preclude the 
 possibility of error; and that the rule itself cannot be com¬ 
 pletely ascertained, without our being exposed to the dan¬ 
 ger of mistake. But is any one absurd enough to imagine 
 that the standard of Taste resembles a mechanical rule, or 
 even an algebraic formula? Wherever this is not the case, 
 thought and reasoning are requisite, not only for apply¬ 
 ing the standard, but for ascertaining what that standard 
 really indicates. 
 
 The state of those sentiments which may be considered 
 as constituting the standard of Taste, is to be ascertained 
 by analogical reasoning, as much as by actual observation 
 and experience. It is, however, sufficiently evident, that the 
 existence of analogical reasoning implies previous observa¬ 
 tion and experience; because, until w’e are acquainted with 
 the existence, with the accompanying circumstances, of 
 certain phenomena, we can never be led to anticipate, when 
 the same antecedents occur—the same results. It is, there- 
 
422 
 
 The Standard of Taste: 
 
 fore, highly desirable to remove all doubt on a subject of so 
 much importance; and to point out the principles which 
 ought to regulate us in conducting those previous observa¬ 
 tions, any defect in which, will necessarily vitiate every 
 conclusion drawn from them. 
 
 In this attempt, one of our first objects should be to 
 effect what may not improperly be denominated a classifi¬ 
 cation of the objects of Taste, according to the extent and 
 degree of their influence. If we admit the truth of what 
 goes before, we must believe that there are certain objects 
 which produce the emotions of beauty, or those of sublimity, 
 throughout the great family of man. No situation is so 
 remote, no mind so uncultivated, as to be unsusceptible to 
 their influence. The associations from which they derive 
 their power, are dependent neither on the caprices, nor on 
 the prejudices, of mankind. The cause of their effects is 
 to be sought for, not in the accidental variety of character 
 or of circumstances, but in the great principles of human 
 nature. Under this last term, however, I would include, 
 according to the very accurate definition of Mr. Stewart, 
 not only the natural constitution, but the natural condition, of 
 man. To these universal beauties, then, let us first direct 
 our attention. 
 
 That which is intended to minister to the exclusive gra¬ 
 tification of the educated and enlightened classes of the 
 community, must, to the majority, be unmeaning or dis¬ 
 tasteful. On the contrary, all that is addressed to the prin¬ 
 ciples of our common nature will be felt alike by the learned 
 and the rude, by the most uncultivated and the most refined. 
 The former is like a dead language, intelligible to the 
 instructed only—the latter is, to the great brotherhood of 
 man, what, to each particular community, is its own verna¬ 
 cular tongue—intelligible to every individual member of 
 the body. It is, therefore, of great practical importance for 
 us to ascertain the nature of these associations—that we 
 may thus be able confidently to appeal to the universal sen¬ 
 timents of mankind. It may here be alleged, that where 
 sentiments are so universal as has been represented, we 
 cannot stand in need of any standard beyond the evidence 
 of consciousness. The circumstance of their universality 
 implies their existence in my own bosom, and w’hy should I 
 go abroad to discover the nature of that which is every hour 
 forcing itself on my notice ? The reply, however, is suffi¬ 
 ciently obvious. To effect an alteration in our own senti¬ 
 ments, is not the ultimate intention, although it may be the 
 
423 
 
 An Essay, by W. F. Durant. 
 
 immediate and the most obvious effect, of the attention we 
 pay to a standard of Taste. I cannot perceive in what con¬ 
 sists the intrinsic inferiority of those emotions which are 
 experienced by a man of the most vitiated Taste. If an 
 Indian pagod, and a Taheitan idol, please their respective 
 worshippers, as well as the Venus of Praxiteles, or as her 
 modern rival, the Venus of Canova, pleases me,—we are, I 
 think, in this view, on a par. If the contemplation of Asiatic 
 finery, communicate to my mind a degree of enjoyment equi¬ 
 valent to that which you derive from the simple and almost 
 severe elegance of Grecian architecture,—in what respect— 
 since our pleasures are equal in amount—are my sentiments 
 intrinsically less valuable than yours? The difference will, 
 however, appear in our practice. My vitiated Taste will 
 lead me into a thousand senseless extravagances. If I do not, 
 by means of that great standard which has been pointed 
 out, discover the incorrectness of my own sentiments, I 
 shall, of course, make no effort to conceal them. I shall, 
 therefore, shock those whom it is my intention to delight; 
 and thus afford indications of that inaccuracy of thought 
 from which such inaccuracy of Taste must have proceeded. 
 To illustrate this, permit me to have recourse to—a vulgar 
 perhaps—but a simple analogy : let us imagine a cook so con¬ 
 stituted as to derive from tobacco, the sensation of sweet¬ 
 ness—from sugar, the sensation of bitterness. It is clear that 
 to this man’s palate, a dish, in which the place of sugar 
 should be supplied by a proper quantity of tobacco, would be 
 as pleasing as the original composition might be to a person 
 ordinarily constituted. In this sense, then, there could be 
 “no disputing about Tastes;” since the fact of his gratifi¬ 
 cation would, in point of evidence, stand on the same basis 
 with the fact of my dislike. In each case the individual 
 would possess the evidence of consciousness ; those around 
 him, the evidence of testimony. If, however, this cook, 
 never having ascertained the existence of any opposition 
 between his own Taste and that of his fellow-creatures— 
 were to shower around him the universal sweetener—what 
 nauseous compounds of disagreeable elements would he pre¬ 
 sent to his unfortunate customers! 
 
 In one respect, and in but one, the analogy fails. The 
 oddity of these compositions would, indeed, render probable 
 the existence of some correspondent peculiarity in the palate 
 of their former, but that peculiarity itself, would be no in¬ 
 dication whatever of any intellectual inferiority. Not so in 
 the analogous case. A vitiated Taste, while it is discovered 
 
424 
 
 The Standard of Taste: 
 
 by mistakes as numerous and as gross as those to which we 
 have just referred—is universally attributed to some defect 
 in mental constitution, or in mental culture. If, therefore, 
 a standard of Taste be desirable at all—it is so in every 
 case in which the emotions of beauty or of sublimity exist j 
 because, although every man has experienced those univer¬ 
 sal feelings which belong to the individual in common with 
 the species this kind ot knowledge will not prevent many 
 practical errors. The sentiments of mankind are so various, 
 and the emotions wdiich succeed each other, or which co¬ 
 exist, so rapid, so undistinguishable, and linked together, in 
 each individual instance, by so many peculiar associations, 
 as to produce a compound mass which it is not easy to 
 analyze,and of which, reason, unassisted by frequent obser¬ 
 vations, cannot ascertain the component elements. In com¬ 
 pany with emotions that are attributable to suggesting 
 causes, by which all men are similarly affected, many othe^* 
 trains of feeling may chance to be excited. Those emotions, 
 which are common to the species, and those which are pecu- 
 liar to the individual, may thus coexist in time, or mav, at 
 all events, succeed each other so rapidly, as undistinguish- 
 ably to co-operate in the production of one really or°appa- 
 rently complex result. If, therefore, the peculiarity of these 
 associations be a secret to the mind which is under their 
 influence, how many practical mistakes may be the conse¬ 
 quences! Our own feelings naturally guide us in our en¬ 
 deavours to excite emotion in the breasts of others. Thus 
 then might we completely neutralize all the good effects 
 winch would have resulted from our appeals to the universal 
 eelings of mankind, by introducing circumstances which 
 may be disgusting, or uninteresting^ to a mind differently 
 constituted or circumstanced from our own. The desirable¬ 
 ness o consulting some standard is, therefore, sufficiently 
 evident, and since we have already seen the nature of that 
 standard the only remaining question is-how are its deci- 
 sions to be correctly ascertained? To this inquiry, I have 
 already attempted to give a satisfactory reply. There is 
 
 yevteT’ t0 which 1 llllve not before ad- 
 
 True, in a certain sense, it is, that “ none of the rules of 
 composition are fixed by reasonings a priori We must 
 be acquamted with facts, before w S e can argue upon them 
 and ,1,,° works of art had ever appearedf it would, 
 
 11 s, ha\ e been impossible, by any abstract reasoning to 
 llume s Essays amt Treatises, part i, essay 23, 
 
425 
 
 An Essay, by W. F. Durant. 
 
 have arrived at correct conclusions on subjects of laste. 
 
 It does not, however, necessarily follow, that, in all specula¬ 
 tions of this nature, past experience is our only guide, and 
 that we derive no light from any other quarter. If, as I 
 have attempted to shew, the sentiments of Taste are to be 
 ascribed to the ordinary powers and susceptibilities ot the 
 human mind, it appears probable, that a general acquaint¬ 
 ance with the laws of mental phenomena, may, at least par¬ 
 tially, supersede the necessity of any peculiar intimacy with 
 the facts relating to those particular phenomena, with which 
 criticism is solely conversant. I know that acquaintance 
 with the laws of mind, cannot be obtained without expe¬ 
 rience, and without accurate observation. Every d priori 
 argument, however, depends on an acquaintance with some 
 first truth, or on the admission of some general principle, 
 from which our conclusion is supposed to be a necessary 
 inference. There are, then, it seems to me, two methods, 
 according to which the rules of composition may be ascer¬ 
 tained. Of these methods, one is, I am aware, more gene¬ 
 rally applicable. Still, both of them have their respective 
 uses; and in no case, perhaps, is either of them employed 
 to the total exclusion of the other. The first, and most 
 ordinary method, has been already described. Experience 
 teaches us that certain combinations have produced the emo¬ 
 tions of beauty or of sublimity. Extensive observation of 
 these effects, enables me to anticipate their occurrence, and 
 ascertain their causes. On this species of knowledge, then, 
 rules are founded. Such knowledge, however, is, after all, 
 nothing more than an intimate practical acquaintance with 
 certain laws of the mental constitution. A careful induction 
 of particulars, has taught us the invariable connexion be¬ 
 tween certain emotions, and the circumstances and situa¬ 
 tions which are favourable to their excitement: and we thus 
 learn to produce the one, by creating or recalling the other. 
 It is, however, by no means impossible, that a more exten¬ 
 sive induction may have taken place—that we may have 
 laboured to ascertain the laws, not of certain emotions, but 
 of emotion in general—in a word, that we may have attended, 
 not to the peculiarities of Taste, but to the phenomena of 
 mind. Having, then, in this way arrived at general con¬ 
 clusions, why may it not be possible to deduce a par¬ 
 ticular inference on this as well as on any other subject? 
 Acquainted, as I am supposed to be, with the laws ot mind, 
 why may it not be possible for me to anticipate the opera¬ 
 tions of mind ? In this sense, then, the rules of composition 
 
426 
 
 The Standard of Taste: 
 
 may be fixed by reasonings a priori. I am fully aware that the 
 methods which have been before mentioned are more gene¬ 
 rally applicable to practice. But to leave unnoticed this 
 latter mode of ascertaining the correctness of Taste, would 
 be to disregard one important source of information. It is, 
 indeed, inaccurate to suppose, that in either case, observa¬ 
 tion and experience are unnecessary. The only difference 
 is, that in one instance the attention has been exclusively 
 directed to the emotions of Taste, while in the other, a 
 general survey has been taken of the phenomena of mind. 
 In both cases, an induction of facts precedes the general con¬ 
 clusion. From that conclusion, particular inferences are, in 
 both cases, drawn. In the one view, however, the rules of cri¬ 
 ticism are to be considered as immediate inferences from the 
 admission of still more comprehensive conclusions. This 
 last method is peculiarly conducive to the attainment of a 
 correct Taste on subjects of general interest. Those pecu¬ 
 liarities of sentiment, which are the consequences of supe¬ 
 rior mental acquirements, vary so perpetually, as we ascend 
 in the scale of intellect, and so much depend on the posses¬ 
 sion of information which it is in the power of only a few to 
 obtain, that it is difficult or impossible for any man to arrive at 
 general conclusions concerning them, except after repeated 
 and accurate experiments. It is, therefore, in such cases 
 almost unavoidable, to depend on the report of those who 
 may have possessed the means of accurate observation. Our 
 general conclusions, therefore, must be entirely founded on 
 what we can ascertain of past decisions on similar occasions. 
 Ihe feelings of the heart are, however, every where the 
 same. The glory of the rising sun is in every mind asso¬ 
 ciated with images of cheerfulness. To all, it suggests the 
 notions of renewed vigour, diffusive happiness, and univer¬ 
 sal animation. The splendour of his setting cannot be 
 noticed without inspiring ideas of tranquil serenity, finished 
 labour, and approaching repose. The roar of the mountain 
 cataract must every where produce that awe and elevation, 
 in the union of which the emotion of sublimity is found to 
 consist. There are, too, in every breast the seeds of kindly 
 feeling, which, however repressed by habit, or how nearly 
 soever eradicated by depravity, will sometimes shoot forth, 
 and demonstrate their existence by their effects. These are 
 t ie foundations of sentiments and associations on which we 
 may securely depend; and a forcible appeal to which can 
 nevei be entirely disregarded. Our first business, there- 
 ioie, should be, by collecting the opinions of others, and by 
 
427 
 
 An Essay, by W. F. Durant. 
 
 a careful analysis of our own feelings, to ascertain the 
 hature of those associations which are most generally preva¬ 
 lent, and consequently, of those circumstances in which 
 the emotions of beauty and sublimity are most frequently 
 excited. The merit of a work of Taste must generally be 
 estimated according to the power which it possesses to sug¬ 
 gest those trains of feeling which every member of the great 
 human family is capable of experiencing. Those emotions 
 which are peculiar to men of cultivated minds, are neces¬ 
 sarily founded on associations which have been formed in a 
 comparatively late period of life. No great disparity can 
 exist between the acquirements of different children, because 
 no one of them has had time greatly to outstrip his cotempo¬ 
 raries in the race of intellectual competition. The associations 
 formed in the first stages of our existence must be connected 
 with the objects of early observation, and those objects must 
 be, in all cases, nearly the same, at a period when the varieties 
 of intellectual character have had no time to display them 
 selves—when the differences of mental culture have scarcely 
 produced any perceptible shades cf distinction—and when 
 the inequalities of fortune have hardly begun to exert their 
 influence over the infant mind. These circumstances, 
 which, in after life, turn the course of thought into chan¬ 
 nels as numerous as are the diversities of character and 
 situation, possess no power to direct the motions and feelings 
 of infancy. Those associations, therefore, which are found 
 in every mind, are, for the most part, formed during the ear¬ 
 lier period of our existence. In our younger days, emotion 
 is at once more frequent and more lively than it is after¬ 
 wards. I know not whether it be the novelty of the scene 
 around us which occasions surprise, and keeps up expecta¬ 
 tion—whether it be to some peculiarity in the early consti¬ 
 tution, which gives vivacity to the emotions of childhood— 
 or whether it be to a thoughtless disregard of the future, 
 and an exclusive attention to that present feeling, of which 
 experience has not taught us to anticipate either the termi¬ 
 nation or the consequence—that this frequency and force 
 of emotion must be attributed. The fact, however, can 
 scarcely be doubted, that although emotion, deep, violent, 
 and lasting, may be occasionally experienced—there is not, 
 in after life, the same unvaried flow, the same ceaseless play 
 of feeling. Desides all this—the violent emotions of the 
 man are so generally preceded by crime, or followed by 
 grief, or made up of various and discordant elements, as 
 in the retrospect to present no images of gladness unasso- 
 
428 
 
 The Standard of Taste: 
 
 dated with images of melancholy. The griefs of childhood, 
 on the contrary, are so trivial in their origin, so small in 
 their amount, or so short in their duration, that when we 
 look back on the period, they scarcely cast a shade to vary 
 its brightness. Its joys too, unallayed by anticipations of 
 evil—unpurchased by the sacrifice of virtue—obtained by 
 no criminal efforts, and succeeded by no remorseful recol¬ 
 lections—afford, in after life, that soft green on which the 
 eye loves to repose, when it is fatigued with the glare of 
 the surrounding prospect. All these circumstances concur 
 in giving to our earliest associations, peculiar power and 
 fascination. Now, as the most universal are also, generally 
 speaking, our earliest associations, another reason exists 
 for paying particular attention to those kinds of beauty in 
 which the whole human race is similarly interested. 
 
 It is, nevertheless, desirable to gain a Taste more gene¬ 
 rally correct. The associations which classical education 
 and habits of philosophic thought produce, are, in many 
 cases, sufficiently powerful to give a particular character to 
 the whole tone of feeling. Superior charms are thus added 
 to those things which nature rendered charming; and many 
 objects are invested with a beauty, of which the untutored 
 eye could not have discovered the existence. Besides any 
 immediate pleasure which these beauties are fitted to pro¬ 
 duce, a relish for them, wherever it displays itself, is so 
 strongly indicative of those intellectual habits from which 
 alone it can spring—that in minds capable of duly appre¬ 
 ciating, it excites a sentiment of admiration, and of delight¬ 
 ful sympathy. It is, then, highly desirable to possess in 
 this case also, some standard, that we may not disgust by 
 affectation, where we intend to please by delicacy of allu¬ 
 sion; nor, in our search for recondite beauties, collect un¬ 
 meaning conceits. 
 
 The standard to which we must ever revert, is to be sought 
 for in the sentiments of those who are best informed on the 
 subject which may chance to be before us. In the applica¬ 
 tion to practice, some difficulties undoubtedly present them¬ 
 selves. We must always take into account the situation of 
 those minds over which we intend to exert an influence. 
 It may thus, perhaps, sometimes consist with correctness of 
 laste to admire, or to introduce a figure or an allusion, 
 which our own feelings, unrestrained, would induce us to 
 1 eject, and which a nice critic would undoubtedly condemn. 
 Here, however, the rule which has been laid down is not 
 infringed. Those who are best acquainted with our object. 
 
429 
 
 An Essay, by W. F. Durant. 
 
 and with the state of the popular mind, perceive the perfect 
 adaptation of the instrument to the work it is intended to 
 accomplish. The perception of this fitness may be pro¬ 
 ductive of the highest admiration, and even of a feeling 
 nearly akin to the emotion of beauty. 
 
 In writing for mankind, therefore, w r e must not write for 
 one subdivision of the species. When we address a parti¬ 
 cular class of men on that subject which has engaged the 
 particular attention of them all, we must study the habits 
 and feelings which their common pursuits may have engen¬ 
 dered. That is most pleasing—most beautiful—which dis¬ 
 plays a Taste perfectly coincident with the Taste of those 
 who possess, on this subject, the greatest share of informa¬ 
 tion. Such a Taste is, under such circumstances, denomi¬ 
 nated correct, because it is indicative of habits of correct 
 thinking. But if, when writing for mankind at large, we use 
 exactly the same style, our Taste may justly be called in 
 question. Let it ever be remembered, that the correctness of 
 Taste is synonymous with the indication its presence affords 
 of habits of correct thought . The remotest approach to 
 pedantry tends to demonstrate the non-existence of such 
 habits. It shews that we have forgotten our object—were 
 unequal to our task—or w ere unacquainted with the extent 
 of our duty. It shews the want of that comprehensive sur¬ 
 vey which takes in the extensive, while it does not over¬ 
 look the minute; and enables us to assign to each its rela¬ 
 tive importance. It shews that the eye has been so long 
 accustomed to confinement within the limits of one little 
 circle, as to be incapable of taking in those larger views, 
 which every where offer themselves to the philosophic 
 observer. 
 
 To the same standard, then, we should, on all occasions, 
 appeal, although doubt may sometimes arise from the pecu¬ 
 liarity of the circumstances under which it may be neces¬ 
 sary to apply it to practical uses. The chief difficulty will 
 be, to ascertain the concurrence of enlightened men in any 
 one decision. This difficulty is, however, diminished when 
 we consider, that if it be our intention to please any subdi¬ 
 vision of the human species, it will be, in most cases, com¬ 
 paratively easy, from the recorded results of past experience, 
 to deduce rules for the guidance of our practice. VY hen we 
 write for mankind at large, correctness may appear more 
 unattainable. If, however, we remember that correct Taste 
 is chiefly or entirely valuable, as it is indicative of correct 
 thinking, the force of this objection w r ill be removed. No 
 
430 
 
 The Standard of Taste: 
 
 man has reason to blush because there are some things with 
 which he is imperfectly acquainted. No man, therefore, is 
 expected to possess a Taste indicative of that with which 
 no man is endowed. As the deficiency itself is not dis¬ 
 graceful, the mark of that deficiency is not so. If a work 
 which is expressly intended for a particular class of the 
 community, be characterized by such a Taste as betrays the 
 absence of those habits which the author’s professions have 
 led us to expect, we condemn that Taste as incorrect, 
 because it marks reprehensible incorrectness of thought. 
 4 he production is chiefly intended for those who are capa¬ 
 ble of perceiving the deficiency, and seems to put forth 
 pretensions for its author, which are contradicted by inter¬ 
 nal evidence. 
 
 He whose object it is to please mankind at large, must be 
 content to take a comprehensive view of his subject, instead 
 of searching for those little beauties which must be unseen 
 or unfelt, except, perhaps, by a few isolated labourers 
 in some unfrequented field of literature or science. He 
 must please, by the boldness of his outline—the disposition 
 of light and shade, the depth and mellow richness of his 
 colouring— and the expression of the whole picture—not by 
 the Flemish minuteness with which he paints a peas-pod or 
 a cabbage-leaf. A gardener or a botanist may perceive the 
 accuracy of the resemblance, and the beauty of the drawing: 
 and if the painting be intended for none but gardeners and 
 botanists, this accuracy is not merely desirable, but neces- 
 however, the attention of man/citid is to be arrested, 
 some other charm must be perceived, or mankind will pass 
 by unaffected. The great object, therefore, should be to 
 display a Taste indicative of those modes and habits of 
 thought which belong to the man, the gentleman, and the 
 scholar. 
 
 It is, perhaps, in cases of this kind, impossible to erect 
 any perfectly unvarying standard. Those pursuits which 
 engage the attention of the higher and better educated classes 
 of society, may sometimes change their objects; and what¬ 
 ever these pursuits may be, they will always have an adven¬ 
 titious charm superadded to their intrinsic worth. They 
 are the badges of a class, and thus become the marks of 
 other and more valuable acquisitions. The Taste which 
 these pursuits generate, is looked upon as an evidence of 
 their existence, and thus becomes indicative of that which 
 is itself indicative of something still more important. With 
 the variations of learning, therefore, the standard of correct 
 
431 
 
 An Essay, by W. F. Durant. 
 
 Taste will vary. That kind of education which gives the 
 human mind a fair opportunity for unfolding its powers, im¬ 
 plies, in Europe, an acquaintance with the classics ; in Hin- 
 doostan, with the shasters; in China, with the writings of 
 Confucius. In Europe, consequently, that Taste is ad¬ 
 mired, which naturally arises from early attention to classi¬ 
 cal learning: and I doubt not that among the Chinese 
 and Gentoos, the same ideas of correctness and elegance 
 are attached to that species of Taste (whatever it be) which 
 demonstrates a complete acquaintance w T ith the w r ritings 
 in which the learning of those countries consists. I do 
 not now refer to the admiration which is justly conceded to 
 the Taste that is able to appreciate the intrinsic excellence 
 of these very writings. This may exist apart from the feel¬ 
 ings to which I now more particularly allude. Things hap¬ 
 pen to be so arranged, that men of liberal education univer¬ 
 sally go through certain preparatory studies, which are, by 
 common consent, placed at the threslihold of knowledge. 
 Where regular attention has been paid to these preparatory 
 studies, we are, at least, assured, that opportunity for im¬ 
 provement has been afforded. And although the converse 
 may not be in every case strictly true; yet, wherever we find 
 that these studies have been neglected, we ha \e,pHmafacie, 
 every reason to suppose that no considerable progress has 
 been made in polite or useful learning. On these subjects, 
 therefore, it may not be possible to obtain any invariable 
 standard; or, rather, perhaps, from the application of essen¬ 
 tially the same standard, to deduce unvarying results. 
 
 After all, it must be admitted, that, out of the strict 
 sciences, mere rules are wretchedly defective. Genius 
 must be its own guide. No sooner have the rule, compass, 
 and square of criticism, marked out the path to which it 
 behoves all future generations to adhere, than some eminent 
 mind sets at nought the enactments of self-constituted 
 legislators, and overthrows the system which they had so 
 laboriously erected. It is as if, on the sand, you were to 
 trace a line, and call it the boundary of the ocean: the next 
 returning tide would obliterate every vestige of your labour. 
 Thus do the systematic critics of every age, calculate with 
 the same precision—adjust with the some nicety—define 
 with the same care—decide with the same confidence— 
 undergo the same disappointments—and, with a few excep¬ 
 tions, sink into the same oblivion. 
 
 Yet let me not be supposed to assert that genius acts 
 without a rule. Observation and experience guide all its 
 
432 
 
 The Standard of Taste. 
 
 procedures. But then it is an observation so penetrating— 
 an experience on which are founded reasonings so subtle, 
 yet conclusions so comprehensive—that ordinary men are 
 incapable either of arriving at the same facts, or of dedu¬ 
 cing the same inferences. General results are, indeed, appa¬ 
 rent to all; but, without a knowledge of all the secret springs 
 which conduce to their production, it is impossible to esti¬ 
 mate the infinite modifications which may be introduced, 
 without detracting any thing essential from the ultimate 
 ellect. I he difference between the man of genius and the 
 man of rule, is to be sought for less in the standard they 
 use, than in the manner of using it. The able calculator, 
 and the blundering novice, have each the same rules and 
 formulae; yet how differently do they apply the same instru¬ 
 ment? The one, by a constant exercise of ingenuity, gives 
 to his art an extent of application to which the other is a 
 total stranger; and, under the most complicated circum¬ 
 stances, renders his elementary knowledge subservient to 
 purposes with which the other is entirely unacquainted. 
 T hus, too, the man of genius has only the opinions of man¬ 
 kind, and the analysis of his own feelings, to direct him; 
 but those opinions are accurately ascertained, those feelings 
 ably analyzed. While effects present themselves, causes 
 are investigated; and thus, instead of arbitrary rules, discon¬ 
 nected, or united only by the bond of system, he possesses 
 the results of philosophical thought; and is able, from his 
 elevated station, in one comprehensive survey, to include, 
 not isolated facts merely, but facts with all their distinct 
 relations and dependencies. 
 
 This train of reflections I cannot bring to a conclusion, 
 better than by quoting the just and eloquent remarks of Sir 
 Joshua Reynolds, sanctioned as they are by the still higher 
 authority of Mr. Stewart: “ What we call genius begins & not 
 where rules, abstractedly taken, end; but where known vul- 
 gar and trite rules have no longer any place /’—** It is true, 
 these refined principles cannot be always made palatable, 
 like the more gross rules of art; yet it does not follow but 
 that the mind may be put in such a train, that it shall per¬ 
 ceive, by a kind of scientific sense, that propriety which 
 words can but very feebly suggest.” 
 
A Lecture by the Rev. Dr. Collyer. 
 
 433 
 
 The History of Ethics: a Course of Lectures delivered at the 
 Surrey and Philomathic Institutions. By the Reverend 
 William Bengo’ Collyer, D.D. LL.D., F. A. S. Presi¬ 
 dent of the Philomathic Institution, &>c. fyc.fyc. — Lecture If. 
 
 The difference between the various writers on morals has 
 been less relative to the subject itself, than to the princi¬ 
 ple into which it is to be resolved. Mankind, from the 
 very earliest inquiries after right and wrong, have arrived, 
 for the most part, at the same conclusions, but they have 
 not deduced them from the same source. Paley has justly 
 observed, that if it be asked, “Why am I obliged to keep my 
 word?” six different persons will give as many different 
 answers to this important inquiry. “ Because it is right,” 
 says one : “ Because it is agreeable to the fitness of things,” 
 says another: “ Because it is conformable to reason and 
 nature,” says a third : “ Because it is conformable to truth,” 
 says a fourth: “ Because it promotes the public good,” 
 says a fifth : “ Because it is required by the will of God,” 
 concludes a sixth. These are the principal, although not all 
 the bases assumed by those who have written on Ethics. 
 The first, begs the question, which is to ascertain what is 
 right. The second, places morals on intellectual superiority, 
 which is necessary to decide on the fitness of things. The 
 third, perplexes the inquiry with metaphysical disquisitions, 
 from the perplexities of which the mind escapes bewildered, 
 with the mere advantage of finding that it is unable to decide 
 by such a mode what is conformable to reason and nature. 
 The fourth, advances a position, without assigning a reason 
 why we are obliged to conform to truth ; asserts the prin¬ 
 ciple, without supporting its claims. The fifth, makes it a 
 question of jurisprudence, rather than of morals gene¬ 
 rally. The sixth, lays a basis which will be found to be 
 the only secure one, but is met with the objection, How' is 
 the will of God to be ascertained ? Is it by revelation? that 
 is limited at present in its circulation, and the obligations of 
 morals are universal. If not—by what means shall this 
 will be learned ? and by what argument shall the fact be 
 established, that any supposed duty is really so; that any 
 particular requisition is conformable to the Divine Will ? 
 This supposes a knowdedge of the Divine Being, which has 
 not obtained universally, except in so limited a degree that 
 it can be scarcely so termed. 
 
 Yet will these men, setting out as from the different points 
 of a circle, converge towards a common centre. They will 
 
434 
 
 History of Ethics: 
 
 arrive at the conclusion, that to keep one’s word is a moral 
 duty—and, at variance as to the principles which they ad¬ 
 vance, they will ultimately coincide in respect of the object. 
 This is a most important fact in connexion with Ethics—a 
 demonstration that, whether we can develop the process or 
 not, the law of our nature, and that of morals, is coincident: 
 and the system which most closely approximates them, 
 tracing both to the Deity, is most likely to approach 
 nearest the truth. To trace distinctly the operation, may 
 be more difficult than to find the basis—but to agree in the 
 result, even while we differ as to the detail, establishes 
 morals beyond dispute. The subject has engaged the at¬ 
 tention of every civilized country—and man in a savage 
 state, which has perhaps been unjustly called a state of na¬ 
 ture, since we have no certain reasons to conclude that lie was 
 from the beginning what he is found to be in an uncivilized 
 condition,—man even in a savage state, is not without his 
 fixed principles of moral action, and a sort of intuitive per¬ 
 ception of duty. To argue that such a perception super¬ 
 sedes the necessity of moral investigation, would be absurd : 
 but it is here alluded to, simply to shew, that the basis of 
 morals, whatever it is, is laid in the very constitution of our 
 nature. No language is to be found in which terms expres¬ 
 sive of virtue and vice, describing the boundaries of right 
 and wrong, conveying praises and censures as connected 
 with the one and with the other, do not subsist. Languao- e 
 is the communication of feeling—the vehicle of imparting 
 thoughts, convictions, principles, perceptions; and such 
 terms argue correspondent impressions, or they had never 
 been invented. 
 
 The question relates to the origination of this common 
 principle: and I cannot but think metaphysical disquisi¬ 
 tion has clouded the subject which it intended to elucidate. 
 Because fables were abused, and because tradition was 
 sometimes absurd, Aristotle resolved to reduce every thino- 
 to reason, and to account, therefore, for every thing. He 
 perplexed himself; and others, who adopted his mode of 
 investigation, without possessing his magnificent powers 
 and his discriminating judgment, mistook sophistry for 
 reason, and disputation for wisdom. We must be satisfied 
 to know some tacts, without being able precisely to under¬ 
 stand how to develop them. A result may be clear, where 
 the process is concealed. To investigate mind, to trace its 
 operations, to discover how it is wrought upon, as well as 
 how it acts, is a noble and interesting study. But if on 
 
435 
 
 A Lecture, by the Rev. Dr. Collyer. 
 
 physics, we are obliged occasionally to be satisfied with a 
 fact, without being capable of accounting for it, shall 
 metaphysical research be always clear and undoubting? or 
 shall any grand fact, relating to morals, be resigned, because 
 we caunot trace the mode of its operation upon the human 
 mind? The same rule applied to subjects, on the results of 
 which no doubt is entertained, will be found to involve the 
 same perplexities. The evidence of the senses is held un¬ 
 questionable testimony; yet philosophers, when their in¬ 
 quiries are exhausted after the reasons assignable for the 
 admission or rejection of their testimony, must be content 
 at last to resolve it into the constitution of human nature ; 
 and to receive it as legitimate proof relative to those things 
 which lie within the department of the senses. I have 
 wished, therefore, to separate the inquiry after morals, so 
 far as possible, from physical and metaphysical disquisition, 
 and to associate it with facts, that we may obtain from 
 these some information applicable to purposes of general 
 utility. 
 
 It has been already seen that Pythagoras, and the earlier 
 moralists, satisfied themselves with suggesting general rules 
 for the regulation of the conduct, as precepts, admonitions, 
 or doctrines, without combining them into theory, or in¬ 
 quiring far into their foundation and their sanctions. 
 They rather produced them as self-evident propositions, 
 addressed to a moral faculty, which could not fail to con¬ 
 vince by their coincidence with this unknown and undefined 
 principle. As a plain man would say to another, this is 
 green, and this is blue; this is white, and this is black; 
 without speculating on the theory of colours—simply ad¬ 
 dressing the senses—these early sages contented themselves 
 with appealing to the understanding and the heart, and say¬ 
 ing, this is right, and this is wrong. 
 
 We shall take our former stand, and begin with Socrates. 
 The grand distinction between this philosopher and others, 
 was not simply that he arranged morals into a more perfect 
 system, reducing to form the crude and mingled elements of 
 his predecessors, although he was the first to do this—since 
 others, who succeeded him, organized Ethics still more care¬ 
 fully than he did, and w'ould have borne from him the meed 
 of praise, had this been his primary excellence—but the 
 glorious characteristic of the philosophical labours of this 
 great man, was, that they were practical—that they all 
 tended to useful results, and demanded active obedience. 
 Speculative morality regards truth abstractedly; but the 
 
 VOL. VIII.—no. 4 . 2 II 
 
436 
 
 History of Ethics: 
 
 great study of Socrates was Man. His object was not 
 merely to lead to an apprehension of truth, but to produce 
 the practice of virtue. While, therefore, he sacrificed all 
 other sciences to the study of morals, he separated from 
 morals themselves, that which was speculative, retaining 
 only that which was practical. In this, I apprehend, con¬ 
 sisted his grand distinction and his chief excellence. 
 
 I would not be understood to insinuate that the specula¬ 
 tive philosophers wholly withdrew their disquisitions from 
 practical results. Plato affirms that “to philosophize is to 
 know, to love, and to imitate God,” and that “ he deserves 
 ill of philosophy, who lives not philosophically;” which is 
 but saying, in other words, that the speculations which re¬ 
 gard truth are unavailing, except they are also practical in 
 morals. Seneca asks, therefore, “What is philosophy, but 
 a law of life?*” Plutarch affirms, that “ to be truly wise, is 
 not only to understand what constitutes being, but to be 
 engaged in what contributes to well-being.f” Epictetus 
 charges his disciples, “not to tell the world that they were 
 philosophers in words, but by deeds.” Even Aristotle, who 
 abounded so much in speculation, allowed the superiority of 
 practical ethics. “Many,” said this great man, “neglect 
 these things, and, resorting to their reason, they philosophize, 
 and so expect to be virtuous; resembling a man who should 
 call in medical advice, listen attentively to the physician, 
 but never follow his prescriptions: if speculation in the one 
 case could not heal the body, in the other it will never cure 
 the mind.J” All, therefore, allowed the necessity of prac¬ 
 tical over theoretical morality; but Socrates alone, exclud¬ 
 ing speculation, confined himself to the preceptive part of 
 Ethics. And I have dwelt the more earnestly upon this, 
 because, while he was the centre whence the different 
 schools proceeded, we are not to expect any very accurate 
 definition of principles from what is recorded as spoken by 
 him, his whole study being to urge the practice, and to dis¬ 
 countenance speculative philosophy. 
 
 Xenophon and iEschinus adhered precisely to the Ethics 
 of Socrates, while various modifications admitted by others 
 of his disciples gave birth to the different sects of the Ionic 
 school successively : these again, as we shall now perceive, 
 even from a superficial and hasty glance, originated the 
 various bases which have been assumed by modern writers 
 on Ethics. Briefly to point out the evidences of this state- 
 
 * Epist. 90. + Pint, de placit. philos. lib. 1. 
 
 t Arist. Eth. 1. 2. c. 4. 
 
A Lecture, by the Rev. Dr. Collyer. 437 
 
 ment, by a rapid comparison between them, will occupy the 
 remaining space of this Lecture; which is but a continued 
 sketch ot the history of morals, embracing more particularly 
 the separate or combined principles on which they have been 
 usually enforced. 
 
 Aristippus the Cyrenian founded the sect called the 
 Cyremac; proposing happiness as the chief good. Antis- 
 thenes was the father of the Cynics, who taught that virtue 
 was the principal thing. He was followed bv Zeno, with 
 whom the Stoics originated; whose principles accorded of 
 course with this grand maxim, and with the general opinions 
 of Socrates. Euclid gave birth to a sect called variously 
 Megarics, Eristics, and Dialectics. Phsedo established the 
 Eleatic sect; afld Plato, the most distinguished of all, was 
 the founder of the Academics. Having gathered into one 
 beautiful combination the scattered parts of philosophy, he 
 distributed them into physics, morals, and logic; with the 
 second of which we have to do. Plato makes happiness 
 the chief end of moral prudence, which he branches out into 
 comprehension of circumstances, promptitude and felicity 
 ot determination, and precautions relative to things which 
 may arise, that they should not take us by surprise, nor im¬ 
 pede the advancement of the individual towards this ultimate 
 good. He calls this faculty by various names ; dexterity of 
 judgment, sagacity, a natural facility, a sort of intuitive 
 science; he says that it is blended with, and perfected by, 
 experience; and this combination alone forms the true phi¬ 
 losopher. The self-reflection in which all this terminates is 
 but another name for conscience. The rule of moral prudence 
 lie affirms to be according to right reason, called also, the 
 light, or law, of nature—the common law—and he refers it 
 to the eternal law of nature, which, amidst the various laws 
 of nations and their vicissitudes, continues uniform and the 
 same; which, therefore, he calls Being (to or). We find our¬ 
 selves plunged at once into the various theories by which 
 moralists have attempted to define Ethics: for whether 
 the appeal be to sympathies, conscience, the moral sense, 
 the fitness of things, or other bases, they all find some 
 counterpart in this broad exposition of Plato, which he 
 branches into endless ramifications as to their application. 
 One thing is clear, lie resolves them eventually into con¬ 
 science, founding this innate principle, as the law of morals, 
 upon the law of nature; which law again he ascribes as an 
 effect of an eternal law which he calls sacred, and evidently 
 assigns to the Deity. The conclusion conforms precisely 
 
438 
 
 History of Ethics: 
 
 with the great principle of Socrates; who associated indis¬ 
 solubly the maxims which were fitted for the regulation of 
 human conduct with “ sublime conceptions respecting the 
 character and government of the Supreme Being; and 
 called the first principles of virtuous conduct, which are 
 common to all mankind—laws of God, from which,” he says, 
 *' no man departs with impunity.” Conscience, or the moral 
 sense, seems to have been the rule established by Socrates ; 
 and to this point, the elaborate and extended details of Plato 
 visibly converge. 
 
 With this great master the different sects substantially 
 agree. Aristotle, when his sentiments are disengaged from 
 his logical and metaphysical subtilties, seems to divide 
 virtue into two parts, theoretical and practical, the one 
 exercising the understanding, the other tending to the 
 active pursuit of that which is right and good, happiness 
 being the end, and consisting in conformity to virtue. We 
 arrive at the same conclusion—happiness the object; con¬ 
 science and reason, allied and exercised, the rule of 
 morals. 
 
 The Stoics traced morals to conformity to nature, and 
 contended that circumstances had nothing to do with hap¬ 
 piness—that pain was therefore no evil—that all external 
 things were indifferent, for virtue was itself happiness. 
 However preposterous is the argument, and untrue, as it 
 violates the law of nature, by which man is so constituted 
 as to be affected necessarily by circumstances, the object 
 of morals is still the same—happiness. And what can be 
 intended by conformity to nature, as the means of securing 
 this happiness, which they represent as but another name 
 for virtue, unless they believed that in nature a law was 
 written, call it conscience, or moral sense, or by whatever 
 other name may be preferred? Thus resolving, in effect, the 
 rule into that assumed by Socrates, as well as agreeing 
 with him in the object. 
 
 Widely removed as Epicurus appeared to be from the 
 Stoics, he agreed in fact both as to the end of morals, and 
 the means. Pleasure was with him but another term for 
 happiness; since his pleasure professedly, and in respect of 
 himself practically, consisted in virtue. His followers, who 
 so grossly abused his system, and have attached such un¬ 
 merited dishonour to his name, should have rather arranged 
 themselves under the banners of Aristippus, who, while he 
 employed the term happiness, meant only pleasure, and 
 referred pleasure to sensuality ; with Protagoras, with 
 
439 
 
 
 A Lecture , by the Rev. Dr. Collyer. 
 
 Pyrrho, and those other atomists, who taught that the dis¬ 
 tinctions between virtue and vice are arbitrary—that nothing 
 is just or unjust in itself—that every thing depends upon 
 human laws—and is in its own nature perfectly indifferent 
 —and that to gratify himself, in whatever way his passions 
 may stimulate him, is the only good of man. These 
 abominable sentiments (for may we not so characterize 
 them, when the very being of society is endangered by 
 their adoption ?) have been charged upon Epicurus, and 
 his memory loaded with a reproach, which it has borne 
 from century to century, but which belonged to another, and 
 totally distinct party. These, too, are the conclusions to 
 which the plausible, but dangerous doctrine of expediency 
 will lead, if the principle be practically admitted, and 
 honestly acted upon ; and it would not be difficult to trace 
 the analogy which actually subsists between a creed which 
 avows the absolute indifference of right and wrong, and one 
 which refers it to human passions and interests, to decide 
 upon what is most expedient to the individual, who, con¬ 
 stituted his own judge, will draw his inferences irrespective 
 of society, according to the cupidity of his own imaginary 
 interests or pleasures. 
 
 The Eclectic philosophers professed to take what was 
 excellent from the various schools, without respect of party; 
 and to combine into one grand system, the labours and 
 opinions of those who preceded them, so far as these were 
 conformable to truth and nature. But the execution of this 
 design did not correspond with its pretensions: and it has 
 been well observed, while they combined the dogmas of 
 Aristotle and Zeno with the extravagance of the East, pro¬ 
 fessing to found their general principles upon Plato, that 
 “ they added nothing to the purity of Plato’s ethics; and 
 “ they increased the obscurity and mysticism of his phy- 
 “ sics and metaphysics.” 
 
 I will only add, respecting the Stoics, that as they held but 
 one substance in the universe, whether active or passive— 
 as they called the active principle God —in making virtue 
 consist in conformity to nature, they in effect agreed with 
 those who lay, as the basis of morals, conformity to the 
 Divine Will. In fine, Warburton has characterized the 
 leaders of the Grecian sects of philosophers, w ith more ac¬ 
 curacy than has sometimes been admitted, when he styled 
 Plato the advocate of moral sense; Aristotle, of essential 
 differences ; and Zeno, of arbitrary will. The Academics 
 and Stoics seem to divide the ancient moral w'orld between 
 
440 
 
 History of Ethics: 
 
 them; while their contiguous boundaries discover how much 
 they were once one, ranging under their mighty monarch 
 Socrates. He was in the philosophical world what Alexander 
 was in the political. The last subdued until no more re¬ 
 mained to conquer, and when he died, left no hand sufficiently 
 powerful to grasp the sceptre of his universal monarchy, 
 composed of discordant elements, which he alone had the 
 power to control and the skill to blend: when he expired, 
 nis empire was broken into fragments, and divided among 
 his captains. So, when Socrates fell, his distinguished dis¬ 
 ciples, unable to retain the imperial authority which he had 
 exercised over morals—a department so exclusively his own, 
 that he seemed to have been created for it—each took the por¬ 
 tion which his own genius or studies preferred, and while the 
 separations became visible, they were not so formidable as 
 to destroy the evidence that the whole had been once un- 
 divided. To the Academics, we attach the illustrious name 
 of Cicero; and to the Stoics, the no less glorious title of 
 Epictetus. Ihe writings of these extraordinary men will not 
 fail to impress upon us that respect and reverence, which 
 we ought to bear to the ancients in regard to morals, what¬ 
 ever might be their mistakes on other subjects, and will 
 fully justify our modern writers on Ethics, in rallying round 
 one or other of these great masters, who differed in1;he de¬ 
 tail, but united in the aggregate. 
 
 It is now that I feel all the difficulty of my undertaking, 
 especially in connexion with the present Lecture, and I have 
 more than ever repented that I did not make it what I had 
 originally intended, a mere continuation of the history of 
 morals. For a general examination of the various bases of 
 morals assumed by different writers, obliges me to give a 
 summary of systems, no inconsiderable volumes in them¬ 
 selves, each of which demands to be examined at still 
 greater length; and this at the hazard of mistakino- or mis¬ 
 representing men, who, on such a subject, ought to be heard 
 for themselves, and to speak their own language. I have, 
 however, undertaken, and must accomplish my engagement 
 as well as I am able : nor shall 1 trust wholly to my own in¬ 
 vestigation of these theories, but suffer myself to be guided 
 by those who have more deeply studied, who more fully ap¬ 
 prehend, and who are more capable of accurately represent¬ 
 ing them. r 
 
 Of the system of Hobbes there can be no danger of mis- 
 lepiesentation. It is scarcely possible to make any state- 
 .ment relative to it, at all varying from the original principles. 
 
441 
 
 A Lecture, by the Rev. Dr. Collyer. 
 
 which must not be considered an improvement. He adopted 
 without scruple, and to all the length of their licentious 
 tendency, the opinions (for who can call them principles?) 
 of Protagoras; and affirmed that the laws of every state are 
 the proper and only criteria of right and wrong; that man 
 is to be restrained only within positive institutions by the 
 penalties of their enactments, and that the whole being a 
 system of convention, and (shall I say?) expediency, the 
 characters of good and evil, ciphers in themselves, gather 
 their importance exclusively from the law. It would be 
 gross injustice to the advocate of such a palpably mischie¬ 
 vous system, not to state, that the evil was found in his sys¬ 
 tem exclusively, for that its framer was a man of unim¬ 
 peached character; and any severity of expression is 
 intended in this, as in every similar instance, for the 
 system, and not for its author. Corrupt theories are, 
 however, more dangerous in their influence, as they ema¬ 
 nate from men of amiable tempers and irreproachable con¬ 
 duct: and while the individuals are treated with the 
 respect and consideration due to their personal virtues, it 
 becomes more obviously our duty not to spare their per¬ 
 nicious systems. 
 
 Cudworth demonstrated, on the contrary, that moral 
 principles are not to be derived from human institutions, 
 but are founded in human nature. He refers to the under¬ 
 standing, as the power by which the discriminations of right 
 and wrong are to be made; and combined this sentiment 
 with the Platonic tenet, that all knowledge was a kind of 
 reminiscence. The objection against this system, besides 
 Platonic mysticism, lies in the fact, that our moral errors 
 scarcely ever originate in ignorance of duty, but from other 
 causes, not connected with the understanding. Dr. Price, 
 therefore, agreeing with Cudworth, that the sanctions of 
 morality arise out of the reason, refers our notions of right 
 and wrong, “ not to a deductive process of the under¬ 
 standing, but to immediate intuition.” The objection 
 here will lie in the indefinite sense in which the term 
 reason is employed, and the various notions, distinct, and 
 even opposite in themselves, which he assigns to this 
 faculty. 
 
 Dr. Clarke, Mr. Wollaston, and Lord Shaftesbury, may 
 all be considered of this school; resolving moral approba¬ 
 tion into “ sense of propriety acting according to the fitness 
 and congruity which appear in certain relations of nature,” 
 or, “ agreeably to the truth of things in their proper nature,” 
 
442 
 
 History of Ethics: 
 
 or, according to the latter, “ in reason preserving a proper 
 balance of the affections.” The answer to all this appears 
 to be, that the system, however modified, which founds the 
 principle of Ethics upon the understanding, or perception 
 of the fitness of things, would require, as its fair deduction, 
 that the most intelligent should also be the most moral man; 
 which is assuredly contradicted by the experience of every 
 day; and demands that we should refer to something beyond 
 merely mental powers and intellectual perceptions, as a 
 foundation of morals. Besides which, if this law could ever 
 a PP ] y wiFh certainty, it could only do so partially, not only 
 a? “ respects the varying faculties of individuals, but the 
 different circumstances of culture in which man is placed. 
 Morals require an universal law, being of universal obliga¬ 
 tion: but a capacity to judge of the fitness of this, must 
 depend, not merely, for its proportions, upon original mental 
 power, but upon the extent of intellectual cultivation : and 
 still further upon the actual state of society: a rule of this 
 description, applying to a state of civilization, would be of 
 little avail, if not totally inapplicable, to the savage, who is 
 nevertheless, in point of fact, as man, the subject of moral 
 
 Dr. Hutcheson, in referring the origin of our ideas of right 
 and wrong to a moral sense, illustrates its action by comparing 
 it with the operation of the senses : but if virtues be but sensa- 
 10 ns, they are not permanent in their nature: and it has been 
 well observed, that “ sensations merely relate to the mind 
 in which they exist, and have no permanent connexion with 
 
 .°fj. e ? ts ‘ The conclusions of a sceptical nature, 
 which might be drawn, and have been drawn, by Mr. Hume 
 from this system are not authorized by Dr. Hutcheson 
 but it is an objection to his system, that it cannot be suffi¬ 
 ciently guarded against them. Mr. Hume lias framed out 
 of it one of utility which will lead to expediency, and 
 this again to indulgences without character, and with- 
 out limit. Nor does the celebrated theory of Smith, resolv- 
 
 whn not ! on ? into sympathy, escape wholly the power of 
 this whirlpooi-it pkys too much about the circumference 
 not to lead us to fear its approximation to the vortex. Dr’ 
 utler always admirable in whatever lie reasons upon, and 
 Di. Reid, appear to settle down upon conscience as not n 
 perfect law, but the most determinate within our’reach as 
 ansing simply from nature. Whether any law of nature 
 
 Re"d T? th ° SUb K is an °ther y qur s tion Dr! 
 
 says. The sum of what has been said in this 
 
443 
 
 A Lecture , by the Rev. Dr. Collyer. 
 
 chapter* is, that, by an original power of the mind, which 
 we call conscience , or the moral faculty, we have the 
 conceptions of right and wrong in human conduct; of 
 merit and demerit, of duty and moral obligation, and our 
 other moral conceptions ; and that, by the same faculty, 
 we perceive some tilings in human conduct to be right, and 
 others to be wrong: that the first principles of morals are 
 the dictates of this faculty; and that we have the same 
 reason to rely upon those dictates, as upon the determina¬ 
 tions of our senses, or of our other natural faculties.” 
 
 To close this general review of the various bases assumed 
 by different writers, suffer me to relate an anecdote relative 
 to Sir J. Pringle.f “ In Mr. de Luc’s letters on Religious 
 Education, (published in 1800), a conversation is detailed 
 between the author and Sir John Pringle, who had formerly 
 been Professor of Moral Philosophy' in the University of 
 Edinburgh. Mr. de Luc was talking of a new work on the 
 subject of morality founded upon nature, which had just 
 been published, and which he offered to procure for Sir 
 John’s perusal. This, he says, the Baronet refused in a 
 tone which could not be expressed. * I have been,’ said he, 
 ‘ for many years professor of this pretended science ; I had 
 ransacked the libraries and my own brain, to discover the 
 foundation of it; but the more I sought to persuade and con¬ 
 vince my pupils, the less confidence I began to have myself, 
 in what I was teaching them; so that at length I gave up 
 my profession, and returned to medicine, which had been 
 the first object of my studies. I have, nevertheless, con¬ 
 tinued from time to time, to examine every thing that ap¬ 
 peared upon this subject, which, as I have told you, I could 
 never explain or teach, so as to produce conviction: but, at 
 length, I have given up the point, most thoroughly assured, 
 that without an express divine sanction attached to the laws 
 of morality, and without positive laws, accompanied with 
 determinate and urgent motives, men will never be con¬ 
 vinced that they ought to submit to any such code, nor 
 agree among themselves concerning it. From that time, I 
 have never read any work upon morality but the Bible, and 
 I return to that always with fresh delight.’”L 
 To sum up the whole,—A considerable approximation of the 
 various systems to each other, is to be discovered in ancient 
 and modern times; and the bases of morals, however appa¬ 
 rently differing, if closely examined, will be found to 
 
 * Reid on the Active Powers of Man, Essay iii. c. G. 
 
 f Classical Journal. Vol. ix. No. xvii. p. 7G. 
 
444 
 
 History of Ethics. 
 
 assimilate beyond our first expectations. The Happiness 
 of Plato, and the Pleasure of Epicurus, were but different 
 names for one thing. The love of virtue for itself advanced 
 by that sage, and The admiration of what is beautiful, fit, and 
 proper, contended for by Shaftesbury, and others of that 
 school, strikingly coalesce. The law of Conscience, assumed 
 by Epictetus, and the Moral Sense of Cudworth and his 
 followers, have a common source. Again, we look with 
 veneration to Socrates, who made God the author, conscience 
 the law, and happiness the end, of morals. 
 
 There are evidences which lie beyond the reach of argu¬ 
 ment, as conclusive and irresistible as they are indefinable. 
 When Sterne burst into tears, under the influence of a sen¬ 
 sibility irrepressibly excited by human misery—he said, “ I 
 am positive I have a soul, and all the materialists in the 
 universe shall not persuade me to the contrary.” It was 
 not a time to argue, but the proof was demonstrative. We may 
 distract our attention with metaphysical disquisitions, with¬ 
 out obtaining satisfaction; we may contend respecting the 
 bases of morals, without coming to any certain conclusion; 
 but morals themselves are eternal and immutable, and the 
 homage due to them lies deeply implanted in the human 
 heart. What but this, when the heiress of the British 
 throne expired, caused the tears of the nation to flow? We 
 beheld personal loveliness, conjugal affections, constitu¬ 
 tional principles, moral excellencies, blossoming around us 
 like another Eden. Death came, like the blast of the 
 desert, and these flowers of Paradise all withered at once. 
 The waste of desolation which then spread around us, in 
 place of this garden of delights—the sense which we then 
 had of this melancholy change—the deep anguish which 
 we then felt—the unfeigned sorrow which we cherished— 
 the bitter tears which we dropped upon the wilderness and 
 the solitude, were evidences beyond all arguments, of the 
 reality of morals, and of the inestimable character which we 
 spontaneously assign to them, wherever they exist, as they 
 flourished in Britain’s lost and lamented child! 
 
 Thoughts on the Slaying of the Witnesses. 
 
 (In a Letter addressed to a Friend.) 
 
 [The following judicious Letter has been transmitted to us by a 
 triend ot the \V riter s, to whose request for its appearance in our 
 pages we yield a cheerful compliance.- Edit.] 
 
 Dear Friend,— The Slaying of the Witnesses, foretold 
 Uev. xi., and the lying of their dead bodies for three days 
 
445 
 
 Thoughts on the Slaying of the Witnesses. 
 
 and a half in the streets of the great city, must be intended 
 as a representation of the Christian church in her lowest 
 estate -when most prevailed against by her enemies, and nearest 
 to utter extinction. Before this, the witnesses are alive, 
 though prophesying in sackcloth ; but now they are dead, 
 and their enemies greatly rejoice and triumph over them. 
 1 here have been till of late, and perhaps there may be at 
 present, some learned men of opinion, that the low estate of 
 the church, represented by the slaying of the witnesses, is 
 not yet come ; and that the Christian church before the 
 commencement of the Millennium, is to be reduced to a 
 state of greater wretchedness than ever. For my own part, 
 however, I am fully satisfied with the reasonings of the late 
 President Edwards, (see his Works, vol.ii. p. 496,) intended 
 to piove, that the slaying of the witnesses is a representation 
 ol the dark time just preceding the Reformation. How 
 awfully wretched was this period! What a scarcity of bibles! 
 And how few were able to read and understand them! The 
 Waldenses and Albigenses, among whom the true church had 
 existed for many ages, were fully conquered, so that there 
 was scarcely any visible remains of the Christian church to 
 be found in any part of the w’orld ! The emissaries of Rome, 
 traversing all the countries of Europe, for the diabolical 
 purpose of selling indulgences, &c. Antichrist at this time, 
 seemed to be seated upon an immoveable throne, without any 
 fear of being again opposed. But, lo ! from the very midst 
 of this ten-fold darkness, the holy flame of the Reformation 
 bursts forth almost at once amongst the nations of Europe. 
 A natural resurrection from the dead could not have been 
 less expected, or have displayed, to an enlightened mind, a 
 stronger demonstration of the power of God. If we consi¬ 
 der the state of |the world at present—the rapid increase of 
 knowledge in general—the unexampled efforts, and wonder¬ 
 ful success, of Bible Societies—the labours and zeal of the 
 numerous friends and supporters of Missionary, Tract, and 
 Education Societies, &c.—If we take a general survey, and 
 consider the present state of mankind, does it not appear 
 impossible that such ignorance, superstition, and barbarism, 
 should again prevail, as did prevail in the dark ages before 
 the Reformation? Is it not utterly impossible to bring 
 about such a change in so short a time? It could not be 
 done without a miracle. 
 
 Although there are many things relating to the time and 
 manner of the fulfilment of the promises enveloped in dark- 
 
446 Thoughts on the Slaying of the Witnesses. 
 
 ness, I firmly think we may rest assured, that the melan¬ 
 choly state of the church, signified by the slaying of the 
 witnesses, is already past, and that the blessed kingdom of 
 our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ is to be progressive , till 
 the knowledge of him shall fill the earth as the waters cover 
 the seas. 
 
 It is agreed, that the time allotted for the witnesses to 
 prophesy in sackcloth is 1260 years, and that at the end of 
 their prophesying, they were to be slain. But learned men 
 have greatly disagreed respecting the period when we are 
 to fix the beginning of the 1260 years. When did the time, 
 times, and half a lime—the 42 months, and the 1260 days, (all 
 signifying 1260 years,) begin? When was the woman 
 obliged to fly into the wilderness, (Rev. xii.) and when did 
 the two witnesses begin their prophesying in sackcloth ? For 
 my own part, I think that Paul has given us a sure clue to 
 fix this time, 2Thess. ii. 7, 8. “ For the mystery of iniquity 
 doth already work; only he which now letteth will let, until 
 he be taken out of the way, and then shall that Wicked 
 be revealed.” I believe it is agreed, that what the apostle 
 referred to, as the let or liinderance of the man of sin, was 
 the pagan imperial power, which would not suffer ecclesiasti¬ 
 cal power to grow to an exorbitant height. The man of sin 
 could not shew himself, while this power continued at Rome ; 
 but as soon as this liinderance should be removed, the 
 wicked one was to be revealed. We all know that this 
 event took place just at the beginning of the fourth century, 
 when our countryman, Constantine the Great, who professed* 
 himself a Christian, was advanced to the imperial dignity. 
 By attending to the history of the church immediately after 
 the time of Constantine, we discover the man of sin appear¬ 
 ing in a most appalling and terrific form. 
 
 “Whether the conversion of Constantine, commonly 
 called the Great,” says an elegant author, “ was effected 
 by political motives,, by public expedience, or by serious 
 conviction, may be fairly questioned. To whatever cause 
 that event may be attributed, it was under his govern¬ 
 ment, that Christianity became the religion of the empire. 
 It was now that the divine plan was abandoned for one 
 of man’s invention. That system, which was once like 
 the tree of God,—beautiful for its foliage, and loaded 
 with fiuit, which was a blessing to the world, became a 
 feeble sickly parasytical plant, that weakly leans upon 
 foreign support, while it mars the beauty, and paralyzes 
 
447 
 
 Thoughts on the Staying of the Witnesses. 
 
 the energies, of the parent trunk. What the church now 
 gained in wealth and power, she lost in purity, simplicity, 
 and teivent devotion ;—what she gained in pomp and parade, 
 she lost in spirituality. The worship which once was dis¬ 
 tinguished foi its plainness, was now exchanged for forms 
 and ceremonies, and bodily exercise which profiteth little. 
 Lordly revenues were appropriated to the support of the 
 ministry of the word, and the humble ministers of the 
 primitive gospel were succeeded in office by lordly priests, 
 who fettered the consciences, and made merchandise of the 
 souls, of men. lhe discipline of the church became a mere 
 engine of temporal power, and an authority thus crept in, 
 totally unknown before, and ill adapted to the spirit and 
 principles of a kingdom which is ‘ not of this world/ ”* 
 
 Now if we date the commencement of the 1260 years, 
 about the beginning of the fourth century, their end must 
 have been in the sixteenth century , which was famous for the 
 Reformation. 
 
 I am inclined to think that there are three grand periods 
 described in the book of Revelation previous to the com- 
 menceinent of the Millennium. The Jirst commencing about 
 the day of Pentecost, and continuing till the time of Con¬ 
 stantine. During this period, the church, although in a 
 prosperous state, is grievously persecuted by the pagan 
 powers. The second period commences at the time of Con¬ 
 stantine, continues for about 1260 years, and ends about 
 the time of the Reformation, in the tenth century. In this 
 period the church is in the wilderness, greatly oppressed by 
 the antichristian power. The third period commences at 
 the time of the Reformation, and ends at the utter fall of 
 Babylon, and the commencement of the Millennium. The 
 length of this period does not seem to be particularly speci¬ 
 fied 5 but it must be very evident to the attentive reader, 
 that the resurrection of the witnesses is not the commence¬ 
 ment of the Millennium. At the resurrection of the wit¬ 
 nesses it is said, “ There was a great earthquake, and the 
 tenth part of the city fell, and in the earthquake were slain 
 of men ten thousand.” But how different is this from the 
 description that is given of the titter destruction of the city 
 in the xvi. xvii. and xviii. of the Revelation? In the first 
 
 * Sec an Introductory Discourse, delivered at Newcastle, in Staf¬ 
 fordshire, Oct. 10,1811, at the Ordination of the Rev. Thos. Sleigh, 
 by the late Rev. William Evans, of Stockport. Also, Formey’s’ 
 Ecclesiastical History, Vol. I. page 70. 
 
448 Thoughts on the Slaying of the Witnesses. 
 
 period, the man of sin is conceived, but not born. In the 
 second, the monster is bom, and makes his terrific appear¬ 
 ance, and grows in strength and power till he seems to have 
 all the world under his dominion. In the third period we 
 see the decline of the man of sin. At its very commence¬ 
 ment he receives his mortal wound, and then one plague after 
 another is poured upon him, till he is utterly destroyed. 
 To the first period, seems to belong, the opening of the seven 
 seals ,—to the second, the sounding of 'the seven trumpets ,—and 
 to the third, the pouring out of the seven vials. But it seems 
 that the opening of the seventh seal, is introductory to the 
 sounding of the trumpets; the sounding of the seventh 
 trumpet, introductory to the pouring out of the vials; and 
 the pouring out of the seventh vial, introductory to the 
 Millennium. 
 
 It is not easy, perhaps, to determine with certainty, what 
 vial is running out at the present day. It is said that “the 
 sixth angel poured out his vial upon the great river 
 Euphrates, and the water thereof was dried up, that the way 
 of the kings of the east might be prepared.” llev. xvi. 12. 
 There is evidently an allusion, here, to the taking of the city 
 of Babylon. It was by means of drying up the bed of the 
 river Euphrates, that Cyrus prevailed against and conquered 
 the city. The pouring out, therefore, of the vial on the 
 great river Euphrates, as President Edwards observes, must 
 intend some energetic preparations for the taking of the 
 spiritual Babylon. And are there not noiv, my friend, ex¬ 
 traordinary preparations made for the taking of the city? Is 
 it not probable, at least, that the sixth vial is rapidly running 
 out, and that the pouring out of the seventh vial into the air 
 (denoting universality) is soon to follow, when the great 
 voice out of the temple of heaven, from the throne, shall be 
 heard, saying, “It is done.” 
 
 The hope that the above remarks may afford you some 
 degree of profit and pleasure, will abundantly remunerate, 
 for the little trouble of writing them. 
 
 Believe me, 
 
 My dear friend, 
 
 Your affectionate fellow-labourer in the Gospel, 
 
 John Roberts. 
 
 Llanbryrmair, Sept. 9th. 1824. 
 
 » 
 
 
449 
 
 REVIEW. 
 
 Jerusalem Delivered. An Epic Poem in 20 Cantos. Trans¬ 
 lated into English Spenserian Verse, from the Italian of 
 Tasso, S)'c. %c. By J. H. Wiffen. In two vols. Royal, 
 8 vo. Vol. 1. London, Hurst, Robinson, and Co. pp.619! 
 
 Perhaps there never was an age or a country in which so 
 much eagerness has been displayed in the cultivation of 
 science, nor so much anxiety exhibited for its promotion 
 and encouragement, as in our own. The human mind, 
 emancipated at length from the shackles of custom and of 
 prejudice, seems determined to re-assert its independence, 
 and to make up by the vigour of its present exertions for 
 the inglorious slumbers of past ages. Science is placed 
 upon its proper footing—first principles have been diligently 
 sought, and when ascertained, have been carefully recorded 
 as the foundation of future discoveries. Theories, which 
 were once sufficiently upheld by a name, have been referred 
 to the test of experiment; and none have been permitted to 
 stand, but such as have been confirmed and supported by 
 the unerring testimony of fact. To whatever point of the 
 horizon we direct our attention, we shall find that all is 
 bustle and activity—life and animation. New schemes are 
 perpetually producing, new discoveries are continually 
 making, fresh candidates, in every department, are pre¬ 
 senting themselves for the meed of public fame and favour. 
 Competition calls forth talent, and emulation provokes 
 excellence. On all sides we hear of literary achievements, 
 almost any one of which would have been enough to illus¬ 
 trate and distinguish a former age. To what does all this 
 tend ? Doubtless to the reproduction of a golden era, in 
 which liberty and knowledge shall diffuse themselves, and 
 thus spread happiness over the face of the earth; when 
 religious, and political, and intellectual tyranny shall give 
 place to unbounded freedom of thought, and the wide world 
 will become a vast arena, for the exhibition of all that is 
 noble and manly in nature. We do not, however, by these 
 observations, intend to depreciate the ages that are past, 
 nor to assert an absolute monopoly in our own of all that is 
 rare and excellent; we only mean to maintain, that the 
 energies of the human mind are in more robust and lively 
 exercise at the present period than they ever were before. 
 We are, undoubtedly, highly indebted to those who have 
 
450 
 
 Review .—W iffen’s 
 
 preceded us, for the immense hoards of learning which they 
 have amassed, and of which we are now reaping the benefit; 
 but we are more especially indebted to those enlightened 
 sages who first gave liberty to inquiry, and taught us the 
 true methods of thinking. Nor are we so vain of the age 
 in which we live, as to suppose that all its labours bear upon 
 them the stamp of immortality, or that the inexhaustible 
 fountains of knowledge are likely to be drained by the 
 thirst of the present generation. We are quite aware that 
 much of this prodigious birth of literature is but ephemeral, 
 and that a small portion only of the mighty mass is destined 
 to inherit perennial fame. Many things that are now known 
 will again be neglected and forgotten; much of what is now 
 believed will be again exploded; posterity will laugh at 
 some of our absurdities and prejudices, as we have laughed 
 at those of our ancestors; and the race that is to come, 
 availing themselves of the labours of those that have gone 
 before them, will in all probability reach a much higher 
 point of perfection than we can ever hope to attain. 
 
 In an age thus devoted to science and literature, it may 
 seem to some to be not a little remarkable that poetry should 
 be found flourishing in such extreme profusion. It might 
 have been thought that the reasoning faculty in a state of 
 maturity would have poured contempt upon the vagaries 
 of fancy, as fit exercise and amusement only for the vacant 
 mind, and that it would have deprecated the cultivation of 
 an art so little profitable, as it has been said, if it be not 
 absolutely pernicious to society. Reason, however, has 
 not been hitherto able to effect this revolution in the tastes 
 of mankind, and in all likelihood it never will: but it has 
 nevertheless done much to curb the licenses of fiction, to 
 check its excesses, to restrain its absurdities within the 
 bounds of decorum, and to encourage more rational 
 species of poetry addressed to the head and to the heart, 
 through the medium of ordinary circumstances and probable 
 incidents: and while circumscribed within these limits, we 
 can see no greater objection to the art of poetry, than to 
 any other. We certainly should not exclude it from our 
 Utopia, since we can perceive no good reason why each and 
 all the faculties and tastes of our nature should not receive 
 their appropriate encouragement and gratification; not to 
 insist upon what we are yet inclined to believe, that poetry, 
 like eloquence, under proper management and in proper 
 hands, might become again what it frequently has been 
 already, a powerful engine for the promotion of virtue, and 
 
Jerusalem Delivered. 
 
 451 
 
 an acting incentive to deeds of generosity and of patriotism. 
 That such were the primitive objects of poetry, there can 
 be no doubt, and though she soon became degraded to 
 meaner, and often to the basest purposes, condescending 
 even to become the handmaid of superstition and of vice; 
 yet her divine original should not be forgotten. Possessing 
 the power of delighting mankind, she may well be employed 
 as the auxiliary of virtue; and when deprived of her mere¬ 
 tricious attractions, and her false ornaments, and stripped 
 of all her splendid machineries, her apparatus of gods and 
 of angels, of nymphs and of daemons, with all her phantasma¬ 
 goria of unseen and unknown worlds, she may, in this en¬ 
 lightened age, yet find ample scope for the display of her 
 powers, and ample resources within the regions of proba¬ 
 bility, among the beautiful realities of nature, and inex¬ 
 haustible varieties of human character, to instruct, to elevate, 
 and to delight. Whatever cause we may assign for the fact, 
 it is certain that the age is not less prolific in poets than in 
 scientific writers, nor is it wonderful that amidst the mul¬ 
 titudes who are aspiring after celebrity, those whose imagi¬ 
 nations are fertile should avail themselves of this su¬ 
 periority, as a means of rising into honourable notice. No 
 class of writers, in short, have been more strenuous in 
 their efforts to obtain the popular favour. Their labours 
 have been so multifarious, their pretensions have been fre¬ 
 quently so nicely balanced, and their demands upon our 
 attention so clamorous, that we have often felt ourselves 
 under the necessity of waving our claim to decide upon their 
 respective merits, from an inability to do justice to all, and 
 an unwillingness to give needless offence to any. 
 
 Yet among this host of competitors, our eyes have still 
 been fixed upon a few, whose superior elevation of stature, 
 and more decided dignity of deportment, distinguish them 
 from the crowd by which they are surrounded, and in their 
 gradual approaches towards perfection, we have always 
 taken and do still take a very lively interest. To these we 
 feel ourselves bound to devote our particular attention, at 
 the risk even of offending the rest of their fraternity. We 
 need say no more as an apology for the introduction of an 
 old friend Mr. Wiffen, whose works, as well original as 
 translated, have already acquired for him the notice and 
 approbation of the public. It will be recollected by many 
 of our readers, that this gentleman published, some time 
 ago, a prospectus of the splendid work that lies now before 
 us, which he prefaced by a dissertation, intended to shew 
 
 VOL. viii.— no, 4. 2 i 
 
452 
 
 Review.-*- Wiffen’s 
 
 the necessity of a new translation of this wonderful Poem. 
 We were quite satisfied of the propriety of a fresh attempt, 
 from the arguments contained in that dissertation, and we 
 were convinced, from the specimens he gave us, of his 
 competency to do more complete justice to the immortal 
 poet than had been rendered him by any preceding English 
 translator. We have therefore anxiously awaited the pub¬ 
 lication of the volume which now makes its appearance, nor 
 have we been disappointed in our expectations. It is 
 
 { printed by Moyes, in his most admirable style, and embel- 
 ished with a beautiful portrait of Tasso, and with wood 
 engravings, richly executed, illustrative of the story of the 
 poem. On opening the book, we were struck with the 
 elegance that characterizes the whole concern: the type is 
 uncommonly fine, and the eye reposes with perfect satisfac¬ 
 tion upon the page. It is evident that the author must have 
 been at very great expense, to have produced a work so ex¬ 
 tremely finished in all its parts. It is dedicated to the 
 Duchess of Bedford in the following beautiful stanzas:— 
 
 I. 
 
 Years have flown o’er since first my soul aspired 
 In song the sacred Missal to repeat, 
 
 Which sainted Tasso writ with pen inspired— 
 
 Told is my rosary, and the task complete: 
 
 And now, ’twixt hope and fear, with toil untired, 
 
 I cast the’ ambrosial relique at thy feet; 
 
 Not without faith that in thy goodness thou 
 Wilt deign one smile to my accomplished vow. 
 
 II. 
 
 Not in dim dungeons to the clank of chains, 
 
 Like sad Torquato’s, have the hours been spent 
 Given to the song, but in bright halls where reigns 
 Uncumbered Freedom,—with a mind unbent 
 By walks in woods, green dells, and pastoral plains, 
 
 To sound, far-off, of village merriment; 
 
 Albeit, perchance, some springs whence Tasso drew 
 His sweetest tones have touched my spirit too 
 
 III. 
 
 O that as happier constellations bless 
 
 My studious life, my verses too could boast 
 Some happier graces, (should I wish for less?) 
 
 To’ atone for charms unseized and splendours lost!— 
 
 No! the grand rainbow mocks the child’s caress. 
 
 Who can but sorrow, as his fancy’s crossed. 
 
 That e’er so beautiful a thing should rise. 
 
 To’ elude his grasp, yet so enchant his eyes. 
 
Jerusalem Delivered. 
 
 453 
 
 IV. 
 
 On the majestic Sorrentine I gazed 
 
 With a familiar joy—methought he smiled; 
 
 But now the vigil’s past, I stand amazed 
 At the conceit, and sorrow like the child. 
 
 What second hand can paint the scenes that blazed 
 In Tasso’s brain with tints as sweet and wild? 
 
 As much the shapes that on his canvass glow 
 Their birth to Frenzy as to Genius owe. 
 
 V. 
 
 ^et may I hope o’er generous minds to cast 
 A faint reflection of his matchless skill, 
 
 For here his own Sophronia, unaghast, 
 
 Flings firm defiance to her tyrant still,— 
 
 Clorinda bleeds, lovelorn Erminia fast 
 
 Hies through the forest at her steed’s wild will; 
 
 And in these pages still Armida’s charms 
 Strike the rapt heart, and wake a world to arms. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Thus then, O Lady, with thy name I grace 
 The glorious fable; fitly, since to thee 
 And thine the thanks are due, that in the face 
 Of time and toil, the Poet’s devotee 
 Has raised the’ enchanted structure on its base, 
 
 And to thy hand now yields the’ unclosing key.— 
 
 Blest if in one bright intellect like thine 
 
 He wins regard, and builds himself a shrine! [p. iii.—vi.] 
 
 Both the Preface and the Life of Tasso are uncommonly 
 interesting. They are written in a very rich and musical 
 style, approaching as nearly in their construction to the 
 Italian model as the genius of our language would permit. 
 We are only sorry that our engagements and our limits will 
 not allow us to do more than merely advertise our readers 
 of the pleasure they may expect to derive from the perusal 
 of the Life. We believe it to be by far the most correct ac¬ 
 count that has been published in any language. The author 
 has taken the greatest pains to clear up the difficult passages 
 of the eventful story, and by a diligent comparison of 
 various records, as w'ell as from the internal evidence of 
 Tasso’s own writings, he lias undoubtedly established the 
 certainty of the poet’s secret and ardent, though most un¬ 
 fortunate, attachment to the Princess Leonora of Este, as 
 w r eli as the disgraceful conduct of her brother the reigning 
 Duke of Ferrara, beyond all controversy. The reader will 
 perceive from the following extract what trouble the author 
 has taken to elucidate these topics, and we shall be greatly 
 
454 
 
 Review .—W iffen’s 
 
 disappointed if this delightful piece of biography does not 
 obtain his entire approbation. 
 
 “ The life (says Mr. Widen) prefixed to the Poem, will, I trust, 
 be found to shed some additional lights on the subject of Tasso’s 
 love for the Princess Leonora. Materials for this memoir were so 
 abundant, that the greatest difficulty was to select and to compress. 
 The biographical work of Manso was, it is well known, written some 
 years after the poet’s death, and having known Tasso only in the 
 last years of his life, his accounts of the early and most interest¬ 
 ing portion of it, are often exaggerated and without foundation. 
 It seemed preferable, therefore, to follow in the main the details of 
 Serassi, whose volume bears throughout marks of the greatest re¬ 
 search, and who had at his command a vast number of original and 
 unedited documents. Dr. Black, however, in his elegant and 
 elaborate Life, whilst deriving from this source the bulk of his ma¬ 
 terials, has greatly elucidated some points which were left obscure 
 by Serassi, and in particular the history of that malady of mind 
 with which the poet was afflicted. I have accordingly made an 
 equal use of the English as of the Italian author, weighing well, 
 however, the statements of both on the long controverted questions 
 of the poet’s love and imprisonment. I had soon cause to acknow¬ 
 ledge, in the evident disguises which Serassi casts over Tasso’s 
 attachment, the justice of Dr. Black’s observation, ‘ that his 
 country, his profession, his prejudices, his fears, and perhaps his 
 hopes, all took from the Abbe that liberty of mind, without which 
 it was impossible to elucidate the truth;’ nothing, in fact, is more 
 apparent than that the truth has been concealed by him. Thou«h 
 avowedly sensible of this, the Doctor’s opinions on the point ale 
 coloured more deeply than one would expect by the Abbe’s repre¬ 
 sentations. I was satisfied with neither; but having been recom¬ 
 mended by the Sig. Foscolo to introduce translations of Tasso’s 
 lyric poetry, a superior edition of which he was so obliging as to 
 lend me, I found in the poet’s verses to Leonora, passages that 
 seemed greatly to elucidate the subject, and I have accordingly 
 drawn largely from this interesting source of information. The 
 conclusions which I formed from these passages, were afterwards 
 greatly confirmed by a perusal of Ginguene, in whom I discovered 
 a singular unison of sentiment, both with regard to Serassi’s dis- 
 mgenuousness and the poet’s ardent passion. With his arguments 
 accordingly I have strengthened my own, citing, however, in a 
 number of translated verses, proofs which even Ginguene seems 
 wholly to have overlooked. 
 
 Restricted as I was, I found it impossible to narrate more fully 
 the particulars of this great man’s life; less I could not say. It 
 was my wish to have added another volume to the work, consisting 
 of a selection from his smaller poems, which have been too much 
 neglected, as well as from his literary correspondence, valuable 
 alike to the poet and the philosopher, and deeply interesting to all, 
 
Jerusalem Delivered. 
 
 455 
 
 from the exhibition which it furnishes of one of the most ardent, 
 the most amiable, and, alas that I should say it! the most unhappy 
 minds, that ever existed to excite the pity and the admiration of 
 mankind. But so many instances have occurred to me of an 
 author s fatiguing- the public ear by too voluminously dwelling on 
 some favourite subject, that it has seemed preferable to wait for an 
 invitation to the task, rather than to be guilty of what might chance 
 to be considered an infliction on the public indulgence. Should 
 such a volume ever engage my attention, an account of the various 
 editions of the « Gerusalemme’ may find in it an appropriate place, 
 as y ,ell as of the unknown translation of Sir George Turberville, 
 which occupies in merit a middle station between those of Fairfax 
 and Carew. This I have ample means of illustrating, from my 
 short-hand transcript of the original MS. preserved in the Bodlean 
 library. Meanwhile those bibliographists who are desirous of 
 seeing a specimen of his powers as a translator, maybe referred to 
 
 Dr. Bliss s valuable addition to Wood’s ‘ Athenae Oxonienses.’”_ 
 
 [Preface, pp. x.—xiii.] 
 
 We will quote one of the translations from Tasso’s lyric 
 poetry, with which Mr. Wiffen has managed to elucidate 
 and render interesting the poet’s life. 
 
 TO LEONORA OF ESTE. 
 
 A l nobil colie, ove in anticlii marmi. 
 
 To the romantic hills where free 
 To thine enchanted eyes, 
 
 Works of Greek taste in statuary 
 Of antique marbles rise. 
 
 My thought, fair Leonora, roves, 
 
 And with it to their gloom of groves 
 Fast bears me as it flies; 
 
 For far from thee in crowds unblest, 
 
 My fluttering heart but ill can rest*. 
 
 There to the rock, cascade, and grove, 
 
 On mosses dropt with dew, 
 
 Like one who thinks and sighs of love f 
 The livelong summer through, 
 
 Oft would I dictate glorious things 
 Of heroes on the Tuscan strings 
 Of my sweet lyre, and to 
 The whispering brooks and trees around, 
 
 Ippolito’s high name resound. 
 
 * Che mal pub da voi lunge otnai f/uetarmi. 
 f Pur come uom, eke d’atnor pensa e sospira. 
 
456 
 
 Review. —Wiffen’s 
 
 But now what longer keeps me here. 
 
 And who, dear Lady, say, 
 
 O’er Alpine rocks and marshes drear, 
 
 A weary length of way, 
 
 Guides me to thee, so that enwreathed 
 With leaves by poesy bequeathed 
 From Daphne’s hallowed bay, 
 
 I trifle thus in song?—adieu! 
 
 Let the soft zephyr whisper who. 
 
 [Life of Tasso, p. Ii.] 
 
 In this critique, we think it altogether unnecessary to go 
 into the merits of the original poem; those merits are too 
 generally understood and too fully appreciated to require 
 any discussion here; the beauties of Tasso’s composition 
 are now universally recognized, while the cavils that were 
 once raised against it are buried in oblivion. Not that the 
 poem pretends to be faultless, or that the objections formerly 
 urged were altogether groundless, but the imperfections of 
 the piece are so few, compared with its beauties, that there 
 would be something invidious in recalling them anew into 
 notice. Neither shall we consider it worth our while to 
 agitate again the comparative merits of this translation with 
 those that have preceded it. The specimen to which we 
 have already alluded, must, we presume, have set the matter 
 at rest in the minds of most competent judges. We have 
 already declared our affection for the Spenserian stanza, 
 notwithstanding all that has been said against it, and to 
 that sentiment we still adhere. We shall therefore confine 
 our attention to the peculiar merits of Mr. Wiffen’s transla¬ 
 tion. There are two points essential to the perfection of a 
 translation, first, that it be accurately rendered, and 
 secondly, which is at least of equal importance, that its 
 character and keeping be the same with that of the original: 
 m both these respects we think that the present translator is 
 entitled to a very high degree of commendation. He has 
 contuved to transfuse into the English version much of the 
 fervour, the solemnity, the tenderness, and the sublimity of 
 his prototype; and very many of his stanzas float in all the 
 airiness, and dazzle with all the freshness and brilliancy of 
 original compositions ; he enters profoundly into the poet’s 
 feeling, lie manifests throughout an accurate conception of 
 the plot, he discovers all the passion and piety of an ancient 
 crusader; in love with his subject, and earnestly desirous 
 of doing it justice, he has spared no exertions, as he truly 
 niloims us, to prepare himself for his undertaking; he has 
 
Jerusalem Delivered. 
 
 457 
 
 ransacked ancient as well as contemporary authors, and has 
 made himself well indeed acquainted with the most poetical 
 phrases, and terms of art, which he introduces with great pro¬ 
 priety, and without the least affectation or pedantry. 
 
 With the possession of so much superior talent, and the 
 application of so much persevering labour, combined with 
 an uncommon affection for his task, it was natural for him 
 to expect, and certain that he would obtain, more than or¬ 
 dinary success. We find, indeed, in this translation what 
 we ourselves had anticipated, a superiority not only over 
 all preceding attempts at the same work, but over all others 
 that have fallen for many years beneath our observation. 
 
 To do justice to the various excellencies of this transla¬ 
 tion would be impossible, within the limits to which this 
 review is necessarily confined, and we most earnestly re¬ 
 quest our readers therefore to read the work, and judge for 
 themselves; but before we proceed to present extracts from 
 the poem, which we intend to do somewhat copiously, we 
 cannot refrain from pointing out to their particular attention 
 those parts of the work which strike us as being of superior 
 excellency. The description of the grand review which dis¬ 
 closes the names of the principal crusaders and their several 
 forces, is, we think, of this order; to which may be added 
 the scene in the tent between Godfrey and the Egyptian 
 ambassadors, whose different characters are very artfully 
 and strikingly portrayed; the funeral of Dudon is delight¬ 
 fully pathetic; the infernal council is horribly grand; the 
 description of the person of Armida, and her specious arts, 
 contain stanzas of uncommon beauty; to these we would 
 subjoin a great part of Canto 6, much of Canto 7, and nearly 
 the whole of Canto 8, which, taken entire, we are disposed 
 to regard as the most successful of any; nor would we omit 
 to remark many passages of great force and uncommon ex¬ 
 cellence in Canto the 9th and last. 
 
 It is high time, however, that we should furnish something 
 like testimonials to the justice of the opinions we have been 
 passing, and we hasten to produce specimens of the work, 
 which the reader may peruse and criticize at his leisure. 
 
 The opening stanzas appear to us to be very happily 
 executed. We give them with the original* 
 
 Canto VArmi pietose , e’Z Capitano , 
 
 Che l gran sepolcro libero di Cristo. 
 
 Molto cgli oprb col senno , e con la mano; 
 
 Molto soffri nel glorioso acquisto: 
 
Review.— Wiffen's 
 
 E invan VInferno a lui s' oppose, e invan& 
 
 S'armb (TAsia, e di Libia il popol misto: 
 
 Che'l del gli dib favor e, e sotto ai santi 
 Segni ridusse i suoi compagni erranti. 
 
 I sing the pious arms and Chief, who freed 
 Christ s holy sepulchre from thrall profane: 
 
 Much did he toil in thought, and much in deed. 
 
 Much in the glorious enterprise sustain ; 
 
 In vain all Hell opposed him, armed in vain 
 Of Africa and Incl the mingledcrewjj 
 For Heaven with prosperous fortune crowned his pain. 
 And, under his mild guardianship, anew 
 To the grand Red-Cross flag his errant comrades drew. 
 
 O Musa, tu che di caduchi allori 
 Non circondi lafronte in Elicona, 
 
 Ma sh nel Cielo infra i bead cori 
 Hai di stelle immortali aurea corona, 
 
 Tu spira al petto mio celesti ardori, 
 
 Tu rischiara il mio canto, e tu per dona, 
 
 S intessofregi al ver, s' adorno in parte 
 E altri diletti, che de' tuoi, le carte. 
 
 O thou, the Muse that not with fading palm 3 
 Circlest thy brows on Pindus, but among 
 The happy Angels warbling heavenly psalms. 
 
 Hast for thy coronal a golden thong 
 Of ever-during stars, make thou my song 
 Lucid as light, breathe thou the flame divine 
 Into my bosom, and forgive the wrono% 
 
 If with grave truth light fiction I combine, 
 
 And sometimes grace my page with other flowers than thin< 
 
 Sai chela corre il mondo, ovepiii versi 
 Di sue dolcezze il lusinghier Parnaso; 
 
 E che l vero condito in molli versi r 
 schivi allettando hel persudso: 
 
 Cost all'egrofanciul porgiamo aspersi 
 Di soayi licor gli orli del vaso; 
 
 Succhiamari, ingannato, intanto ei beve, 
 
 E dall inganno zvq vita riceve. 
 
 Thou know’stthat thithe, the u-orld swiftest flies, 
 
 Tu P l an ' as , su . s thrills the’ enchanted winds 
 And that harsh truth, in music’s rich diso-uise 
 
 ^ !TV h n C ° ye u St ’ C , harms the lightest minds’; 
 bo the fond mother her sick infant blinds 
 
 Sprinkling the edges of the cup she gives' 
 
 With sweetest nectar; pleased with what he finds 
 n th , e smooth brim, the bitter he receives, 
 
 Drinks the delusrve draught, and, thus deluded, lives. 
 
Jerusalem Delivered. 
 
 4 59 
 
 Tu, magnanimo Alfonso , il qual ritogli 
 A l furor di For tuna, e guidi in porto 
 Me pereyrino err ante, e fra gli scogli 
 Efra l onde agitato, e quasi assorto, 
 
 Queste mie carte in lieta fronte accogli, 
 
 Che quasi in voto a te sacrate i' porto. 
 
 Forse un difa, che la presaga penna 
 Osi scriver di te quel ch' or naccenna. 
 
 And thou, Alphonso, who from fortune’s shocks, 
 
 And from the agitated sea, didst save, 
 
 And pilot into port from circling rocks 
 My wandering bark, nigh swallowed by the wave! 
 
 Accept with a glad smile,—’tis all I crave— 
 
 These my vowed tablets, in thy temple hung 
 For the tresh life which then thy goodness gave; 
 
 Some day perhaps my prophesying tongue 
 May dare to sing of thee what now must rest unsung. 
 
 E ben ragion (s'eyli avverrd , chen pace 
 II buon popol di Cristo unqua si veda, 
 
 E con navi, e cavalli al fero Trace 
 Ccrchi ritor la grande ingiusta preda) 
 
 Ch'a te lo scettro in terra, o se ti piace, 
 
 L'alto imperio dc mari a te conceda. 
 
 Emulo di Goffredo, i nostri carmi 
 Intanto ascolta, e t’apparecchia alfarini. 
 
 If e’er it chance that in harmonious peace 
 The Christian Potentates again unite, 
 
 With steed and ship their ravished spoils to seize, 
 
 And for this theft the savage Turk requite, 
 
 To thee shall they concede, in wisdom’s right, 
 
 The rule by land, or, if it have more charms, 
 
 Of the high seas; meanwhile, let it delight 
 
 To hear our verse ring with divine alarms; [p. 1_3,] 
 
 Rival of Godfrey, hear, and grasp thy glittering arms! 
 
 The reader will be delighted with the portrait of the 
 lovely and modest Sofronia, which is thus delicately 
 sketched. 
 
 Of generous thoughts and principles sublime, 
 
 Amongst them in the city lived a maid, 
 
 The flower of virgins, in her ripest prime, 
 
 Supremely beautiful, but that she made 
 Never her care, or beauty only weighed 
 In worth with virtue, and her worth acquired 
 A deeper charm from blooming in the shade; 
 
 Lovers she shunned, nor loved to be admired, 
 
 But from their praises turned, and lived a life retired. 
 
460 
 
 Revieiv. —Wiffen's 
 
 Yet could not this coy vigilance prevent 
 . The’ admiring gaze and warm desires of ono 
 
 Tutored by Love, nor would fond Love consent 
 To hide such lustrous beauty from the sun : 
 
 Love, that through every change delight’st to run, 
 
 The Proteus of the heart! who now dost blind. 
 
 Now roll the Argus eyes that nought can shun, 
 
 Thou through a thousand guards unseen dost wind. 
 
 And to the chastest maids familiar access find! 
 
 Sophronia hers, Olindo was his name; 
 
 Born in one town, by one pure faith illumed; 
 
 Modest—as she was beautiful, his flame 
 
 Feared much, hoped little, and in nought presumed; 
 
 He could not, or he durst not speak, but doomed 
 To voiceless thought his passion; him she slighted. 
 
 Saw not, or would not see; thus he consumed 
 Beneath the vivid fire her beauty lighted ; 
 
 Either not seen, ill known, or, known, but ill requited. 
 
 And thus it was, when like an omen drear 
 That summoned all her kindred to the grave, 
 
 The cruel mandate reached Sophronia’s ear. 
 
 Who, brave as bashful, yet discreet as brave. 
 
 Mused how her people she from death might save; 
 
 Courage inspired, but virginal alarm 
 Repressed the thought, till maiden shyness gave 
 Place to resolve, or joined to share the harm; 
 
 Boldness awoke her shame, shame made her boldness charm. 
 Alone amidst the crowd the maid proceeds, 
 
 Nor seeks to hide her beauty, nor display; 
 
 Downcast her eyes, close veiled in simple weeds, 
 
 With coy and graceful steps she takes her way; 
 
 So negligent yet nice, one scarce can say 
 If she her charms disdains, or would improve. 
 
 If chance or taste disposes her array; 
 
 Favoured by Heaven, by nature, and by love, 
 
 Her mere neglects of art most artificial prove. [p. 56—58.] 
 
 The lament of the lovers at the fatal stake must not 
 be omitted. 
 
 Around them now the unctuous pyre was piled. 
 
 And the fanned flame was rising in the wind. 
 
 When, full of bitter thought, in accents wild. 
 
 The lover to his mate in death repined; 
 
 “ Is this the bond then which I hoped should bind 
 Our lives in blissful marriage? this the fire 
 Of bridal faith commingling mind with mind. 
 
 Which I believed should in our hearts inspire 
 Like warmth of sacred zeal and delicate desire ? 
 
Jerusalem Delivered. 
 
 461 
 
 “Far other flames Love promised to impart 
 Than those our envious planets here prepare; 
 
 Too, ah too long they kept our hands apart. 
 
 But harshly now they join them in despair; 
 
 \ et does it soothe, since by a mode so rare 
 Condemned to die, thy torments to partake. 
 
 Forbid by fate thy sweetnesses to share; 
 t If tears I shed, ’tis but for thy dear sake, 
 
 Not mine,—with thee beside, I bless the burning stake! 
 
 “ And oh ! this doom would be indeed most blest. 
 
 My sharpest sufferings blandishments divine, 
 
 Might I but be permitted breast to breast. 
 
 On thy sweet lips my spirit to resign; 
 
 If thou too, panting toward one common shrine, 
 
 Wouldst the next happy instant parting spend 
 Thy latest sighs in sympathy on mine!” 
 
 Sorrowing he spoke; she when his plaints had end, 
 
 Did thus his fond discourse most sweetly reprehend. 
 
 “ Far other aspirations, other plaints 
 
 Than these, dear friend, the solemn hour should claim; 
 
 Think what reward God offers to his saints; 
 
 Let meek repentance raise a loftier aim; 
 
 These torturing fires, if suffered in his name. 
 
 Will, bland as zephyrs, waft us to the blest; 
 
 Regard the sun ! how beautiful his flame ! 
 
 How fine a sky invites him to the west! [p. 33_3fi.] 
 
 These both console our pangs, and summon us to rest.” 
 
 We cannot refrain from extracting the concluding stanzas 
 of Canto hi. 
 
 His bosom friends the high bier had adorned 
 With ceremonial pomp, a solemn show ; 
 
 And when their Prince appeared amidst them, mourned 
 In louder accents with a tenderer wo; 
 
 But pious Godfrey gave no tear to flow. 
 
 Not all serene, nor clouded was his look; 
 
 Dum for a while, his fixt eyes seem to grow 
 To the loved form they contemplate;—he broke 
 Silence at length, and thus in calm dejection spoke. 
 
 “ Tears are not now thy due ! from the world’s toil, 
 
 Gone to assume in heaven the better birth; 
 
 A winged Angel from thy mortal coil 
 Escaped, thy glory lingers yet round earth ! 
 
 Christ’s hallowed warrior living thou went’st forth, 
 
 Christ’s champion didst thou die; and now, blest shade, 
 
 The crown and palm of righteousness and worth 
 Thou wear’st, with joys unspeakable repaid, 
 
 Feeding thine eyes on things no fancy e’er portrayed! 
 
462 
 
 Review. —Whiffen’s 
 
 " Yes! thou liv’st happy, and if yet we keep- 
 Vigils of grief, and echo groan for groan, 
 
 Tis not for thee, but for ourselves we weep, 
 
 In thee our noblest pillar lies o’erthrown; 
 
 But, although Death (a title we disown) 
 
 Of earthly aid has stripped and rendered vain 
 Our arms, bright legions stand before the throne. 
 
 And raised thyself to that selected train, 
 
 Still may thy suit for us celestial aids obtain. 
 
 “ And as we saw thee, whilst a mortal, shield 
 With mortal arms our cause, let us descry 
 Thy conquering hand for our advantage wield 
 Heaven’s fatal arms, a spirit of the sky ; 
 
 Hear now the vows we offer up, be nigh. 
 
 And in the hour of ultimate distress 
 Send down immortal succours from on high; 
 
 So will we raise to thee for wrought success, 
 
 Hymns of triumphal praise, and in our temples bless!” 
 
 He ceased; the last bright beams of day were spent, 
 And Eve ascending in the starless air, 
 
 Imposed a sweet oblivion on lament. 
 
 Rest to each toil, a truce to every care; 
 
 But Godfrey still watched, thoughtful to prepare 
 Those mighty engines, without which he knew 
 The toil of war would be a brave despair; 
 
 Then how to frame their shape, and whence to hew 
 Materials for the work, perplexed his mind anew. 
 
 But when the morn looked forth on Jordan’s flood. 
 
 The funeral pageant he lamenting led; 
 
 An odiferous ark of cypress wood, 
 
 Near a green hill, became Lord Dudon’s bed: 
 
 The hill adjoined the Camp, and overhead 
 A stately palm its verdant foliage flung; 
 
 Last, white-robed Priests their anthem 0 o’er the dead, 
 Slow-moving hymned, and many a tuneful tongue 
 Sweet in the solemn march his requiescat sung: ° 
 
 Whilst here and there the tree’s proud branches bore 
 Ensigns and arms, the banner and the bow,— 
 
 Spoils, which in fights more fortunate he tore 
 Or from the Syrian or the Persian foe; 
 
 In midst, his own pierced cuirass they bestow, 
 
 His hollow helmet, his inverted spear, 
 
 And grave this legend on the trunk below: 
 
 Pilgrim ! a champion of the Cross revere, 
 
 And pass this tomb with awe; brave Dudon slumbers here 
 
Jerusalem Delivered. 
 
 463 
 
 The Duke, when thus his piety had paid 
 The funeral rites, and shed his duteous tears, 
 
 Sent all his skilled mechanics to invade 
 The forest, guarded by a thousand spears; 
 
 \ eiled by high hills it stood, the growth of years— 
 
 A Syrian shepherd pointed out the vale, 
 
 And thither brought the Camp-artificers 
 To fabricate the engines doomed to scale 
 Salem's imperial towers and turn her people pale. 
 
 Each cheers on each, and to the general call 
 Unwonted ravage rends the woods around ; 
 
 Hewed by the iron’s piercing edge, down fall, 
 
 And with their leafy honours heap the ground, 
 
 Pines, savage ashes, beeches, palms renowned, 
 
 Funereal cypresses, the fir-tree high, 
 
 Maple, and holm with greens eternal crowned, 
 
 And wedded elm, to which the vines apply 
 Their virgin arms, and curl, and shoot into the sky. 
 
 Some fell the yews, some fell the warrior-oaks, 
 
 M hose trunks have budded to a thousand springs. 
 
 And braved immoveable the thousand shocks ° 
 
 Of Boreas rushing on his wintry wings; 
 
 And here the alder nods, the cedar swings 
 On rattling wheels; some bark the trees, some square; 
 
 With shouts and clang of arms the valley rings,_ 
 
 Sick with the sound, the nymphs their haunts’forswear 
 The stork her nest forsakes, the lioness her lair. 
 
 [p. 134—139.] 
 
 Some idea may be formed of the delicacy and warmth of 
 the translator’s imagination, from the following description 
 of the beautiful Armida:— 1 
 
 Never did Greece or Italy behold 
 A form to fancy and to taste more dear! 
 
 At times, the white veil dims her locks of gold, 
 
 At times, in bright relief they reappear: 
 
 Thus, when the stormy skies begin to clear, 
 
 Now through transparent clouds the sunshine gleams, 
 
 Now, issuing from its shrine, the gorgeous Sphere 
 Lights up the vales, flowers, mountains, leaves, and streams 
 With a diviner day-the spirit of bright beams. ’ 
 
 New ringlets form the flowing winds amid 
 The natural curls of her resplendent hair; 
 
 Her blue eye its soft glance withholds, and hid 
 Are all Love’s treasures with a miser’s care; 
 
464 
 
 Review. —Wiffen’s 
 
 The Rival Roses upon cheeks more fair 
 Than morning light, their mingling tints dispose, 
 
 But on her lovely lips, from whence the air 
 Of paradise exhales, the crimson rose 
 Its whole voluptuous bloom in peerless beauty throws. 
 
 Ripe as the grape just mellowing into wine, 
 
 Her bosom swells to sight; its lily breasts, 
 
 Smooth, soft, and sweet, like alabaster shine, 
 
 Part bare, part hid by her embroidered vests; 
 
 Whose jealous fringe the greedy eye arrests, 
 
 But leaves its fond imaginations free. 
 
 To sport, at will in those delicious nests, 
 
 And their most shadowed secrecies to see; 
 
 Peopling with blissful dreams the lively phantasy. 
 
 As through pure water or translucent glass 
 The sunbeam darts, yet leaves the crystal sound, 
 
 So through her shining robes unruffling pass 
 The thoughts to wander on forbidden ground : 
 
 There daring fancy takes her fairy round, 
 
 Such wondrous beauties singly to admire, 
 hich in a pleasing fit of transport bound, 
 
 She after whispers to refined desire, 
 
 And with her charming tale foments the’ excited fire. 
 
 [Canto iv. p. 157—159.] 
 
 A faiier specimen cannot be given of bis knowledge 
 of the ancient modes of attack and defence than the follow¬ 
 ing stanzas afford. 
 
 Warily deals each warrior’s arm its thrust, 
 
 His foot its motion, its live glance his eye,— 
 
 To various guards and attitudes they trust, 
 
 They foin, they dally, now aloof, now high, 
 
 Recede, advance, wheel, traverse, and pass by, 
 
 Threat where they strike not, where they threat not, dart 
 1 he desperate pass, or with perception sly 
 Free to the foe leave some unguarded part, 
 
 Then his foiled stroke revenge, with art deriding art. 
 
 Prince Tancred’s thigh the Pagan knight perceives 
 But ill defended or by shield or sword; 
 
 He hastes to strike, and inconsiderate leaves 
 His side unshielded as he strikes abroad; 
 
 Tancred failed not instinctively to ward 
 
 The stroke, beat back the weapon, and, inspired 
 
 With eager hope, the guardless body gored; 
 
 Which done, of either gazing host admired, 
 
 He nimbly back recoiled, and to his ward retired. 
 
Jerusalem Delivered. 
 
 465 
 
 The fierce Argantes, when he now beheld 
 Himself in his own gushing blood baptized, 
 
 In unaccustomed horror sighed and yelled, 
 
 "W ith shame discountenanced, and with pain surprised; 
 And both by rage and suffering agonized, 
 
 Raised with his voice his sword aloft to quit 
 The sharp rebuke; but Tancred, well advised 
 Of his intent, afresh the’ assailant smit, 
 
 Where to the nervous arm the shoulder-blade was knit. 
 
 As in its Alpine forest the grim bear, 
 
 Stung by the hunter’s arrow, from its haunfs 
 Flies in the face of all its shafts to dare 
 Death for the mad revenge no peril daunts; 
 
 Just so the’ untamed Circassian fares, so pants 
 For blood, as thus the foe his soul besets, 
 
 W hen shame on shame, and wound on wound he plants; 
 And his revenge his wrath so keenly whets. 
 
 That he all danger scorns, and all defence forgets. 
 
 Joining with courage keen a valour rash, 
 
 And untired strength with unexampled might, 
 
 He showers his strokes so fast that the skies flash, 
 
 And earth even trembles in her wild affright; 
 
 No time has the alarmed Italian knight 
 To deal a single blow; from such a shower 
 Scarce can he shield himself, scarce breathe; no sleight 
 Of arms is there to’ assure his life an hour 
 From the man’s headstrong haste and brute gigantic power. 
 
 Collected in himself, he waits in vain 
 Till the first fury of the storm be past, 
 
 Now lifts his moony targe, now round the plain 
 Fetches his skilful circles far and fast; 
 
 But when he sees the Pagan’s fierceness last 
 Through all delay, his own proud blood takes fire, 
 
 And staking all his fortunes on the cast. 
 
 He whirls his sword in many a giddy gyre, 
 
 Requiting strength with strength, and answering ire with ire. 
 
 Judgment and skill are lost in rage, rage gives 
 Resentment life, fresh force resentment lends; 
 
 Where falls the steel, it ever bores or cleaves 
 Chainplate or mail; plumes shiver, metal bends. 
 
 Helms crack, and not a stroke in vain descends; 
 
 The ground is strewed with armour hewn asunder, 
 Armour with blood, with ruby blood sweat blends; 
 
 Each smiting sword appears a whirling wonder, 
 
 Its flash the lightning’s fire, its sullen clang far thunder. 
 
466 
 
 Review. —WifFen’s 
 
 Both gazing nations anxious hung suspended 
 Upon a spectacle so wild and new ; 
 
 With fear, with hope the issue they attended, 
 
 Some good or ill perpetually in view: 
 
 Not the least beck or slightest whisper flew 
 Midst the vast hosts so lately in commotion ; 
 
 All nerve alone, all eye, all ear, they grew 
 Fixt, mute, and soundless as an eve-lulled ocean, 
 
 Save what the beating heart struck in its awful motion. 
 
 Now tired were both ; and both, their spirits spent. 
 
 Had surely perished on the field of fight, 
 
 Had not dim eve her lengthening shadows sent. 
 
 And even of nearest things obscured the sight; 
 
 And now on either side in apposite 
 
 Array, a reverend herald rose, and sought 
 
 From the stern strife to separate each his knight; 
 
 This Aridos, Pindoro that, who brought 
 Of late the’ insulter’s boast, and terms on which they fought. 
 
 [Canto vi. p. 266—270.] 
 
 One more specimen of the same kind in Canto vn. 
 
 But he to ward off harm is not so swift 
 As that fierce foe is active to assail, 
 
 Battered his helm, his shield’s already cleft, 
 
 And bored and bloody is his plated mail. 
 
 Of Tancred’s meditated blows, none fail 
 Of their effect; not one descends in vain, 
 
 But keenly wounds; the’ apostate’s face turns pale, 
 
 And his heart writhes at once beneath the pain 
 Of anger, pride, remose, love, conscience, and disdain. 
 
 On one last effort of despairing pride 
 Resolved at length his dying hopes to set, 
 
 He casts the fragment of his shield aside. 
 
 Grasps with both hands his sword, uncrimsoned yet, 
 
 And closing nimbly with his foe to get 
 The full command and vantage of the ground, 
 
 Quits with so sharp a stroke his heavy debt, 
 
 That through both plate and mail the flesh it found. 
 
 And in the warriors side impressed a grisly wound. 
 
 Next on his spacious brows he struck, the steel 
 Like an alarm-bell rang; a stroke so dire 
 And unexpected made the warrior reel 
 Some paces back, yet left the helm entire. 
 
 Red grew the Prince’s cheeks for very ire, 
 
 In agony of shame his teeth he gnashed ; 
 
 His eyes were like two coals of living fire. 
 
 And every glance that through his visor flashed, 
 
 Blasted the Gascon’s pride, both blasted and abashed. 
 
Jerusalem Delivered. 
 
 467 
 
 He heard the hissing of the’ Avenger’s steel 
 Brandished aloft, its shining he descried, 
 
 Already in his breast he seemed to feel 
 The’ accelerated sword his heart divide, 
 
 And tremblingly recoiled ; the blow fell wide 
 On an antique pilaster that embossed § 
 
 The marble bridge,—sparks flashed on every side. 
 Fragments sprang forth and in the skies were lost, 
 
 Whilst to the traitor’s heart fear shot its arrowy frost. 
 
 Back to the bridge he rushed, in speed reposing 
 His hopes of life,—behind the’ Avenger hung 
 On his fleet steps, now near, now nearer closing, 
 
 One hand already to his shoulder clung; 
 
 When lo! from trembling air the lights are wrun»; 
 
 The cressets disappear, the tapers die;— 
 
 Gone was each star that in blue ether hung; 
 
 The yellow moon drew in her horns on high, 
 
 And all grew hideous shade beneath the vacant sky. [p.40-44.] 
 
 Canto t mth is replete with beauties, but w e must con¬ 
 fine our extracts to the following stanzas. 
 
 “ Wounded amidst my slaughtered friends I fell. 
 
 And there was left for dead, nor what our foes 
 Since or sustained or acted can I tell, 
 
 An icy torpor all my senses froze; 
 
 But when at length my faint eyes did unclose 
 From dark unconsciousness, the wings of Night 
 Seemed o’er the shadowy landscape to repose; 
 
 Feebly I oped them, and a glimmering light 
 Far-off, appeared by fits to swim before my sight. 
 
 “ Albeit no strength had I to recognize 
 Even nearest objects through the void opaque, 
 
 But saw as one whose overwearied eyes, 
 
 Nor all asleep, nor openly awake, 
 
 Close and unclose without the power to take 
 Regard or cognizance of things most nigh; 
 
 And now my cruel wounds began to ache, 
 
 Bit by the keen night-air, thus doomed to lie 
 Faint on the naked earth, beneath a freezing sky. 
 
 “ Meanwhile the light drew momently more near. 
 
 Till it arrived and rested at my side, 
 
 Then gentle whisperings murmured in my ear,— 
 
 I raised with pain my eye-lids, and descried 
 Two tall commanding figures near me glide, 
 
 Clothed in long robes, and shaking in the air 
 Two torches: ‘Son,’ I heard them say, * confide 
 In him who oft consents the good to spare, 
 
 And with his grace forestals the sacrifice of prayer!’ 
 
 VOL. VIII. NO. 4. 2 K 
 
4(38 
 
 Review — Wiffen’s 
 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * * 
 
 “ I looked, and as the brilliant fireball rolled, 
 
 (Or rather midnight sun) a ray descended, 
 
 W hich like a glorious line of liquid gold 
 Ruled by the pencil, straight to earth extended, 
 
 And o’er the body, when its flight was ended, 
 
 Shook from its skirts so beautiful a flood 
 Of coloured light, that all its wounds shone splendid. 
 Each like a ruby ring or golden stud, 
 
 And straight the face 1 knew in its grim mask of blood. 
 
 I 
 
 “ He lay,not prone, but as his high desire 
 Was ever turned towards the stars, his face, 
 
 Ev’n as the martyr’s from his couch of fire, 
 
 Looked upward still to heaven’s blue fields of space. 
 Closed was his red right hand in strict embrace 
 Grasping the sword, in act to strike, whose blade 
 Such ravage wrought; his left with careless grace 
 In meek devotion on his breast was laid, 
 
 As though for peace to God the parting spirit prayed. 
 
 “ sudden where the warrior’s corse reposed, 
 
 A rich sarcophagus was seen to rise. 
 
 Which in its heart his relics had enclosed, 
 
 I know not how, nor by what rare device; 
 
 And briefly blazoned with heraldic dyes 
 Shone forth the name and virtues of the dead; 
 
 From the strange sight my fascinated eyes 
 I could not lift; each glance fresh marvel bred* 
 
 Now I the porphyry scanned, and now the’ inscription read. 
 
 [Canto viii. pp. 381—388.]* 
 
 The ixth Canto, which contains the celebrated night- 
 attack of Solyman on the Christian camp, may be illus¬ 
 trated by the following spirited stanzas, and with these we 
 are compelled to close our extracts. 
 
 Lo, through the gloom the sentinels he spies 
 By the faint twinkling of a casual lamp’ ’ 
 
 Nor can he longer hope in full surprise 
 To take the cautious Duke and slumbering Camp. 
 The sentries soon behold his lion-ramp 
 And their alarum sounding loud, bear back 
 
 r S nUmberS their suIlen ^amp; 
 
 So that the foremost guards were roused, nor slack 
 
 To seize their ready arms, and face the grand attack. 
 
Jerusalem Delivered. 
 
 409 
 
 Sure of discovery now, the Arabs wound 
 
 Their barbarous horns, and raised their yelling cry, 
 
 “ Lillah il Allah!” to the well-known sound 
 Neighed all their steeds, earth rang as they rushed by: 
 Bellowed the mountains, roared the rifted sky, 
 
 Roared the deep vales; the* abysses caught the tone, 
 And answered in drear thunder, whilst on high, 
 
 Alecto the blue torch of Phlegethon 
 Shook toward Zion hill, and signed its legions on. 
 
 First rushed the Soldan on the guard, ev’n then 
 In lax confusion unarranged; less swift 
 Leaps the grim lion from his bosky den, 
 
 Shoots the fierce eagle from her mountain clift; 
 
 Floods that pluck up and in their rapid drift 
 Roll down huts, rocks, and trees; lightnings that blast 
 Strong towers with bolts that leave a burning rift; 
 Earthquakes whose motions make the world aghast, 
 
 Are symbols weak to paint the power with which he passed. 
 
 His sabre never through the grisly shade 
 Falls but it smites, nor smites without a wound, 
 
 Not wounds but straight it kills,—should more be said. 
 The truth would like romance or falsehood sound. 
 
 Pain he dissembles, or he has not found, 
 
 Or scorns the blows which feebler arms imprint; 
 
 Yet oft his burganet of steel rings round 
 Like loud alarm-bells with the lively dint 
 Of pole-axe, spear, or sword, and sparkles like a flint. 
 
 Just as his single sword to flight delivers 
 This first*raised phalanx, a gigantic deed. 
 
 Like a sea swelled with thousand mountain-rivers,"] 
 
 His rushing Arabs to the charge succeed. 
 
 Then the scared Franks flew tent-ward at full speed, 
 
 The’ audacious Victor following as they fled; 
 
 And with them, rapt sublime on his black steed, 
 
 Entering the Camp-Gate, he on all sides spread 
 Havoc, and grief, and pain, loud wailings, rage, and dread. 
 
 High on the Soldan’s helm, in scales of pearl, 
 
 With writhen neck, raised paws, outflying wings, 
 
 And Jail rolled downward ending in a curl, 
 
 A rampant dragon grinned malignant things. 
 
 Its lips frothed poison, brandishing three strings 
 You almost heard it hiss; at every stroke 
 Heaped on its crest, through all its burning rings 
 It seemed the monster into motion woke, 
 
 Spit forth its spiteful fire, and belched Tartareous smoke. 
 
470 
 
 Review. 
 
 Such and so Gorgon-like the Soldan’s form 
 Shewed by those fires to the beholders’ sight, 
 
 As Ocean tossing in a midnight storm 
 To sailors, with her million waves alight. 
 
 Some give their timid trembling feet to flight, 
 
 Some their brave hands to the revenging blade; 
 
 And still the’ infuriate Anarch of the Night 
 Increased the risks by darkening them in shade, 
 
 And to the midnight winds tumultuous discord brayed. 
 
 [Canto ix. pp. 425—428.] 
 
 This is unquestionably very powerful poetry; our incli¬ 
 nation reproaches us for not having quoted the interesting 
 flight and fortunes of the fair Erminia, at the commence¬ 
 ment of the 7th Canto, which are given with the happiest 
 possible fidelity, harmony, and grace; but necessity has no 
 alternative. 
 
 In a work of such extent we are prepared to meet with 
 some inequalities of execution, yet these, we do not hesitate 
 to say, are fewer than in almost any work of equal length. 
 Having, however, so unequivocally expressed our approba¬ 
 tion of the work before us, it becomes our duty, as impar¬ 
 tial Reviewers, to confess that our taste does not, in some 
 few instances, coincide with that of the ingenious translator, 
 and we think that the same talents are capable of advancing 
 this very beautiful poem to a still higher degree of perfec¬ 
 tion. We have some sort of objection, which we know not 
 precisely how to express, to a few of his epithets, and to 
 some of his phrases, which we will not call affected, but 
 which we could nevertheless wish to see exchanged for 
 others less novel and somewhat more natural. Even upon 
 this point, although speaking ex cathedrd , we would not 
 wish to press too hardly, or to insist too strongly, since we 
 well know what differences of opinion prevail upon matters 
 merely of taste and feeling. 
 
 We have one more suggestion to make, and we have 
 donethe translator’s zeal in the cause which he espouses, 
 combined with his natural affection for the ornamental and the 
 beautiful, has, we think, in some instances, induced a slight 
 overcharge of colour,—a little excess of embellishment^— 
 and in a few cases, a partial exaggeration of character. 
 
 Bating these slight faults, if such they deserve to be 
 called, and which a second edition of the version may easily 
 remove, we cannot but express our cordial approbation of 
 the manner in which the translation has been performed. 
 The music of the versification, the richness of the phrase- 
 
471 
 
 Matthew Henry at Hackney. 
 
 ology, the solemn earnestness of the style, and the conti¬ 
 nuity of interest produced by the pleasing flow of the 
 stanzas, cannot fail, we should hope, to ensure to Mr. Wiffen 
 the favour of an enlightened public, whilst the extraordinary 
 expense and pains which he has unsparingly lavished upon 
 this, his favourite performance, seem to entitle him, in all 
 respects, to the support of those who make it their pride to 
 patronize genius, more especially when combined, as it is in 
 the present instance, with great good sense, and enlisted 
 under the banners of virtue. 
 
 Since the above was written, we have been informed 
 that the late dreadful conflagration in Creville-street has 
 consumed by far the greater part of this edition of the 
 first, and the whole of the second volume, which was fast 
 advancing to its completion, We learn it with regret, no 
 less from the value of the version, the publication of 
 which this unfortunate accident must greatly retard, than 
 from the loss to Mr. Moyes, of whose extraordinary merit 
 in his profession, the present volume, unequalled in 
 typography, forms a most interesting proof. We are 
 happy, however, to hear that the wood-engravings are 
 safe, and, what is of much more consequence, that there 
 is a duplicate copy of the MS. 
 
 Matthew Henry at Hackney : to which is added. Strictures on 
 the Unitarian Writings of the Rev. Lant Carpenter, LL.D. 
 8vo. London, 1824. pp. 142. Seeley and Son. 
 
 We have experienced very considerable pleasure in the 
 perusal of the learned little work, the title of which stands 
 at the head of this article. By a lively, though perhaps 
 somewhat too bold a turn of genius, the interest of the reader 
 is powerfully a weakened to a^serious and important subject. 
 In a visionary scene, the venerable Matthew Henry is 
 recalled frqm the shades, and once more placed in the pulpit, 
 at Hackney, from which, in his lifetime, he was accustomed 
 to deliver, in all their purity, the great and essential doc¬ 
 trines of the gospel; but which has latterly become the 
 theatre whence the principles of the Unitarian heresy are 
 promulgated. Addressing an assembly, composed chiefly 
 of ministers of religion, he, in a striking and powerful exor¬ 
 dium,] bewails the desolation of the sanctuary; and forcibly 
 
472 
 
 Review. 
 
 reminds them of the sound and practical doctrines which 
 he had preached to their fathers. He then opens on his 
 hearers with the important questions, ** What think ye of 
 Christ? Whose son is heV } After noticing various replies 
 which have been given to those inquiries, and particularly 
 the opinions of Dr. Priestley, whom he, more strongly than 
 courteously designates as “ a man of Birmingham, whose 
 blaze expired like a meteor,” he proceeds to deliver a grand 
 argument in defence of the Homo-ousion faith, that the Son 
 is one substance with the Father, founded on the universal 
 testimony of all the early nations, and flowing down the 
 stream of ages to the time of the Christian fathers. 
 
 This argument, founded on universal testimony, has not 
 been overlooked by former writers, who have engaged in the 
 defence of the Christian faith ; but it has seldom been con¬ 
 sidered as forming, by itself, a sufficient basis whereon to 
 rest the great doctrines of revelation,—doctrines on w'hich 
 hang the best hopes and highest expectations of the Chris¬ 
 tian believer. The fact is, that all those writers who have 
 impugned or denied these sacred doctrines, have proceeded 
 on the presumption that they cannot stand the test of 
 rational investigation; and therefore ought not to be be¬ 
 lieved, however supported by the testimony of ancient and 
 universal faith. In this appeal to the bar of human reason, 
 against the claims of revelation, we are sorry to observe, 
 what we esteem by far too ready a disposition to concur, 
 on the part of Christians who have hitherto been deemed 
 orthodox. 
 
 A celebrated Scotch professor, a few years ago, attempted 
 to demonstrate the existence of a Trinity in the Oeorijc, or 
 Godhead, by metaphysical argumentation alone. We never 
 heard that any good was effected by the ratiocinations of the 
 learned professor, although his essay was approved by the 
 majority of a select party of ministers and friends, convened 
 for the purpose of hearing it read, and, we believe, was after¬ 
 wards published. We suspect, however, from the connexion 
 of the parties, that it is to this notable attempt to demon¬ 
 strate, metaphysically, the existence of the glorious Trinity, 
 that we are indebted for the no less notable dogma of a 
 modern commentator, of great learning, but far too bold in 
 his speculations, and confident in his opinions, that the doc¬ 
 trines of revelation, being doctrines of eternal reason, human 
 reason can both apprehend and comprehend them.* This 
 
 * Dr. Adam Clarke’s Commentary. See his general Principles, 
 at the end of the New Testament. 
 
473 
 
 Matthew Henry at Hackney. 
 
 maxim once established, the inference seems natural and 
 just, that a man should believe nothing, whether a doctrine 
 of the bible or not, unless he can both apprehend and com¬ 
 prehend it: and we should really think this a ready way, 
 not indeed to establish, but to get rid of all belief in 
 those doctrines of revelation which appear to man mys¬ 
 terious. 
 
 As our attention is now called to this subject, and as it 
 has been rendered important by the wide circulation of the 
 Commentary alluded to, and the credit which it has obtained 
 amongst a body of Christians, for whom, as a body, we 
 entertain great respect; we hope to be excused, if we here 
 make, what perhaps is not unusual with reviewers, a large 
 digression, and take this opportunity of declaring our 
 opinion upon the subject. 
 
 W e observe then, that the distinction between eternal 
 reason and human reason is as great as the distinction 
 between truth and problem—between certainty and uncer¬ 
 tainty—between fallibility and infallibility. Reason is that 
 faculty of the mind by which we acquire knowledge by 
 comparison, deduction, and inference. The mind, by com¬ 
 paring two ideas, deduces or infers a third idea, as a conse¬ 
 quence of this comparison. This third, or consequent idea, 
 if rightly deduced, is that portion of truth which lies between 
 the two former ideas; and to the knowledge of which the 
 mind has attained by this simple operation of reason. Thus 
 w r e premise, in the first instance, that the Messiah was the 
 Son of God ; and secondly, that Jesus Christ was the Mes¬ 
 siah; from which premises we deduce, in the third place, 
 that Jesus Christ was the Son of God, which is the conse¬ 
 quence of the two former ideas. In this simple operation 
 of reason, the consequence is so self-evident, that the mind 
 is instantly satisfied w’ith its own deduction, and the judg¬ 
 ment immediately receives the third proposition, that Jesus 
 Christ was the Son of God, and passes it into the store of 
 knowledge, as an ascertained truth. But where the opera¬ 
 tions of reason are more complicated, and depend on inter¬ 
 mediate knowledge between the premises and the conse¬ 
 quence deduced from them, the case is different; and the 
 consequence remains a mere problem, until demonstrated by 
 proof,—as for instance, we premise, first, that God cannot 
 die ; secondly, that Jesus Christ did die: if from these pre¬ 
 mises we deduce, that Jesus Christ was not God, we make a 
 false deduction ; aud the cause of our mistake is, the want 
 of tjie intermediate knowledge that Jesus Christ, by his 
 
474 
 
 Review. 
 
 incarnation, possessed two distinct natures, in one of which 
 he was mortal, and therefore could die; but in the other of 
 which he was incapable of dying, and therefore, as to this 
 nature, he might be God. Here in fact lies the grand dis¬ 
 tinction between eternal reason and human reason. Eternal 
 reason is ever attended by that knowledge which never fails ; 
 and is incapable of any false deduction. All her premises 
 are true; all her inferences are just; and all her results are 
 clearly demonstrated, or rather they demonstrate themselves 
 as self-evident propositions. 
 
 Human reason, on the other hand, is ever liable to be 
 thwarted by error and mistake. The human mind is limited 
 in all her powers; and in the exercise of these powers she is 
 beclouded by ignorance, obscured by passion, and fettered 
 by prejudice. And though her pride will not always stoop 
 to acknowledge her helplessness, she is nevertheless com¬ 
 pelled, in all her researches after divine truth, to confess her 
 obligations to revelation. The best proof of all this is to be 
 found in experience, “ the world by wisdom knew not God.” 
 Those ages and nations which have carried human reason to 
 the highest possible perfection, have ever been the most dark 
 and degenerate with regard to religion and morals. The 
 Hebrew and the Christian churches have alone possessed 
 the secret of the most High. The former received their law, 
 by direct revelation, from Mount Sinai; and the latter im¬ 
 bibed the truth from the lips of Him who “ spake as never 
 man spake.” Hence arises the necessity of subjecting all 
 the deductions of human reason to proof, in order to demon¬ 
 strate their truth. In this process it is found, that many of 
 these deductions can never be proved, and therefore they 
 are rejected as false, or justly exposed to suspicion. Others, 
 though they cannot be fully proved, receive such a decree 
 ot continuation as entitle them to rank as probabilities . 
 Suspected and piobable results pertain exclusively to the 
 enfeebled exertions of human reason; they have no place in 
 the operations of eternal reason. When, however, the con¬ 
 sequence deduced by any effort of human reason is capable 
 of demonstration, it is received and acknowledged by all, as 
 ascertained truth: and small indeed is that portion of reli¬ 
 gious or moral truth which has been elicited by the unaided 
 operations of human reason. In natural philosophy, it is 
 true, she has been far more successful; for here the subject 
 lay more within her view,—the universe was spread open 
 betoie her, her etioits weie assisted by sense,—she was 
 enabled to found her theories on observation, and to draw 
 
475 
 
 Matthew Henry at Hackney. 
 
 from nature the proofs by which they are sustained. But 
 when that which may be known of Him who made the uni¬ 
 verse, was to be discovered; when the counsels of the 
 Eternal, respecting the redemption of a lost world, were to 
 be explored, and when the hopes of an immortal spirit w ere 
 to be confirmed, and her guilty fears allayed—human reason 
 more than confesses her incompetency, and leaves the 
 anxious soul to sigh for a revelation from God. We must 
 therefore agree with St. Paul, that we are not sufficient of 
 ourselves, Xoyiaafat rt, to reason out any such sublime 
 system of doctrine as is contained in the gospel; our 
 sufficiency is of God, from whom we have received that 
 revelation of truth to which human reason could never have 
 attained. 
 
 But what is revelation? It consists in making known to 
 man some portion of truth—some result of eternal reason— 
 the knowledge of which man could never have acquired by 
 any operation of human reason. If man could have attained 
 this know ledge, it was his duty and interest to have done so, 
 and then there had been no necessity for the revelation. 
 Now', there is nothing superfluous in the works of God; we 
 have no instance of his ever having made that a subject of 
 revelation which lay w'ithin the ordinary range of human 
 reason. It belongs to the character of revelation to make 
 known that, which was above the reach of man by any exer¬ 
 cise of his rational powers. It follows, therefore, that the 
 human mind must, to be benefited by revelation, have some 
 other medium of receiving knowledge than the mere exer¬ 
 cise of its reasoning faculties ; and hence arises the necessity 
 of faith in matters of revelation. There are in fact three 
 media by which knowledge is communicated to man. The 
 first, and that through which most of our knowledge is 
 derived, are the natural senses. Where sense fails, reason 
 takes up the subject, and pushes its inquiries and dis¬ 
 coveries to the extent of its powers; and when reason can 
 go no further, the mind has then no other resource than to 
 exercise faith in the testimony of some other being, whose 
 intelligence and knowledge are greater than its own. It 
 follows, therefore, that as the results of human reason de¬ 
 pend for their character of truth, on the degree of proof or 
 metaphysical demonstration of which they may be suscep¬ 
 tible, so the authority of revealed truth, or rather our obliga¬ 
 tion to receive it by faith, rests on the credibility and weight 
 of that testimony by which the revelation is supported. In 
 each of these cases, the medium through which truth enters 
 
476 
 
 Review. 
 
 the mind is distinct; and so is the nature of the evidence on 
 which it is received. 
 
 But it has been said, by the commentator to whom we 
 have before alluded, that although the doctrines of eternal 
 reason could never have been found out by human reason, 
 yet, “ when revealed, reason (that is, human reason) can both 
 apprehend and comprehend them.” The truth of this propo¬ 
 sition depends, however, on the nature of the subject re¬ 
 vealed, and on the extent of the revelation. It is possible 
 that there may be subjects, which lie beyond the stretch of 
 human reason, but which revelation may place within its 
 power. But this implies an extension of human reason, by 
 the communication of all that intermediate knowledge, 
 which lies between the ordinary attainments of human 
 reason, and the doctrine or truth revealed. Where this 
 knowledge is communicated, human reason is, as to this 
 subject, presumed to be placed upon a footing with eternal 
 reason; for it has attained the same result, and by the same 
 degrees of knowledge. But this is not the ordinary course 
 of revelation, which is to unfold to man some grand result 
 of eternal reason, which is proposed to our faith on the au¬ 
 thority of the divine testimony, and without the intermediate 
 process by which that result was obtained in the operations 
 of eternal reason. Here then, whatever human reason may 
 apprehend, it cannot fully comprehend the doctrine revealed • 
 because we want that intermediate knowledge, which can 
 alone connect our present ideas with the subject of the 
 revelation. Let us arrest the progress of some rude and 
 untutored child of nature, who roams across the desert, and 
 hunts his food in the savage wilderness. Inform this man 
 for the first time, that the sun is stationary in the heavens' 
 and that the earth revolves upon her axis. He may be made' 
 to apprehend your meaning, though you contradict his senses • 
 but can he ever comprehend the subject, until he have first 
 acquired a knowledge of the great principles which govern 
 the course of nature ? And if he be disposed to recei ve the 
 truth which you impart, it is not on any demonstrations of 
 his own leason, but on the faith of your testimony. It is 
 from a sense of his own ignorance, and because he‘ believes 
 that your knowledge embraces the subject fully, and that 
 you are incapable of deceiving him. If he reason at all it is 
 on the proper subject; not on that which he cannot com- 
 p ie hend, but on that which lies within his reach, viz. the 
 credibility of your testimony. 
 
 The learned commentator admits that there are some 
 
477 
 
 Matthew Henry at Hackney. 
 
 doctrines of revelation which are above the comprehension 
 of human reason ; for he says that “a man may safely credit 
 (in any thing that concerns the nature of God) what is 
 above his reason; and even this may be a reason why he 
 should believe it. I cannot comprehend the divine nature, 
 therefore we adore it: if we could comprehend, we could 
 not adore; forasmuch as the nature or being, which can be 
 comprehended by my mind, must be less than that by which 
 it is comprehended, and therefore unworthy of its homage.” 
 All this is perfectly correct, but it appears to us completely 
 at variance with his former observations on this subject. 
 There are in fact few doctrines of revelation, which do not, 
 in some degree or relation, concern the nature of God. His 
 perfections and attributes concern his nature ; and the glory 
 of these perfections and attributes is imbodied in every 
 revelation which he makes to man. Hence, in all proba¬ 
 bility, arises the painful difficulties in which human reason 
 finds herself involved, whenever she attemps to investigate 
 the doctrines of revelation; and hence the necessity of^our 
 receiving, on the faith of God’s testimony , the doctrines of 
 eternal reason, which human reason cannot adequately 
 comprehend. To our reason it does not appear possible that 
 the infinite and eternal God should be manifested by incar¬ 
 nation. Great indeed to us is that mystery, “ God was 
 manifest in the flesh.” And if the possibility of such a fact 
 could be demonstrated to our reason, still it appears to us 
 most unreasonable , that lie, who, being in the form of God, 
 thought it no robbery to be equal with God, should, for our 
 sakes, become obedient unto death, even the death of the 
 cross. Yet we apprehend and believe this astonishing fact; 
 but we apprehend it by faith, and we believe it on the tes¬ 
 timony of God, and not by any comprehension of human 
 reason. 
 
 That the human mind must have some apprehension of 
 every doctrine of revelation, is certain ; otherwise there could 
 be no revelation: for we have no revelation of that of which 
 we have no apprehension. But the human mind can appre¬ 
 hend by faith that which it cannot comprehend by reason; 
 and he who will receive nothing into his creed, but what 
 his reason can both apprehend and comprehend, blocks up 
 one inlet of knowledge to his soul, and puts out one eye of 
 his mind. We know not that such a man can be considered 
 wiser, than he who, feeling the incompetency of his reason, 
 is disposed to stretch his faith to credulity; and receives 
 that for a revelation from God, for which he has not suffi- 
 
478 
 
 Review. 
 
 cient evidence of the testimony of God. We will even go 
 further, and say, that it does not appear to us, from the 
 instances furnished in the scriptures, that the evidences of 
 a divine revelation are always addressed, in the first instance, 
 to the reason of man. When Jehovah appeared to Moses, 
 in the wilderness, did he appeal to his reason in the first 
 instance? Certainly the first evidences were addressed to 
 his natural senses. Moses “looked, and, behold! the bush 
 burned with fire, and the bush was not consumed.” He 
 heard the voice of God, which called unto him, out of the 
 midst of the bush; which warned him not to draw nigh, 
 but to put off his shoes from his feet, saying, “I am the 
 God of thy fathers, the God of Abraham, and of Isaac, and 
 of Jacob : and Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look 
 upon God. ’ Here Moses, through the medium of his natural 
 senses, sufficiently apprehended the subject of a divine revela¬ 
 tion, before reason had leisure or opportunity to perform her 
 sober operations. And when God speaks to man, he can be 
 at no loss to make him understand,—we seldom err in our 
 first apprehensions of a divine revelation. Our errors in 
 general flow from our vain attempts to reason on that which 
 we cannot comprehend. We cannot, therefore, go the 
 length of saying, with this commentator, that no man either 
 can or should believe a doctrine that contradicts reason. If 
 by reason is here meant right reason, how many instances 
 Jiav e we, m the Romish church, of men who have sincerely 
 believed doctrines diametrically opposed to right reason: 
 but if, (as is evidently the case,) we are here to understand 
 human reason, then we shall be prepared to admit this pro¬ 
 position, so soon as we shall have gotten rid of the doctrine 
 of the fall of man, and the consequent impairs of all his 
 powers, natural, moral, and intellectual. Right reason in¬ 
 deed is eternal reason, but human reason is neither right 
 leason nor eternal reason 5 and so long and so far as human 
 leason is liable to error and mistake, so long and so far must 
 it ever be contradicted by every revelation of the doctrines 
 of eternal reason. 
 
 We have now probably said enough to induce this cele¬ 
 brated commentator to class us amongst those of whom he 
 says, “ Some men, it is true, cannot reason; and therefore 
 they declaim against reason, and proscribe it, in the examina¬ 
 tion of religious truth.” We are not, however, declaimers 
 against human reason. We would apply it to its proper use, 
 and are anxious only to guard against its abuse. The right 
 use of reason, in matters of revelation, is a subject which we 
 
479 
 
 f 
 
 Matthew Henri/ at Hachney. 
 
 cannot now discuss ; but we are willing to employ it freely 
 on the. evidences on which a revelation professes to rest; and 
 to decide whether these evidences are sufficient to establish 
 it as a revelation from God. When this point is gained, we 
 will allow human reason to investigate the doctrines of reve¬ 
 lation, so far as its powers will extend : we allow this for the 
 improvement of human reason, and to enable her to deduce 
 more satisfactorily, the duties and obligations which the 
 revelation has imposed on mankind; but not for the purpose 
 of testing the doctrines revealed. Many of these doctrines, 
 as we have seen, are above the range of human reason; and 
 therefore she has no test which she can apply. Nor is it neces¬ 
 sary that they should be so tested ; for if they be doctrines 
 ol revelation, they have already stood the test of eternal reason. 
 
 Shall we then still be told by this writer, that, “ were all 
 the nation of this mind, mother church might soon re-assume 
 her ascendancy, and feed us with latin masses and a wafer - 
 God? ’ Let him indulge his fears. Human nature is liable 
 to error and imposition, as he can readily prove. Her prin¬ 
 cipal safeguards are sense, reason, and experience. In na¬ 
 tural things these are in general sufficient. On the doctrines 
 of revealed truth she still employs them as far as they are 
 applicable; but they prove inadequate. Revelation tran¬ 
 scends them all. What then remains to be done? We 
 humble our pride, and gratefully accept that testimony which 
 is sure ; the word of God. 
 
 We have extended these remarks until we had nearly 
 forgotten the work which suggested them; and we fear 
 that we cannot now do that justice to the book which 
 its merits demand. The anonymous author is evidently 
 a man of sound learning, of extensive research, and 
 largely acquainted with ancient literature. It would be 
 unreasonable to expect, in what professes to be an oration 
 from the pulpit, that amplitude of discussion, and copious 
 development of secondary principles, which belong to a 
 regular treatise ; but the author has done sufficient, in our 
 opinion, to prove that he is completely master of his sub¬ 
 ject, and fully competent to maintain the ground he has 
 taken. The discourse consists of four parts. The first of 
 these, extending to about 19 pages, embraces the tradi¬ 
 tionary relations and symbolical representations of the early 
 heathen nations; comprising the Phoenicians, the Egyptians, 
 the Hindoos or Brahmins of the East, the Greeks, the Ro¬ 
 mans, and the northern Goths. The clear result of all these 
 quotations is, that the whole heathen world ascribed to the 
 
480 
 
 Review. 
 
 Deity a Son, whom they conceived to be of the same nature, 
 essence, and substance with his Father; and to whom they 
 assign all the perfections and attributes of essential Deity. 
 The Egyptians believed him to be the author of his own 
 existence, and to have “kindled himself” from the one God. 
 “ Wherefore he is called also his own father and his own 
 origin. For he is the original Being, and the God of gods. 
 One of One, before any thing existed. From him came the 
 possibility of being, and being itself.” It is equally clear, that 
 the ancient heathen world placed all their hopes and ex¬ 
 pectations in this Son of God, whom they frequently repre¬ 
 sent as becoming incarnate, in order to effect some gracious 
 design in behalf of man. The Hindoo literature has recently 
 become a subject of great interest in this country. The 
 author has not only given us an extract from the sacred 
 books of the Brahmins, but a comment containing some sen¬ 
 sible remarks on the incarnations of Vishnoo, of which 
 the tenth is still expected under the name of Kiilkee 
 Uvutaru; on which the author observes, that, “ it were to 
 have been wished that Mr. Ward had written the word 
 Kulkee with c hard; for k had no existence in the first 
 alphabets. The word culte, or worship, is common to all the 
 languages of Europe, and is of frequent occurrence in the 
 Icelandic Edda.” 
 
 From the ancient stanzas of the Vo/uspa, as quoted in the 
 Edda, we have also an interesting extract, on the creation 
 of Ask and Embla (Adam and Eve,) which we here tran¬ 
 scribe, with the supposititious preacher’s sensible remarks 
 upon it. 
 
 “ The Voluspa or oracle of the prophetess Vola, in sixty-five 
 stanzas, celebrates much the same themes as those in the pagan 
 Sibyls, and in the Hebrew prophets. This is a standard work of 
 our northern fathers, and often quoted in the Edda. 
 
 “ Speaking of the creation of Ask and Embla, I would say, Adam 
 and Eve (the introductory lines being lost) she says, ******* Until 
 there came out of the throng of the Holy Gods (ginuheilog goth) 
 convened on the plains of Ithavelli three ASAS to the temple, and 
 found Askar and Emla extended on the ground, and undetermined 
 to their future designation. They had neither spirit, nor mind, nor 
 blood, nor aspect, nor beauteous tints. Odin gave them spirit, 
 Heinir gave them intelligence, and Lothur superadded blood and 
 beauteous tints. 
 
 ICELANDIC. 
 
 17 
 
 SWEDISH. 
 
 17 
 
 Fundo alandi, 
 Litt Megandi, 
 
 Funno de a landet, 
 Litet formaende, 
 
481 
 
 Matthew Henry at Hackney. 
 
 Ask ok Emlo, 
 Aurlau-glausa. 
 
 Askeras ok Embla, 
 Aldeles radlosa. 
 
 18 
 
 18 
 
 Oth gaf Hanir 
 La gaf Lothur, 
 Ok litu gotha. 
 
 Aund thau ne atto, 
 Auth thau ne hauftho; 
 La ne lati, 
 
 Ne lito gotha, 
 
 Aund gaf Othinn, 
 
 Ei utseende goda, 
 Odhin gaf Andan, 
 Hanir gaf bilden, 
 Loder gaf barman, 
 
 Anda de icke atte, 
 Bilden deei hade; 
 
 Barma ei heller late, 
 
 Ok det skona unseende. 
 
 creation of man, indicate a belief in the Godhead, of whose unity 
 our fathers were ignorant. ^ 
 
 “ The subsequent stanzas in the Voluspa coincide with the He¬ 
 brew prophets, and the Sibyline predictions; as well as with the 
 expectations of the Brahmins in the tenth and long expected incar 
 nation of Vishnoo. In the 63d, 64th, and 65th stanzas, she augurs 
 like Isaiah, that ‘the unsown earth should yield a spontaneous in¬ 
 crease ; that all evils should subside; that Baldur, (the Lord the 
 Baal or Bel of antiquity) should come and dwell with Hauthr in 
 Hropt’s sublime abode. Then too shall Haner come, and fill the 
 earth with light and joy.’—Dr. Eben. Henderson adds, in his Travels 
 in Iceland, 
 
 4 A hall she sees The virtuous there 
 
 Out-shine the sun. Shall always dwell. 
 
 Of gold the roof, And evermore 
 
 It stands in Heaven; Delights enjoy.’” [p.27,29.] 
 
 This universal prevalence of a uniform tradition, our au¬ 
 thor justly traces to the long-lived sons of Noah, who were 
 the fathers of all the nations, and priests of the ancient altar. 
 The promise of redemption was to them the dearest pledge 
 of heaven, and must have been handed down to posterity, as 
 their best hope and heritage. Every promise and hope 
 known to Abraham by tradition, was equally known to them 
 and for a time preserved pure, until a depravity of manners 
 induced an affectation of mystery which disguised facts by 
 
482 
 
 Review. 
 
 fiction, and imposed a monstrous mythology on the world. 
 It can scarcely be doubted, as the author admits, that the 
 Jews communicated much sacred knowledge to the Gentiles; 
 but how, he asks, could they find means to communicate 
 that knowledge to the Brahmins of India, and cause it to be 
 inserted in their sacred books? how could the Druids, how 
 could the northern poems or sacred prophecies be fraught 
 with these expectations? whatever might be the peculiar 
 mythology of our gothic fathers, they cannot be suspected 
 of having had the least intercourse with the priests of the 
 Hebrew temple. 
 
 The second part of this discourse consists of testimonies, 
 from the Hebrew prophets, in support of the divinity of the 
 Messiah; which is followed by some quotations from the 
 elder rabbins, to shew that they understood these predic¬ 
 tions in the same sense in which they are now understood 
 by the Christian church. From this portion of the work we 
 give the following extracts, which may serve as a fair speci¬ 
 men of the spirited manner in which the whole is executed. 
 
 “ The xlvth Psalm, the nuptial song on Solomon’s contemplated 
 marriage with Pharaoh’s daughter, exhibits the early opinion of 
 David, and the constant opinion of the church, respecting Christ. 
 The holy prophets, ever worshipping with the Messiah in view, in 
 hope of whom they served God day and night, spake of auspicious 
 events as figures of the better hope. Hence they use metaphors 
 too bold for the greatest license of poesy to authorize. The Sire 
 says of the Son, ‘ Thy throne, O God is for ever, and the sceptre of 
 thy kingdom is a sceptre of righteousness.’ And in war this son 
 is every where victorious; whereas Solomon had no war. Solo¬ 
 mon was to die like his father, and have but a limited kingdom; 
 but the God-man, the Lord Christ, was to reign to the ends of the 
 earth, and live as long as the sun and moon should endure? Some 
 questions may here arise. 
 
 “How did David understand his own words? Hear what he 
 says in other Psalms. The Lord said to my Lord, Sit thou on my 
 right hand till I make thine enemies thy footstool. The Lord shall 
 send the rod of his strength out of Zion.—E/c yaapo q tt po ewaQopov 
 tytvtaa at: Before the morning I have begotten thee in the womb. 
 Psal. ex. And Psalm ii. 7, after speaking of the same wars, and 
 subjugation of the Gentile world, he says, ‘ Thou art my Son, to-day 
 have I begotten thee.’ Kiss the Son ******. What is that whisper, 
 that mutter which comes round to my ears *******. You shudder 
 at a begotten God! You shudder ******* 9 I shudder too;—I 
 shudder to see the law and the prophets torn and mangled by a 
 spirit of haughty reason, as Baal’s priests once stoned the servants 
 of the Lord. I shudder to see children of yesterday rise up against 
 
Matthew Henry at Hackney . 433 
 
 the once pure and primitive faith of the whole world. The e-raves 
 themselves shudder to think that the fathers should suffer for the 
 
 rue religion, which their children now destroy; to think that they 
 should die for the Saviour, while a presumptuous offspring ‘crucify 
 the Lord of glory. Can mortals speak at all of the Divine Essence 
 but under the figures of Creator, Father, Lord, and Judge? Can 
 they speak of the sociality in the Godhead at all, or how love and 
 goodness could exist in the Divinity from everlasting without an 
 object in himself, but under the figures of Father, sSn, Spirit, be- 
 gotten, processmn, manifestation, word, wisdom, ineffable genera¬ 
 tion? You quarrel with all these words; and yet you bring forth 
 nothing from all your boasted treasures of reason, which is any 
 thing like an equivalent. J 
 
 “ Be calm on this point; if we all misunderstand the meaning of 
 
 ayul, it is no way likely that Solomon should be wholly ignorant 
 o his father s hope. Let us hear him. He transcribes the words 
 ■». ur * Who hath ascended up into heaven, or descended? 
 
 Who hath gathered the wind in his fists? Who hath bound the 
 waters m a garment? Who hath established all the ends of the 
 
 eart * . iiX ha ik IS Ius name? And what is his son’s name, if thou 
 canst tell. Proverbs xxx. 4. Here a plurality of persons in tho 
 Godhead is most plainly indicated; else it would be the profanest 
 antithesis ever used to bring a mortal sinful man into the highest 
 heavens, and make him of equal family with the Creator and Lord 
 ot all. It any doubt remain, this Solomon makes the Son, the Word 
 the Wisdom of God, say to his eternal Sire, * Thou, Lord, possesses? 
 me in the beginning of thy ways, before thy works of old. I was 
 set up from everlasting, from the beginning, or ever the earth was.— 
 When he prepared the heavens, I was there. When he gave the 
 sea his decree that the waters should not pass his commandment, 
 when he appointed the foundations of the earth; then was I with 
 him, and I was daily his delight, rejoicing always before him; re¬ 
 joicing in the habitable parts of his earth, and my delights were with 
 the sons of men.’—Prov. viii. 22 , &c. 
 
 “ The Wisdom or Word of God is said to proceed from the mouth 
 (or face) of the Most High, being the brightness of the Father’s 
 glory. Eccles. xxiv. 3. Heb. 1. 3. The word Kanah, rendered 
 by the Septuagmt etcriae pc, created me, is also understood ofposses- 
 s * on * ^ sa ‘ d * n ' 3 ' 5 Kaniti, I have gotten or possessed a man from 
 the Lord, Gen. iv. 1 . God could not create his own wisdom. There¬ 
 fore the Lord possessed the Word or Wisdom, who was set up from 
 everlasting. *Thou art my Son, to-day have I begotten thee.’ Psal. 
 ii. 7. Now, there never was either morning or evening, or noon or 
 night, with God. The Son was * set up from everlasting.’ He was, 
 
 ‘ without beginning of days or end of life.’ ‘ In the beginning was the 
 Word, and the Word was with God, and God was the Word.’ John 
 i. 1 . God the Father, according to Methodius, said, ‘Thou ART,’ 
 not thou becamest my Son; indicating that the Son acquired no 
 
 tol, viii.—no. 4. 2l 
 
484 
 
 Review. 
 
 unexisting filiation, the words being understood declaratively, or by 
 way of manifestation, as this author adds in the sequel. Et yap 
 vioq, avru) e<pt] } Kai ov, yeyoyac’ &C. Apucl Phot. Cod. 237, p. 960. 
 
 “ Do not fear to take the holy prophets, the guides of the church* 
 for your guides. My hopes are, that there is yet at the bottom of 
 your hearts, a sincere desire to seek the truth. Pray, pray; and 
 lay your theories aside: a heart unhallowed is not prepared for 
 divine researches. Then the promise is yours; ‘ The meek he will 
 guide in judgment, the meek he will teach his way.’ Psalm xxv. 9. 
 Isaiah, speaking likewise of future things as present, says, * Unto 
 us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given.’ Surely this is not a 
 mere metabole : here is a double geniture foretold, a child born of 
 a Virgin, a Son given to us, for God gave his only begotten Son; 
 and * thanks be to God for his unspeakable gift!” [p. 32—36.] 
 
 The third part contains a critical examination of about 
 five-and-twenty texts from the Unitarian Version, in which 
 the corruptions and false renderings of the sacred text are 
 exposed with great learning and ability. Here, however, 
 the author occasionally breaks out in expressions of indig¬ 
 nation at the efforts made to pervert what he conceives to 
 be the truth, conceived in language rather too strong for 
 the courtesy which marks even the controversies of the 
 present day, though not out of character, in the mouth of a 
 pillar of orthodoxy, who passed more than a century ago 
 from his labours to his rest. A wish impartially to dis¬ 
 charge our duty induces us to extract a specimen of this 
 vituperative eloquence, in which we would gladly have seen, 
 with the wisdom of the serpent, a somewhat larger infusion 
 of the gentleness of the dove. 
 
 “ Mark i. 3. ‘ Prepare ye the way of the Lord.’ More than 
 twenty times you notice Griesbach, as having omitted such and 
 such a word, or a reading. Our regret is, that he had not omitted 
 the whole of the New Testament. He notices the preceding verse 
 of the Codex Argenteus, or Gothic version of the four Gospels by 
 Bishop Ulphila, written about the year 350; but he fails to cast 
 his eye on a remarkable variation in that version on the adjoining 
 text. Raiiitos Waurkeith Staigos Goths cnsaris: that is, 
 word for word, ‘ Right work the stages of our God.’ This reading 
 is in unison with Isaiah xl. 9, 10. Say to the cities of Judah, Be¬ 
 hold your God. Behold the Lord God will come with a strong 
 hand. He shall feed his flock like a shepherd, &c.’ Who is this 
 Adonai Jehovah, this good shepherd that laid down his life for 
 his sheep, whom Griesbach could not see? This reading is proof 
 enough that the good, the very laborious Ulphila, who preached 
 the burning charity of his Lord Jehovah in the colder regions of 
 
Matthew Henry at Hackney. 485 
 
 C/mS^ 1 " 5 “ 0t reaChC<l 11,0 yC ‘ m ° re fr0M ” regi ° nS ° f ra,i0nal 
 
 fathers 1 * iVu^' 0 1 '" i'r “ ° henent over the pride and error of your 
 
 sent over .heT o thos jt ,P rofe f ors, those Griesbachs, that they 
 
 were sent in hnmh| S Ca -" d 'r a * CS '? r t,le P reslj y ler '“n pulpits; tliey 
 were sent in humble simplicity, but returned light and vain and 
 
 cified Adov ' e t imerS * T p y re . turned destitute of faith in a cru- 
 
 eood character and ? Id Sake > the y S a >e Je.us a 
 
 good character and held him up as a pattern of virtue Ah' it 
 
 was this pride of your fathers; it was these professors that sunned 
 
 the foundations for whieh we suffered; for wh kh our Mam™ 
 
 yo“u™ .veV Z C ha“d ‘,h S Wi ‘ h Pa , Pa ' R0me ' 1 hear fl»«eri y „w 
 
 filled Twfl’ ci U ! lose racn been now olive, whose bones once 
 Gloucester, and Oxford with light, they would all 
 have followed .he new light of Leyden professors! This is a species 
 of filial impiety not to be endured. It is equivalent to a declare 
 
 aTeiitmn' hLT ld h a "t Kl ? -lar“es ?or Smg 
 
 a religion, little of which they believed. It fills our bosoms with 
 anguish and indignation; yea, with momentary sentiments just the 
 
 lefrToTl 1 “VT* Whi , ch OUr noble suffered Were we 
 
 tit to a choice between the corruptions of popery, and the evils of 
 
 the present apostasy our one prayer, our sole wish, would be for the 
 full return ot the catholic superstitions. Oh! give me Popery • Oh * 
 give me Popery with all the grossities of the dark ages? /would 
 pray at every altar, I would kneel at every shrine—I would make no 
 scruple of adoring the crucifix, while I saw there ‘the Lord of 
 glory, compared with declamations on the virtues of ‘the legiti¬ 
 mate son of Joseph; —‘ the founder of the Christian religion ’ 
 hile popery flourished, we had an atoning altar; we had a Media*, 
 tor, a second Adam, the Lord from heaven. To-day we have a faith 
 which seems to lower and lower its credenda, or things to be believed 
 m every succeeding publication. «O daughter of Zion; what shall 
 I equal to thee, that I may comfort thee; for thy breach is great like 
 the sea; who can heal it ? Thy prophets have seen vain and foolish 
 things for thee; they have not discovered thy iniquities.—But let 
 
 jj? 26?” ^p. the SaIVati ° n ° f G ° d -- Lam -»• 13. 
 
 ^ The concluding part of the discourse is an appeal to the 
 Christian fathers, on four grand points. 1 . That the Son 
 existed before the Blessed Virgin. 2 . That he is one sub- 
 
 F*?th C eV V, 4 h Th ff then , 3 ‘ J hat he is co-eternal with the 
 rather. 4. That he is subordinate to the Father, in no other 
 
 sense than as God of God, Light of Light, &c. In this part 
 
 BulfweYebVlred a work ^ himself la ^>y »f Bishop 
 
 As a supplement to Matthew Henry at Hackney, is added 
 a letter entitled, “ Strictures on the Unitarian Writings of 
 
486 
 
 Review. 
 
 hunt Carpenter, LL.D. of Bristol.” This letter, vve fear, will 
 try at once the Doctor's learning and his patience : but we 
 must leave him to it, as our limits will not allow us to enter 
 on the subject. We cannot, however, but wish that its 
 author, while writing in his own character and person, had 
 not indulged in language so closely bordering upon vulgar 
 abuse as the following. 
 
 “ The cry of ‘ false readings, spurious texts, modern corruptions,’ 
 I generally find to be a hoax of heresy: my deliberate opinion of 
 Griesbach is, that he is a jack-a-lantern, leading the well-disposed 
 student to the morass.” [p. 107.] 
 
 “ ‘The word was A-God.’ Why, Dr., do you return five times to 
 this text in different parts of your book ? I perceive that it chafes 
 and gravels you very much, and if you are not satisfied, how should 
 your English reader be satisfied, whom you profess to guide? you 
 might as well lay your axe and paddock aside, as you never will 
 either fell the tree, or stub up its roots. The Word was God.” 
 [p. 115.] 
 
 This is not a mode of conducting controversy, by which 
 the cause of Truth or Christianity can be a gainer, and we 
 always regret that any of its advocates should resort to it. 
 There are also some other matters, in this able and spirited, 
 rather than temperate work, though, on the whole, vve cor¬ 
 dially recommend it to the notice of our readers, which we 
 might feel disposed to censure \ but, we are not sorry to 
 plead want of space, as an excuse for not further quarrelling 
 with an author, whose book has afforded us much real plea¬ 
 sure, and who, though anonymous, has justly entitled him¬ 
 self to our thanks. 
 
 II Pastore Incantato, a Drama: Pompeii, and other Poems. 
 By a Student of the Temple. London. Hurst and Robin¬ 
 son. 1823. pp. 136. 
 
 The Star in the Past; with other Poems . By Josiah Conder. 
 London. Taylor and Hessey. 1824. pp. 195. 
 
 In the present ambitious age for writing, it is impossible 
 for a periodical journal like this to keep pace in its notices 
 with the mass of poetical publications, which are almost 
 daily issuing from the press. All we can hope to do is, to 
 vary our pages with a few of the most striking, or of those 
 which present some peculiar qualities to claim regard, and 
 to excite our sympathy. It is not that there are not more 
 
H Pastore Incantato , $c. 437 
 
 splendid exhibitions offals in other unreviewed produc¬ 
 tions, which might awaken in the mind of the reader a more 
 powerful interest, that we have selected those at the head of 
 oui aiticJe,—but that, with a large share of poetical and moral 
 i • r ^ 9 1 P°f sess unpretending modesty of merit 
 
 u^bn/S 11 ^ ^ ^° kS f0rn i° great P°P ular celebrity, renders 
 us but the more desirous that it should be brought forward 
 
 to that point of observation which may both enhance its 
 charms, and render its excellencies appreciated. 
 
 1 he first of these productions would not, we are informed 
 
 vhirb L r !^ Ce ri ha i Ve met , the public e y e > but for a misfortune 
 which seems likely to close upon the author, at once, the 
 
 doors both of life and fame; that they are sent into the 
 
 world merely to gratify the simple, but very natural, desire 
 
 something, however trivial, behind him, which 
 
 may tend to prolong his memory among those whom he has 
 
 Itrurt an< ? tbat be bas ratber chosen to con¬ 
 
 struct this little funeral pile with his own hands, composed 
 
 basbeen °ut of a largercollection of juvenile and long- 
 neglected materials, than to leave the care of them to any 
 individual, whose partiality might have made him less 
 paring in the selection.—This declaration was to us, when 
 we hrst took up the volume, fraught with a very touching 
 interest, but our interest has been greatly increased by a 
 perusal of the book, which, immature as some of its 
 productions are, contains much to excite our admiration. 
 It is not often that young poets stride at once into the rio-ht 
 track of improvement; they often, perhaps we may say, they 
 most generally, take some reigning favourite for their model 
 of imitation, and rarely indeed drink so deep of the waters 
 ot hirce, as to be inspired with the warmer love of those 
 e der woithies of British song, which, notwithstanding the 
 richness of succeeding years, must ever be recommended as 
 the noblest and the best exemplars to the young aspirant of 
 poetical renown. It was therefore delightful to us to find 
 at the commencement, that our divine Milton occupied so’ 
 far the thoughts and admiration of our student, as to furnish 
 him with the direct model for his principal poem: we 
 regarded it as a good omen, and we have not been disap¬ 
 pointed in the fruits of his attentive study. 
 
 “ II Pastore Incantato,” or “ The Enchanted Shepherd ” 
 is constructed on the plan of Comus, to which, in the con¬ 
 duct of the piece, it avowedly bears resemblance. This cir¬ 
 cumstance may, with some, be regarded as detracting from 
 the originality of the author’s imagination, but we confess 
 
488 
 
 Review. 
 
 ourselves disposed to lose sight of this idea, in finding also 
 the language and demeanour of Milton so happily pressed 
 into his service as to raise, both in its own qualities and 
 comparative associations, a very refined species of poetical 
 delight.—The subject matter of the drama is set forth, as in 
 the case of the Greek tragedians whom Milton followed, 
 by the first interlocutor; nor can we give a better insight into 
 its simple plot, than by the following highly poetical extract 
 from the mouth of the guardian spirit who descends:— 
 
 Beyond the furthest range of mortal thought, 
 
 Or stretch of human fancy, there we dwell 
 In bowers of amaranth, whose office ’tis, 
 
 At Jove’s command, which we with joy obey. 
 
 To watch o’er those frail creatures who inhabit 
 Yon clay-worn speck, thick set with toils and snares. 
 Invisible to all of unpurged soul: 
 
 Yet, to those spiritual few, whose sublime taste 
 Affects the better half of their mixed nature, 
 
 We sometimes lift the curtain of dull sense, 
 
 Or else, in dreams, unveil our purer essence. 
 
 Thus, with that best by far of Grecian sophs, 
 
 The divine Socrates, we nightly communed ; 
 
 So, too, the Hesperian poet,* esteemed as mad 
 By fools or knaves, held frequent converse with us. 
 
 But now my errand lies to yon green isle 
 Fixt in the Atlantic: and best haste is due; 
 
 For mark how Titan threats his flaming steeds, 
 
 And they, ere now, have bathed their burning hoofs 
 In the’ ocean flood.—Evening comes on apace: 
 
 And now the’ enamoured lady of the moon 
 Looks sweet upon yon slope facing the south, 
 
 And through rich clustering vines, with rubies hung, 
 
 That mantle a cave’s mouth, peeps in to spy 
 The shepherd youth—whose genius I am. 
 
 This stripling youth, behoves it I should tell, 
 
 Tending long time his simple rural charge 
 In this still vale—at best a shepherd seeming 
 To casual eyes—yet such repute hath gained 
 Of various learning, which true goodness heightens, 
 
 Among the neighbouring hinds, who feed their flocks 
 On these blue hills, that they far other deem 
 His birth and parentage; and oft when eve 
 To meditation prompts, they fold their sheep, 
 
 And hither hie, to drink at wisdom’s fount: 
 
 For he will tell them of the’ all-bounteous Pan ; 
 
 Of the starry train that watchful Hesper leads; 
 
 * Tasso. 
 
489 
 
 II Pastore Incantato, fyc. 
 
 ^ ^ 10se herbs, fruits, flowers, medicinal, 
 
 Inch earth’s green lap adorn : these, and much more, 
 
 W ith grateful interlude of voice or pipe, 
 
 Their mountain melodies have much endeared him 
 To all the country round: but now, alas! 
 
 Consuming thought has well-nigh snapt his stem, 
 
 As some pretend, or the black noxious dew 
 ing his trade too late) nipt his young bud ; 
 
 The youth falls sudden sick, and so hath lain' 
 
 For many a day, wasting his life in sighs. 
 
 Him to restore, if possible, are come 3 
 From distant land, his three fair lady sisters, 
 
 Who watch about his couch both night and day, 
 
 And with kind looks and deeds lighten his wo; 
 
 ^5! r '. s wors ^ yet told. In this same isle, 
 
 Within the spent womb of an old volcano, 
 
 Whose frightful cliffs, fire-scarred, in hideous forms, 
 Through clinging ivy and vile scrambling weeds, 
 
 Like haunted ruins frown, a daemon dwells, 
 
 Called Setebos, whom Sycorax adored. 
 
 To this spot, by attraction, all things base, 
 
 Grovelling, or venomous, which the soil produces, 
 
 As to their wicked centre nightly troop; 
 
 And from the ragged entrails of the rocks, 
 
 And hollow-eaten caverns, where they hive. 
 
 An ugly swarm of uncouth things crept fortlx 
 To pay their homage to this deity. 
 
 To-night, the base-born god, by long prescript, 
 
 Deduced from fabulous times, hath leave to roam 
 The island through, and vex, or vent his spite, 
 
 Where Jove permits, on man, beast, shrub, and tree; 
 
 This brings me down; for well I know what deep 
 Infixed antipathy there ever rankles 
 Betwixt the evil and good, and therefore fear 
 Some fresh attempt upon the innocent head 
 Of him I guard, though it shall harmless prove. 
 
 First will I fetch my round, and then attend 
 Till Ariel comes, for whose light services 
 I shall find much occasion ere morn breaks. 
 
 ( Guardian Spirit disappears.) 
 
 On the Guardian Spirit’s disappearance, Ariel is intro¬ 
 duced. His song we quote entire, no less from the rich 
 imagary with which it teems, than from that felicitous 
 imitation of Milton’s style, to which we have alluded, and 
 which we are persuaded no one familiar with the Comus, 
 can peruse, without being recalled to that divine produc¬ 
 tion. 
 
490 ' 
 
 Review. 
 
 Enter Ariel, singing. 
 
 When the sun went down the sky, 
 
 Of his all-glorious train was I; 
 
 On a purple cloud I sate, 
 
 To augment his setting state. 
 
 Seas of blood and sands of gold, 
 
 Broad lakes, mountains, castles old— 
 
 A thousand forms I there portrayed, 
 
 In a thousand hues arrayed, 
 
 More rich—more fair, than fan or screen 
 Ever waved by Indian queen— 
 
 Than tropic plume, or deep-dyed ore 
 Of Peru’s mines, or gemmed store, 
 
 Which Thetis in dark caves doth hide, 
 
 To light her pomp, or deck her pride. 
 
 Now May’s moon is mounted high. 
 
 My delight is most to fly 
 Round and round her shining zone, 
 
 To behold whatever’s done 
 On half the outside of this earth— 
 
 Sights of wo, or scenes of mirth. 
 
 My name is Ariel, he who wrought 
 All that the noble Prosper sought; 
 
 But now a higher post I fill, 
 
 Constant friend to virtue still; 
 
 Never of evil deeds make I my boast, 
 
 Like some, assuming shapes of unlaid ghost 
 Or megrim quaint, who love to joke 
 With fuddled swains and harmless village folk; 
 But here upon this tufted knoll. 
 
 Whose luscious perfume might control 
 The subtler sense of purest spirit, 
 
 To own its transcendental merit. 
 
 With breath of violets consecrate, 
 
 Pale-faced primrose, blowing late, 
 
 And musk-rose, mixed with evening flower. 
 
 On whom day’s eye hath not the power 
 To make them once their lids unclose, 
 
 Till the spruce gnat his trumpet blows— 
 
 Shrill signal to the cobweb race 
 Their elfin empress’ court to grace, 
 
 Spread on some verdant carpet near 
 While the welkin burneth clear. 
 
 On this sweet spot his summons I observe, 
 Who bade me here, without plea or reserve 
 Of elsewhere duty, or ill-timed pleasure, 
 
 Patient wait his sovereign leisure, 
 
 Who holdeth a commissioned ’hest 
 
491 
 
 II Pastore In'cantato, fyc. 
 
 V rom Jove, the greatest and the best, 
 
 This night to be performed and done. 
 
 Ere the rising of the sun, 
 
 About the youth of whom much hath been said. 
 
 And much more will be aread 
 In after time, if hope speak true. 
 
 Here must I wait, with reverence due, 
 
 The soon approach of him whose strict command 
 Shall be obeyed with head, heart, voice, and hand. 
 
 [p. 10—13.] 
 
 We are next presented to Setebos the Demon, who in the 
 cavern of his volcano, surrounded by rocks and cypresses, 
 and crowned with nightshade, fulminates his portentous 
 threats and spells against the youth who has interrupted the 
 rites of his ancient votaries. His three Sisters in watch 
 around his couch in the romantic grotto, vary the scene, and 
 with the disclosures in their dialogue considerably heighten 
 our interest in the shepherd’s fate. Setebos summons up 
 Hecate to his aid: she comes in storm and tempest, and 
 to the sickness under which the shepherd labours, they in¬ 
 flict all that they are permitted by the guardian spirit—the 
 plague of nightmare. The following beautiful little com¬ 
 position might safely be placed upon a par with the touch¬ 
 ing simplicity of our ancient ballads :— 
 
 A dreadful Storm, with thunder and lightning. 
 
 Ariel enters. 
 
 “ This is the most terrific storm I ever 
 Encountered yet. The elements seem mingled; 
 
 The boisterous sea buffets the angry shore; 
 
 The deep foundations of this Emerald Isle 
 Quake; vivid lightnings rend heaven’s stedfast pillars, 
 
 And bring its crashing dome about one’s ears; 
 
 The moon and the stars are hid behind the clouds: 
 
 I’ll creep into this cocoa-nut shell, and wait 
 Till it subside, and I can dry my feathers. 
 
 Meanwhile, for lack of company, I’ll sing: 
 
 I would not be compelled to ride 
 Over this stormy sea, 
 
 For all the gold that misers hide 
 Under the hawthorn tree. 
 
 I would not be obliged to run 
 Upon this sharp sleet air. 
 
 To be made monarch of the Sun, 
 
 Without a monarch’s care. 
 
492 
 
 Review. 
 
 My life, upon this wind or wave, 
 
 I should not deem secure; 
 
 But, ah! what will not mortals brave, 
 
 Led on by fortune’s lure ? 
 
 Yet if but one small tear ’twould dry, 
 
 On the lid of a maiden fair, 
 
 I’d climb these waves, though mountains high, 
 
 And skim the sharp sleet air. 
 
 ‘ Heigh, ho! 
 
 ‘ The rain and the snow! 
 
 ‘ But fast come, soon go!” [p. 36—38.] 
 
 The Guardian Spirit in the end presents himself to the 
 Sisters in the form of a Hermit, and with Ariel’s assistance 
 frees him from the enchantment, by aspersion of holy water 
 and intervention of the Sacred Volume illuminating his 
 eyes,—an imagination managed in perfect accordance with 
 the Doric spirit of the drama. The emotions of the youth 
 in awakening from his trance, are thus beautifully painted. 
 
 Methought I heard the voice of some one calling; 
 
 Distant at first it seemed, and scarce perceived ; 
 
 But as it nearer grew dissolved my dream,— 
 
 Not therefore less delightful; for such dream, 
 
 Never till now, though often visited 
 By Morpheus’ train, abused my fantasy— 
 
 Never, till now, did such atrocious forms 
 Of black-mouthed monsters dog and hunt me down—• 
 
 Me, singled out from all the world beside, 
 
 To be the butt of an invisible hate, 
 
 And an invisible dread of powers unknown. 
 
 I have been waked from sleep by the shrill lark, 
 
 Soaring betimes to welcome the young day; 
 
 I have been roused by Autumn’s mellow horn, 
 
 Winding its rich voluminous notes along 
 The vaulted night, until the welkin warbled; 
 
 And I have heard such sounds of harp and lute, 
 
 In dulcet chorus joined, as made me hope 
 The morning of the retribution come; 
 
 I have been gently called by one I loved, 
 
 And the first object was her cherub face; 
 
 But, oh! to be awaked from such a dream— 
 
 So horrible—by this celestial voice, 
 
 And find it but a dream—surpasses all! [p. 52,53.] 
 
 The Guardian Spirit on his disinthralment enters into 
 benevolent communion with him. Ariel winds up the con¬ 
 verse with an interlude of perhaps yet greater beauty than 
 
II Pastore Incantato, §c. 493 
 
 the one already quoted : a band of shepherds, crowned with 
 garlands, appear in front of the grotto, and chant their du¬ 
 teous salutations on the youth’s recovery, and the drama 
 concludes with music, dancing, and rural entertainment. 
 
 Our readers will see, that the basis is slight upon which 
 the fabric of the drama is built, but we do not know that it 
 is slighter than that of Comus. What principally charms 
 in the production, is not so much the progress of the story, 
 as the chaste and antique diction, the Doric simplicity and 
 imagery, that pervade the fable. We might select nume¬ 
 rous delicate verses to illustrate this curiosafelicit as, but the 
 passages already cited must suffice. If the author in his 
 admiration of Milton has erred in aught, it is, we think, in 
 introducing too many of those discords in his versification 
 which his master uses j but, which in modern times, though 
 they often corue upon the memory with a certain varying 
 charm, are as little acceptable to the general ear, as inimical 
 to harmony in even that of a poetical reader, unless managed 
 with extreme caution, judgment, and address. But what¬ 
 ever slight objection might be raised on this account, to 
 the versification of the drama, none can be brought to 
 attach to the second principal poem in the collection,“which 
 has throughout a harmony, clear, full, and flowing, combined 
 with the same pure fancy and beautiful description. The 
 destruction of Pompeii is a subject that has, if we mistake 
 not, more than once been chosen for poetical lament, but 
 never with so much success as in the present case. A vein 
 of the richest fancy runs through it, and there is something 
 both remarkably original and expressive in the commencing 
 figure of the following extract, and melodious in the con¬ 
 clusion. 
 
 “ The shroud of years thrown back, thou dost revive, 
 Half-raised, half-buried, dead, yet still alive! 
 
 Gathering the world around thee, to admire 
 Thy disinterment, and, with hearts on fire, 
 
 To catch the form and fashion of the time 
 When Pliny lived, and thou wert in thy prime; 
 
 So strange thy resurrection, it may seem 
 Less waking life than a distressful dream. 
 
 Hushed is this once gay scene, nor murmurs more 
 The city’s din, the crowd’s tumultuous roar. 
 
 The laugh convivial, and the chiming sound 
 Of golden goblets with Falernian crowned: 
 
 The mellow breathings of the Lydian flute, 
 
 And the sweet drip of fountains as they shoot 
 
494 
 
 Review. 
 
 From marble basements; these, all these are mute! 
 
 Closed are her springs, unnumbered fathoms deep, 
 
 Her splendid domes are one dismantled heap, 
 
 Her temples soiled, her statues in the dust, 
 
 Her tarnished medals long devoured by rust; 
 
 Its rainbow pavements broken from the bath, 
 
 The once-thronged Forum an untrodden path; 
 
 The fanes of love-forgotten cells, the shrines 
 Of vaunted gods inurned in sulphur mines, 
 
 The’ abodes of art, of luxury, and taste; 
 
 Tombs of their once-glad residents—a waste 
 
 O’er which compassionate years have gradual thrown 
 
 The trailing vine, and bade the myrtle moan.” [p. 71—73.] 
 
 The catastrophe is faithfully described after the younger 
 Pliny, and with much pomp of language. 
 
 “ From the deep womb of mountains, soars on high 
 Columnar smoke, and heaves into the sky,— 
 
 Then, like the broad black branches of the pine, 
 
 Spreads o’er the plains, a dark, funereal sign! 
 
 And showers, as driven by Pluto’s angry ghosts, 
 
 Its withering ashes o’er those charming coasts. 
 
 Vesuvius burns; earth quakes; the thunders roar; 
 
 And the rocked sea shrinks startled from the shore. 
 ******* 
 
 -“Then the burning mould 
 
 Quick, quick impression took; the young, the old, 
 
 Flying in haste, by Death’s stern hand were fixt, 
 
 And with the molten lava intermixt, 
 
 Nor dropt the’ uplifted arm with decent grace, 
 
 Nor form composed, to meet his hot embrace; 
 
 Ev’n as they fled, they perished—they remained, 
 
 And still the tide flowed on, the ashes rained. 
 
 Three days, three nights crept past in blackest shade, 
 
 Then broke the clouds, and sick the sunshine played, 
 
 Not on high towers and temples, which the morn 
 Had erst been proud to worship and adorn, 
 
 Not on Pompeii! but her awful ghost,— 
 
 A mass of ashes whitening all the coast!” [p. 74, 77.] 
 
 Of the smaller pieces we select the following. 
 
 To fiU the Title Page of a beautiful Collection of Lace Pattei’ns. 
 “Lady, when I this chronicle of taste, 
 
 Taught in Arachne’s school, much pleased, regard, 
 
 And think how British fair ones have wrought hard, 
 
 With burnished needle, and bright armour placed 
 On their white fingers, to make good the waste 
 
495 
 
 II Past ore Incant at o, fyc. 
 
 W hich envious years (because a lady’s bloom 
 They may not injure) lavish on her loom— 
 
 I m proud to be selected for their bard, 
 
 Comparing the same beauteous Arabesques, 
 
 Of various pattern, flowered or foliate, 
 
 With those so much esteemed of Raphael’s fresques 
 Which all admire, but few dare emulate; 
 
 Or to the divine skill of Grecian dame, 
 
 Whose works the ancient world has given to fame.” [p. 98.] 
 
 . sonnet of equal beauty, and Miltonic cadence, occurs 
 in page 94 but we are more desirous of finding room for 
 the following fragment, which, we will be bold to say, con¬ 
 tains a finer personification of Death, than any in the whole 
 compass of our poetry. 
 
 “(a fragment.) 
 
 * * * * 
 
 “ I saw Death standing with his tapers there, 
 
 Not darkly glimmering, but intensely bright: 
 
 All high uplifted—whose strong glare shot down 
 On his fair shining countenance, direct, 
 
 Sickening suffusion of unearthly light— 
 
 Erect he stood—not the spare grisly form 
 Of monkish terror carved in effigies, 
 
 But a most beautiful youth with damask cheek— 
 
 Cupid of hell!—sweet cherub of the tomb! 
 
 His profile somewhat sharpened—in his eye 
 Beamed tenfold life and never-dying fire. * 
 
 I saw him thus—and I perchance had loved him 
 But for the strange unnatural union 
 Of qualities and shape so much opposed. 
 
 He spake not, and the waxen pageants round, 
 
 His fair attendants equal silence held— 
 
 Each in his hand a curious garland bore 
 Of rosemary, violet, and the mingled hues 
 Which erst allured Proserpine in the vale 
 Of charming Euna:—one peculiar flower 
 Bloomed there ’midst evergreens, the yew, the bay, 
 
 Holly and cypress, Death’s own favourite flower. 
 
 On earth, ’tis called Ephemeron—with awe 
 I touched it—down it fell, reduced to dust, 
 
 Emitting thence odours more rank and faint 
 Than lawless poppy or the unholy bane— 
 
 Death smiled to see his bauble thus destroyed!— 
 
 * * * * 
 
 I saw no scythe—his final purposes 
 Are all accomplished by his silent breath. 
 
 Surged up the nostrils of the fated wretch 
 
496 
 
 Review. 
 
 Whene’er he comes to kiss the sons of men 
 
 And take them home to dwell at peace with him— 
 
 * * * * 
 
 O beauty, never can I love thee more, 
 
 For ne’er wert thou in such perfection seen 
 As in that beautiful emblem of decay.” 
 
 * * * * [p. 88—90.] 
 
 This is assuredly a singular and most original production: 
 regarded as a youthful composition, it is an extraordinary 
 conception, and if, (which we sincerely desire,) the author’s 
 life should be spated, and his mind still continue to be 
 directed to these pursuits, we feel persuaded that the glow¬ 
 ing fancy which produced it, will give forth other creations 
 of a very high order indeed. We do not, however, regard 
 his taste, pure as it is in the main, to be fully formed at pre¬ 
 sent, having pencilled down some considerable inaccuracies 
 and affectations of expression, the natural consequences of 
 immaturity ; but these are so few, in comparison with the 
 elegancies, that we have little care to describe them. The 
 volume, we may remark, is dedicated to Mr. Wiffen, and 
 contains, besides, some verses addressed to that gentleman, 
 with a Lemon gathered in Tasso’s Garden, in a strain of 
 delicate compliment, and of virtuous sentiment, that do no 
 less honour to the heart than the head of the young writer. 
 They are too long, however, to quote, and we must therefore 
 conclude, by observing that we have not often, of late years, 
 met with a first publication that gives so fair a promise of 
 future excellence. 
 
 But how much soever the Christian reader may admire 
 the power of youthful genius employed upon works of fancy 
 or of fiction, it is when he reverts to subjects connected 
 with the best interests of man, that he feels the purest gra¬ 
 tification, and the greatest disposition to abandon his mind 
 to the imaginations and pictures of the muse. Sacred sub¬ 
 jects, however, though to a contemplative mind they lay 
 deeper the foundation of pleasure and improvement, and 
 give that foundation a solidity capable of bearing a more 
 towering structure, is proportionally more difficult to build 
 upon, so as to suit, in any successful degree, the architecture 
 to the grandeur of design. The majesty and beauty, more¬ 
 over, of the sacred poetry, in the inspired volume, present 
 a foil to all merely human attempts, the effects of which 
 never have been, and never can be wholly overcome. 
 
 A feeling of inadequacy, in this respect, has deterred 
 many from attempting sacred subjects at all, whose spiritual 
 
The Star in the East. 497 
 
 inclinations would otherwise have led them to exercise their 
 talents on the sublimities or attractions of the dealings of 
 God toman; whilst the far greater number of our poets have 
 prefened that easier path, which lies through the passions 
 of mankind, surrounded by merely sublunary scenes. Few 
 indeed are those who can say 
 
 “ Into the heaven of heavens, His vast abode, 
 
 I have presumed, an earthly guest, to enter, 
 
 And draw empyreal air.” 
 
 There are many stages, however, in sacred poetry, between 
 supereminent success and total failure, and we always hail 
 with great cordiality every attempt to recommend serious 
 and solemn themes to our affections, through the medium 
 of harmonious verse. Mr. Conder, in his “ Star in the 
 Fast,” has introduced us to a poem of most benign aspect, 
 and of no common merit. It is written in blank verse, that 
 most stately and dignified of all our measures, and we must 
 needs say, it is here managed with considerable skill, 
 variety, and effect. The title conveys at once to the mind, 
 the subject upon which the poet treats. The poem opens 
 with a happy allusion to the song of the Angels at the Re¬ 
 deemer’s Advent, 
 
 “ unearthly symphonies, 
 
 Which o’er the starlight peace of Syrian skies 
 Came floating like a dream.” 
 
 The ancient and present state of Jerusalem and the Jews 
 aie next sketched out with much poetical power, and the 
 spread of Christianity through the nations, rapidly, but most 
 spiritedly described. The imagery introduced is admirably 
 characteristic, the versification full and clear, and the sen¬ 
 timents and diction glowing like a prophet’s. Let our ex¬ 
 tracts speak for themselves; India has been spoken of, and 
 the poet now glances at Persia, China, and the Isles of 
 Polynesia. 
 
 “ Land of the Sun, once thy fond idol! Land 
 Of rose-gardens, where aye the bulbul sings 
 His most voluptuous song! Thou mother-land 
 And cradle of the nations! Land of Cyrus! 
 
 (Shall e’er a second Cyrus spring from thee ?) 
 
 Thy palaces have heard a heavenly voice: 
 
 A prophets feet have trod thy burning soil: 
 
 A ‘ man of God’ has left his name with thee. 
 
 Thy sage Mollahs, say, have they yet resolv’d 
 The Christian’s knotty interrogatives ? 
 
 Go, send for aid to Mecca. Ha! the Arab! 
 
498 
 
 Review. 
 
 The Wahabite is there! The Caliphate, 
 
 Shrunk to the shadow of a name, survives 
 But in thy Othman rival, who e’en now 
 Sees Egypt lost, and quails before the Greek. 
 
 Rouse thee! shake off the trammels of a creed 
 Forged to enslave thee. From thy Sooffish dreams 
 Awake to manlier life; and, if thou canst. 
 
 Call up thy ancient Magi from their rest. 
 
 To lead thee to His rising, who returns 
 To gladden thee, with healing in his beams,— 
 
 The Sun whom thou viayst worship. Thy Euphrates 
 Shall flee his ancient channel, to prepare 
 A passage for the monarchs of the East. 
 
 “ And thou, * Celestial Empire!’ teeming hive 
 Of millions! vast impenetrable realm! 
 
 The hour is writ in heaven, thy yellow sons 
 Shall bow at the holy name, ancl women there 
 Relent into the mother. Human loves 
 And softest charities shall in the train 
 Of heavenly faith attend. Thy wondrous wall 
 Is scaled, thy mystic tongue decipher’d now. 
 
 “ Where, in the furthest deserts of the deep, 
 
 The coral-worm its architecture vast 
 Uprears, and new-made islands have their birth. 
 
 The Paphian Venus, driven from the West, 
 
 In Polynesian groves long undisturb’d 
 Her shameful rites and orgies foul maintain’d. 
 
 The wandering voyager at Taheite found 
 Another Daphne. On his startled ear, 
 
 What unaccustom’d sounds come from those shores, 
 Charming the lone Pacific? Not the shouts 
 Of war, nor maddening songs of Bacchanals; 
 
 But, from the rude Morai, the full-toned psalm 
 Of Christian praise. A moral miracle! 
 
 Taheite now enjoys the gladdening smile 
 Of Sabbaths. Savage dialects, unheard 
 At Babel, or at Jewish Peiitecost, 
 
 Now first articulate divinest sounds, 
 
 And swell the universal loud Amen.” [p. 10 _13.] 
 
 Greenland, North America, Sierra Leone, and central 
 Africa, come in for their share of this pomp of language and 
 gratulation; the progress of knowledge, circulation of the 
 Scriptures, and signs of the times, are commented on in 
 strains of like devout rejoicing, and the subject is skilfully 
 concluded by a beautiful apostrophe. 
 
 “ 0 Star! the most august of all that clasp 
 The star-girt heav’n, which erst in eastern skies 
 
499 
 
 The Star in the East. 
 
 Didst herald like the light of prophecy, 
 
 The bun of Righteousness,—the harbinger 
 O more than natural day; whether thou track 
 the circuit of the universe, or thrid 
 As with a golden clew, the labyrinth 
 Ot suns and systems, still from age to a^e 
 Augurmg to distant spheres some glorious doom; 
 
 Jure thou thy blessed circle hast well nigh 
 Described, and m the majesty of li^ht ° 
 
 Bending on thy return, wilt soon announce 
 His second advent. Yes, even now thy beams 
 uftuse the twilight of the nations. Lio-ht 
 akes in the region where gross darkness veil’d 
 The people They who in death’s shadow sat, 
 
 Shall hail that glonous rising; for the shade 
 jrrophetic shrinks before the dawning ray 
 That cast !t : forms of earth that interposed, 
 
 Shall vanish, scatter’d like the dusky clouds 
 Before the exultant morn ; and central day. 
 
 All shadowless, even to the poles shall reign. 
 
 , ‘ , -\°! um 1 e of God! thou art that eastern Star 
 ” hlcl \ ,ead f , t0 Christ. Soon shall thy circuit reach 
 Round earth s circumference, in every tooo-ue 
 Revealing to all nations, what the heavens' 
 
 But shadow forth, the glory of the Lord.” [ p . 16—18.] 
 
 ‘ S ° f n ° great length ’ our readers must be 
 satisfied with these quotations from it. The remainder of 
 
 the volume is arranged under the three heads of Sacred 
 
 Domestic, and Miscellaneous Poems. The Sacred consist 
 
 of metrical versions of Psalms and Hymns, alike creditable 
 
 to the piety of our author, and the powers of his muse 
 
 D^fbffV^t Se w!-* We » e tc \ see his “ Monody on the* 
 Death of Ivirke \\ hite, and that charming Reply to Henry’s 
 
 stanzas commencing, - But art thou thus indeed alone?” 
 which first, we remember, introduced us to Mr. Conder’s 
 poetry; and which has always rested on our memory like the 
 fragrance of a sequestered wood-flower, or of music heard 
 amongst the mountains, “ pleasant,” as Ossian beautifully 
 says of departed joys, “ pleasant, but mournful to the soul ” 
 the Domestic Poems disclose and exhibit in a very 
 pleasing light, the amiable qualities of the writer. Many of 
 them remind us, in their unambitious flow and structure of 
 verse, and in the impression made upon the mind by the peru¬ 
 sal, of the sweet, the plaintive, and deep-thoughted muse of 
 Montgomery, who, if we mistake not, has been the model 
 VOL. VIII.—NO. 4. 2m 
 
500 
 
 Review. 
 
 after which they have, although perhap 3 lialf-unconsciously, 
 been built. Let the following tender composition vindicate 
 the justice of our praises. 
 
 « ABSENCE. 
 
 “ Do I not love thee? Yes, how well. 
 
 Thou best, thou only, Love, canst tell: 
 
 For other eyes have never seen 
 How much a look of mine can mean; 
 
 Nor other lips than thine can guess 
 How deep the feeling mine express. 
 
 But thee both eyes and lips have told, 
 
 Most truly, that I am not cold. 
 
 Yet now, in absence, all thou art 
 Rushes afresh upon my heart, 
 
 And makes me feel that heart not yet 
 Has ever half discharged its debt. 
 
 For Memory, as to mock me, brings 
 A crowd of half-forgotten things, 
 
 That Love before had scarcely leisure 
 To think upon, for present pleasure; 
 
 Reproaching me with virtues slighted, 
 
 And deeds of kindness unrequited: 
 
 While shadowy, awful, undefined, 
 
 The Future rises to my mind, 
 
 And as its depths my thoughts explore, 
 
 I seem to feel thine absence more. 
 
 Shuddering I strive to pierce its shade, 
 
 By Love a very coward made; 
 
 Then turn to meet thy smile. But thou 
 Art distant—future—shadowy now. 
 
 Oh, art thou still a breathing form, 
 
 Lovely, and tangible, and warm? 
 
 So parted utterly we seem, 
 
 As though the past were all a dream; 
 
 And thou, as if unearthly, Dearest, 
 
 A hallow’d, saintly thing appearest: 
 
 So long from sight and touch estranged, 
 
 I almost dread to meet thee changed. 
 
 “ Oh, say, do wayward thoughts like these, 
 
 Tender regrets, wild phantasies, 
 
 And vague misgivings, ever find 
 Unbidden entrance to thy mind? 
 
 Oh, it would absence half repay. 
 
 To know my spirit held such sway 
 O’er thine, as that thou couldst not be. 
 
 Nor feel thyself, apart from me. 
 
501 
 
 The Star in the East. 
 
 “ But absence cannot be repaid : 
 
 Fast, fast, the fleeting moments fade, 
 
 That make up life’s allotted sum, 
 
 Brief and uncertain all to come. 
 
 Then let us not consume apart 
 
 The youth and spring-time of the heart. 
 
 Enough has absence proved thy power* 
 
 Return, and I will bless the hour 
 That tells me all my fears were vain, 
 
 And gives me back my home again.’” [p. 110—113. 
 
 endt^T^ The \V SCel f ,a /K e °n , P ?, ems ’ we ma Y mention tha 
 T, \ he V 01ce L 0f th e Oak, as containing poetry of £ 
 very high class : it thus commences: S F y 
 
 “ such may chance to dwell 
 
 W jthin the excavated bound 
 1 hat rudely shapes this oaken cell, 
 
 And closes in its knotty round,_ 
 
 Genius ! with acorn chaplet crown’d, 
 
 Thy hoar antiquity might well, 
 
 If fraught it were with mortal sound. 
 
 Of elder years a legend tell. 
 
 For many a course of sun and shade, 
 
 Tempest and calm, thy growth matured; 
 
 And many a year its circle made, 
 
 The while thy summer prime endured : 
 
 To flood and flame of heaven inured, 
 
 Slow centuries hast thou o’erstaid; 
 
 By stern, majestic might secured 
 
 From storms that wreck, or blights that fade. 
 
 Thou, like a hermit sad and sao-e, 
 
 In silence lone thy dwelling hast: 
 
 Thine aspect is a living page, 
 
 Where times o’erflown their annals cast. 
 
 For, through the watches of the past, 
 
 Thou hast beheld, as age on age 
 Dawn d, hast beheld them setting fast, 
 
 And Time on his long pilgrimage 
 Still hurrying to the last. 
 
 And thou that saw’st them wear away, 
 
 Dost fail. Ev’n as the season’s glide, 
 
 Thy grandeur creeps to sure decay, 
 
 Amid the devastation wide. 
 
 For Time thy giant strength has tried, 
 
 And sparely deck’d, thy branches gray 
 Hang, like old banners, at thy side, 
 
 To mark his conquering sway.” [p, 139 ^ 140 .] 
 
502 
 
 Review. 
 
 There are some images, in other parts of the poem, truly 
 magnificent, but they are too closely intermingled with the 
 main current of moralizing description, to be transferred to 
 our pages without diminishing their effect. The “Verses 
 to the Nightingale” are full as happy; they are fraught 
 with fanciful description, of which the following extract 
 may give some, although an inadequate idea. 
 
 “ To me that song denotes no less 
 Than mirth and inborn happiness, 
 
 That dreams the peaceful night away 
 In living o’er the joys of day. 
 
 To me it a long tale unravels 
 Of airy voyages, Persian travels, 
 
 Gay pranks in summer’s fairest bowers, 
 
 And broken hearts among the flowers; 
 
 And then of England’s landscape mild, 
 
 Spring’s virgin beauties undefiled, 
 
 Her violet-banks, her blue-bell glades. 
 
 Her daisied meads, her greenwood shades, 
 
 The hedge-rows where the may is blooming, 
 
 With tenderest scent the air perfuming, 
 
 The stream through richest pastures winding, 
 
 And tender corn,—of these reminding, 
 
 It seems to speak of all to me 
 In vocal poetry.’' 
 
 We admire many of the Sonnets introduced: w r e think 
 Mr. Conder has fully succeeded in breathing into them that 
 kind of spirit which Wordsworth introduces in his with such 
 imaginative power: they prove with how keen an eye, and 
 how warm a love, the author has regarded nature; nothing 
 can be in better keeping than the picture here presented. 
 
 “ AUTUMN. 
 
 “ A glorious day ! The village is afield: 
 
 Her pillow’d lace no thrifty housewife weaves. 
 
 Nor platters sit beneath the flowery eaves. 
 
 The golden fields an ample harvest yield; 
 
 And every hand that can a sickle wield 
 
 Is busy now. Some stoop to bind the sheaves, 
 
 While to the o’erburden’d waggon one upheaves 
 
 The load, among its streamers half conceal’d. 
 
 We heard the ticking of the lonely clock 
 
 Plain through each open door—all was so still. 
 
 For busily dispersed, near every shock 
 
 Their hands with trailing ears the urchins fill. 
 
 Where all is clear’d, small birds securely flock, 
 
 While full on lingering day the moon shines from the hill.” 
 
 [p. 173.] 
 
The Modern Traveller. 
 
 503 
 
 Others there are of equal beauty, descriptive of other 
 seasons, but our limits restrict us from more particularly 
 adverting to them. We must be satisfied in recommending 
 the volume to the perusal of all, who, like ourselves, value 
 the charm of poetry employed in the cause of virtue, in 
 awakening the mild affections of our nature, and in striking 
 up in our homes and daily haunts, the harmony that flow? 
 from a well-regulated heart, when devoted to innocent and 
 holy themes. We rejoice to see Mr. Conder, whilst avow¬ 
 ing the vanity of these early wishes after literary distinc¬ 
 tion, which have agitated at times the bosoms of the best 
 not neglecting the gift with which he is endowed, and we 
 love the verse with which he has thus presented us, more 
 dearly, from the circumstance of his having learned to “ sub¬ 
 due those vivid shapings of his youth.” The modesty of 
 his pretensions derives a greater charm from this associa 
 tion, and we consider ourselves as having fulfilled no less a 
 duty than a pleasure, in thus drawing, so far as our means 
 enable us, the public attention to a work of such desert. 
 
 The Modern Traveller. Vart III. IV. V. VI. Containin', 
 Syria and Asia Minor. Two Vols. l8mo. pp. 354 355 
 London. Duncan. ’ 
 
 Another portion of this most interesting little work 
 having been completed, we gladly devote a page or two of 
 our review, to bear our testimony to the continued excel¬ 
 lence of the execution of a plan, of which we have already 
 spoken in terms of high, but of most richly merited com¬ 
 mendation. It was originally intended to comprise the de¬ 
 scription of Syria, in two parts; but owing to the peculiar in¬ 
 terest attaching to that country, and the copiousness of the 
 materials which the visits of recent travellers have amassed 
 the Editor thought it more desirable to extend his limits, and 
 to attach to the description of Syria an account of Asia 
 Minor, another interesting portion of the Turkish empire 
 with which it naturally stands in a very close connexion’ 
 For this arrangement he is well entitled to the thanks of his 
 readers, who, in those parts of his valuable compilations 
 which we now warmly commend to their notice, will find, at 
 least, as much to please, to inform, and to interest them’ as 
 they did in the account of the Holy Land, to which Syria 
 and Asia Minor form the most proper succession in a series 
 of travels like these. 
 
 The travellers, upon whose authority these volumes are 
 
504 
 
 Review. 
 
 judiciously compiled are Bellonius, Rauwolf, Moryson, 
 Maundrell, Pococke, Hasselquist, Niebuhr, Van Egmont, 
 Heyman, Dandini, Thevenot, Tournefort, La Roque, D’Ar- 
 vieux, Chandler, Russell, Tavernier, Mallet, Wood, Dawkins, 
 Lucas, Couffier, Picenini, Raffenel, Le Chevalier, Volney, 
 Morritt, Browne, Clarke, Seetzen, Cockerell, Chishull, 
 Buckingham, Burckhardt, Walpole, Light, Bankes, Mangles, 
 Irby, Richardson, Squire, Kinnier, Mackworth, Leake, Beau¬ 
 fort, Kockler, and Jowett. But, besides the Christian 
 Researches of the last-named tourist, the Editor has very 
 properly availed himself of the Journals of Messrs. Connor, 
 Barker, Fiske Palmer, and other active and devoted agents 
 of the Bible and Missionary Societies of Great Britain and 
 America, for illustrating the present state and condition of 
 that interesting portion of the globe, to which they have long 
 and laboriously been endeavouring to restore the light of 
 that pure and holy faith, whose earliest beams illuminated 
 their now dark, degraded, and superstitious inhabitants. 
 
 Among the most interesting portions of a work, the mate- 
 terials for which are thus ample, we place a very spirited 
 account of Shiekh Daher, the Bedouin Arab pasha of Acre, 
 of which he was the second founder, (I. 6—26); the descrip¬ 
 tion of Tyre and Sidon, ancient and modern, (lb. 40—61) ; of 
 the Druses and Maronite Christians, (lb. 74—126); the 
 Cedars of Lebanon, (135—142); Baalbec, (lb. 194—215); 
 Palmyra, (II. 1—36); Damascus, (lb. 37—66); the seven 
 Apocalyptic Churches of AsiaMinor, viz. Smyrna, (lb. 100— 
 118); Ephesus, (lb. 123—134); Laodicea, (lb. 147—149); 
 Philadelphia, (lb. 154—158); Sardis, (lb. 158—164); Thy- 
 atira, (lb. 173, 174); Pergamos, (lb. 174,175). To these we 
 add the very interesting account of Haivali, (lb. 175—194). 
 It must be obvious that a work of the connected nature of 
 this narrative, can afford but few extracts for a review, we 
 cannot however deny ourselves the pleasure of transcribing 
 the Editor’s concluding remarks upon each of the very in¬ 
 teresting countries embraced in the present portion of his 
 work, characterized as they are by good sense, and the 
 liberal yet temperate views of a Christian politician. The 
 account of Syria is thus wound up: 
 
 “ Let us cast a retrospective glance at the country we have been 
 surveying,—a country so highly favoured by Heaven, that it unites, 
 by a happy combination of various properties of soil and climate, 
 the advantages of every zone; of an almost inexhaustible fertility, 
 and capable of supporting a most dense population ; yet, in every 
 age, wasted and depopulated by the ravages of conquerors, the very 
 
The Modern Traveller. 
 
 505 
 
 play-ground of ambition; and now consigned to comparative bar¬ 
 renness and helpless anarchy by a rapacious and cruel despotism, 
 which ‘destroys more than it feeds upon;’—the country of the 
 vine and the olive, the oak and the cedar, the mulberry-tree and 
 the palm,—which can boast of the richest pastures, the finest corn- 
 lands, and the most exquisite fruits,—the birth-place of commerce, 
 the emporium of the East; in a word, the country which numbers 
 among its cities, Tyre and Sidon, Tripoli and Antioch, Baalbec and 
 Palmyra, Aleppo and Damascus. And all this is in the hands of 
 the Turk! What is still worse, the Turks, who form a very small 
 proportion of the inhabitants, though illiterate, are not the roost 
 ignorant; though Mahommedans, are not the least Christian part of 
 the population. Here, religious bigotry is found reigning and raging 
 peculiarly among the hostile votaries of different benighted com¬ 
 munions,—the Greek, the Syrian, and the Papist; while the Bible 
 is almost unknown, and Divine service is performed in a foreign 
 tongue. The Moslem worships his prophet, the Christian prays to 
 the Virgin and the Saints, the Druse to neither; while, in the 
 recesses of Lebanon, the heathen still clings to the infamous rites 
 of the old classical idolatry. Such is Syria! It is not our province 
 to speculate on the changes which future years may introduce. It 
 is certain, that the natives groan for deliverance; and even the 
 Moslems have a superstitious presentiment that their power is 
 drawing to its termination. * It is surprising,’ says a recent tra¬ 
 veller,*‘to hear the universal desire expressed by all classes of 
 people in this country, that a European Christian power should be 
 induced to come and take possession of it.” Four thousand 
 British troops, this writer thinks, (himself a military man), ‘ with the 
 indubitable assistance of the native inhabitants,’ would easily take 
 possession of all Syria, while 10,000 would suffice to conquer 
 Egypt; without which, indeed, it might prove a precarious posses¬ 
 sion. Acre and El Arish secured, Palestine could oppose little re¬ 
 sistance. A few thousand men garrisoned in the strong posts of 
 the Haouran, Burckhardt says, would effectually keep the peace, 
 and put an end to the exactions of the Arabs. El Hossn, Deir el 
 Kamr, Szaffad, Sanhour, and Kerek, present other strong positions 
 very available in the hands of a European power. The Christians 
 of the Greek church naturally look towards Russia; and when 
 Seetzen travelled, they caught at the idea that he was sent by 
 Melek el Aszfar, the Yellow King, (the title they give to the Rus¬ 
 sian emperor,) to examine the country preparatory to an invasion, 
 for the purpose of delivering it from the Turkish yoke. The Druses 
 and the Arabs, it is thought, would prefer the English, who have, 
 even in the eyes of the Turks, the merit of not being idolaters. 
 Should another Fakr el din or Sheikh Daher, or, were it possible, 
 another Judas Maccabaeus, arise, he might have, in the present dis¬ 
 tracted state of the Turkish empire, with European alliance, a 
 
 * Major Mackworth. 
 
506 
 
 Review. 
 
 fairer opportunity than has yet presented itself, of becoming the 
 liberator of his country. In the mean time, a silent revolution is 
 gradually working by less doubtful and less aggressive means. 
 Religious prejudices are giving way before the influence exerted by 
 British travellers. The Arabic Scriptures are finding their way all 
 over the country. The Terra Santa convents are happily on the 
 decline, while Protestant Missionaries are, for the first time, turn¬ 
 ing their attention to the holy city, and the Syrian Christians. 
 Should the Turkish government be induced to tolerate the measure, 
 it is contemplated to establish a Protestant church at Jerusalem,—• 
 a nobler achievement than Godfrey of Bouillon effected by his sword, 
 and than Tasso has sung. From such a focus, the rays of Scrip¬ 
 tural light would diverge in all directions; and in the footsteps of 
 Christianity would follow, as they ever have done, industry, freedom, 
 social order, and all the charities of life.”—[Part V. pp. 86—88.] 
 
 In the same spirit, though more briefly, does he conclude 
 his description of Asia Minor, and with it the portion of the 
 Modern Traveller now under our review. 
 
 “ But there is no end of describing the wonders of art and the 
 scenic beauties which once rendered this country the richest, the 
 most populous, and the fairest portion of the globe,—the favourite 
 abode alike of its Eastern and Western conquerors, and the chosen 
 residence of their fabled gods. This Eden is now a wilderness— a 
 vast necropolis. The scattered hordes which rove over its most 
 beautiful regions, are, for the most part, tenants of a desert, while 
 the oppressed and degraded population of the towns, may be said 
 to dwell amid the tombs. Except in Egypt, no part of the world 
 exhibits in such striking contrast, the wide extremes of ancient 
 power, grandeur, and genius, in their loftiest achievements, and 
 human nature in the most pitiable state of deterioration and little¬ 
 ness. And perhaps there is no part of the Turkish empire, 
 in which the destructive effects of that hideous and baleful despot¬ 
 ism are more unequivocally conspicuous. But the Porte, by its 
 impolitic jealousy, is undermining its own security, and preparing 
 its own downfall. Its commerce, its population, its resources, its 
 political energies, are rapidly diminishing. Let the Greeks but 
 succeed in Europe, and their example will not be lost.”—[Part VI 
 p. 355—356.] 1 
 
 We are happy to find that the spirited publisher of this 
 beautifully neat little pocket tourist has already expe¬ 
 rienced such encouragement from the public, as to enable 
 him to promise a continuation of the liberal extension of 
 his original engagement, by giving regularly two engravings 
 instead of one, with each part of the work. The four occu¬ 
 pied by Syria and Asia Minor, besides two very neat maps. 
 
W illiam Barlow, A Sketch from Life. 5Q7 
 
 contain prettily executed views of an Arabian banditti in 
 sight of a caravan; the Ruins of Palmyra; a Karmanian 
 waiwode, (or market); a Turkish burying-ground; Smyrna; 
 and a portrait of Hassan Pasha, in his full costume 
 
 K ilham Barlow A Sketch from Lfe. By Esther Hewlett, 
 Author of Eliza Harding, Legend of Stutchbury, & c . 
 18 mo. London, 1823 . pp. 226 . Holdsworth. * 
 
 This little tale for youth, is, as will be perceived from the 
 title page, another production of the useful and judicious 
 pen of Mrs. Hewlett, of whose Eliza Harding we spoke 
 with merited commendation, in a former number of our 
 journal. Its object is to state and to refute the popular ob¬ 
 jections to the truth of revelation in such a form, as to 
 render them attractive to the young and unexperienced, who 
 in these days, in which such extraordinary efforts have been 
 made for the spread of infidelity, are the most exposed to 
 its open or more subtle attacks upon the sublime truths of 
 our pure and holy faith. This she has accordingly done in 
 a very simple story, of a pious family in humble life, whose 
 happiness is attacked by the son being tempted by wicked 
 companions, to quit the path of his fathers for their new 
 ways- of the despondence and despair which followed a 
 conviction of the gloom and uncertainty of his sceptical no- 
 tions, from the reasonings of his faithful pastor with his 
 infidel companions, (taken chiefly by the way from Leslie 
 V^. Gre g or y> fnd other popular writers on the evidences 
 of Christianity, though clothed for the most part in the lan¬ 
 guage of the authoress,) his horrible apprehensions, that as 
 a *f a P°? tate > h e could never be received again into the fold 
 of Christ, and the removal of his fears on witnessing the 
 peaceful departure of his father, in the faith once delivered 
 to the saints. On the whole, we can confidently recom¬ 
 mend the tale, of which we have thus given the outline, 
 (though we should add, by the way, that the infidel perver- 
 ters of the hero meet with their deserts,) not only to our 
 young readers, but to those who have the superintendence 
 of their education, as a very useful antidote to the mischiefs 
 it is intended to prevent. 
 
 We could not, however, avoid smiling at the incongruity 
 into which most writers of fiction seem destined more or 
 less to fall, in making the minister engaged in refuting the 
 advocates of infidelity, who had seduced from his fold one 
 
 
 
 'I 
 
508 
 
 Poetry. 
 
 of the younglings of his flock, appeal to two journeymen 
 watchmakers, as having fagged over Virgil and Horace, as 
 conversant with the precepts of Plato, Lycurgus, Solon, 
 Socrates, Seneca, and as being so well acquainted with clas¬ 
 sical authors, that they were familiar with the indirect 
 confirmation afforded by Juvenal, Longinus, Diodorus 
 Siculus, and others, to the truths of some parts of scrip¬ 
 ture history; though these learned men maintain the infidel 
 side of the argument with infinitely less ability than many 
 of their less gifted associates in impiety have done. 
 
 POETRY. 
 
 THE DEATH OF MUNGO PARK,* BY J. H. WIFFEN, Es«. 
 
 (Concluded from Vol. III. page 406.) 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Tis day—what sounds at so serene an hour 
 Startled the echoing solitudes of Yaour? 
 
 The’ adventurer looked, and saw with careless eye 
 Two Negro horsemen on fleet barbs sweep by, 
 
 Along the vale’s clear waters, which to view 
 Rich with the ravishment of morn—the hue 
 Drawn from the golden-tissued clouds, might charm 
 From Wrath’s wild eve the meditated harm, 
 
 If, eager for destruction, aught of wrath 
 Could tread at such a time so bright a path ; 
 
 But charmed not them: they paused, till on the tide 
 The far Bambarran vessel they descried, 
 
 Winning its way in gladness from the shores, 
 
 The broad wave whitening with the flash of oars. 
 
 To them that sight seemed bitterness: a frown 
 Gloomy as thunder on their brows came down: 
 
 Then turned they to the North impatiently, 
 
 Guilt on their cheek, defiance in their eye: 
 
 And fast, like Heaven’s destroying angels, sped, 
 
 Nor check’d the scourging heel—nor turn’d the head, 
 Till reached the subject plain where Haoussa stands, 
 Lone centinel amid the silent sands! 
 
 The portals are unbarred; they haste—and now 
 Before the high-pavilioned monarch bow. 
 
 * We remember to have stated, that part of the MS. of this poem 
 was lost by accident: it is only of late that it has been recovered, and 
 the lost passages supplied.— Ed. 
 
x Poetry. 
 
 509 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 •Superior was his mien, his brow austere, 
 
 Ploughed by the furrowing thoughts of many a year; 
 And the high spirit of ascendancy 
 Spake in the shining of his lion-eye; 
 
 A soul all passion, haughtiness, and fire. 
 
 And but once kindled, sleepless in its ire. 
 
 Barbaric was his state; a leopard’s hide 
 Hung round his throne, ministrant to his pride; 
 
 His hand the sceptre held; a plate of gold 
 His forehead starr’d, his vest and turban-fold 
 Were purple—at his side a sabre shone 
 L nsheathed, and braced in a Morocco zone. 
 
 He waved his arm, the busy clash of spears 
 "Which ushered in the hasty messengers 
 V as hush d, as swift the crowd’s raised murmurs fall. 
 And all is silence in his armed hall. 
 
 Then to the strangers: “ Who and whence ye are, 
 
 “ And at whose bidding, if for peace or war 
 
 “ Your visit is—resolve me hastily 
 
 The monarch thus: the envoys make reply: 
 
 “ Instant from Yaour we come: by us, O King, 
 
 “ He greets thee: and this message bids us ifring. 
 
 “ —A White Man from the islands of the West ° 
 
 “ Is sailing on the Niger—with the rest, 
 
 “ Ourselves his bark have seen; on wings that bind 
 “ palm’s hewn trunk it flies, and mocks the wind, 
 “ Nor want there sturdy rowers, with the might 
 “ Of numerous paddles to assist its flight. 
 
 “ Furrowing the river into gold, it bore, 
 
 “ At twilight near our village;—the throng’d shore 
 “ Meanwhile we filled with spearmen, but the morn 
 “ Hath spread its wondrous wings and it is gone— 
 
 “ In most admired presumption! with what aim 
 “ The audacious stranger to these deserts came, 
 
 “ In sooth we know not; but of this be sure, 
 
 “ He courts not thine, in his own strength secure: 
 
 “ Nor tribute-gift he sends;—the coral-tree 
 “ Blends with his spoils, but blushes not for thee; 
 
 “ Nor think the golden product of the mine 
 “ Shall gem thy brows or on thy turban shine. 
 
 “ Thus unpermissioned through these realms to go, 
 
 “ A trustless friend or an insidious foe, 
 
 “ Ill with a monarch’s greatness can accord, 
 
 “ Whilst waves around him one revenging sword. 
 
 “ Already distant, and-but why delay? 
 
 “ Thy glory he defrauds, and scorns thy sway.” 
 
510 
 
 Poetry. 
 
 “ Quick! seize your oars—your fleetest camels rein, 
 
 “ And be his doom the prison and the chain." 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Slant shines the Sun ; beneath his fiery wing, 
 
 Rock, wood, and wave are deeply slumbering; 
 
 So deeply slumbering, they with awe inspire 
 The heart which lingers only to admire. 
 
 Viewed by so calm a heaven, whose beams diffuse 
 O’er them—the magic of their evening hues, 
 
 They are like things so lovely in their birth, 
 
 One moment gives, the next recals from earth. 
 
 Ne’er to return : nor long on earth must dwell 
 The sweet-sad glory of that sun’s farewell! 
 
 And, sharing in its glory, there is one 
 Would bless it parting, and bewail it gone; 
 
 And watch through restless vigils of the night, 
 
 Till the red morrow rolls again in light. 
 
 It may not be : to him, alas! is given 
 Night, but in death,—a morrow, but in heaven. 
 Mark’st thou yon giant rock whose summit proud 
 Gathers the rich tints of the passing cloud? 
 
 Bridg’d by its rude romantic battlement, 
 
 There all the fury of the stream is bent: 
 
 Swift, furious, in tumultuous foam it flies 
 Through its dark arch—impatient for the skies. 
 
 Strong are the oars which breast that eddying tide, 
 And firm the hearts which strain them to their pride— 
 Yet seems yon bark reluctant to obey 
 The force that wings it on its idle way. 
 
 Round its slow stem the baffled billows fret, 
 
 In wrath besetting, as with wrath beset, 
 
 And ever as they dash, a fearful sound 
 Starts sadly from prophetic caves around, 
 
 As though the viewless destinies would weave 
 A web of death, and for the tissue grieve. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Now full in view the yawning pass appears; 
 
 O Heaven! the bristling of a hundred spears 
 Is seen upon the rock, like mountain-pines, 
 
 That blaze and tremble when the lightning shines. 
 
 And ostrich plumes on plumes confusedly 
 Dance to and fro athwart the silent sky, 
 
 Now seen, now lost,—till—hastily arrayed. 
 
 Leaps the dark phalanx from its ambuscade. 
 
 Raised is each Negro arm, in act to throw 
 The barbed lance, and bended every bow. 
 
 Hark to the war-shell’s signal! at the sound, 
 
 The rough rock shakes, the waters heave around; 
 
Poetry. 5 
 
 Nears but that victim-bark the fatal flood, 
 
 And all is conflict, agony, and blood. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 It came! O never yet its chieftain knew 
 Fear’s blank amaze where startling danger grew; 
 
 It came! a few contending thoughts might roll 
 O’er the proud grandeur of his daring soul, 
 
 But settled soon; well can it bear the weight, 
 
 Of angry malice and of thankless hate. 
 
 One prayer to Heaven he speeds, one secret sigh 
 Breathed to his country, and his heart beats high. 
 
 Before—around—all eyes are turned to him, 
 
 A graceful vigour shines in every limb, 
 
 Deliberate valour in each glance;—his hand 
 Foints to the foe, and this his last command : 
 
 “ Here ply your stoutest oars: is victory sweet? 
 
 “ The storm lowers round us—’tis the last we meet. 
 
 “ ’Twere madness to retire; what hope, what chance, 
 
 “ Could save you from the swift Massylian lance! 
 
 “ Here then, O lineage of the free! be shown 
 “ Your country’s ancient prowess and your own. 
 
 “ A lordly lion dogs your path to-day, 
 
 “ And since you cannot shun him, you must slay; 
 
 “ Bethink you of each dear domestic tie. 
 
 Homes—altars—wives—beyond that rock they lie; 
 
 “ The refluent billows should you cease to stem, 
 
 “ What agony to you—what grief to them ! 
 
 “ That shrill barbaric signal do ye know ? 
 
 “ Glory to Haoussa! to the White Man wo. 
 
 “ In me no grim barbarian sees his slave, 
 
 “ I win the pass, or perish on the wave.” 
 
 XL. 
 
 These dauntless words his flagging crew provoke, 
 
 They lash the whirling current into smoke. 
 
 Repulse but adds a keener nerve to toil; 
 
 The vault remurmurs as the billows boil. 
 
 Some strain the slackened cordage; some the sails 
 Obliquely wheel to meet the veering gales. 
 
 Hope aids them in their labour, each to each 
 Passes loud greetings; now almost they reach 
 The yawning precipice: on! on ! the foe 
 Bends o’er, to deal the meditated blow. 
 
 But the warped floods flow back: tis vain! unwon— 
 Hark to the shout, and thunder of the gun! 
 
 Peals its loud knell: its clouded path unseen, 
 
 Boots it not now to mark where it hath been: 
 
 That bursting sound, o’er the still desert rolled, 
 
 A fearful tale of agony hath told; 
 
512 
 
 Poetry. 
 
 Wild Echo shouts it through her winding caves, 
 And frighted Niger rocks with all his waves. 
 
 Tis vain! ’tis vain! can the lanced lightning shock 
 The desert vulture from his cloud-crowned rock ? 
 Paints not that storm his savage glories higher— 
 The fluttering plumage and the eye of fire, 
 
 Fixed as in marble, ere the bolt below 
 Wakes his shrill scream—the harbinger of wo. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 From that rude tower no trumpet’s wailing breath 
 Drowned the deep bitter groans of hasting death. 
 But one loud shriek of anger—wild and high, 
 
 From the stained wave to the cerulean sky 
 Rung dirges for the dead: on viewless wing 
 Bounds the swift arrow from its eager string; 
 
 The unquarried rock in ireful hatred hurled. 
 
 As earthquakes rend the pillars of the world 
 Snaps in its fall the mast—with dreadful crash 
 It falls—the lightnings of the waters flash, 
 
 The quivering vessel reels—what now remains? 
 Slowly and sad the fire of battle wanes. 
 
 O’erpowered by numbers, weary, faint, beset— 
 
 Still for the pass they toil—they struggle yet. 
 
 Whilst lives a hand to grasp, an eye to aim, 
 
 The death-shot slacks not in the desperate game. 
 Yet in their thinned array of ranks, the white 
 Could find no truce from blood, no pause for flight. 
 Fixt where they stood, they fell;—dim evening sunk 
 O’er many a cloven crest,—and gasping trunk; 
 
 And varying sounds of triumph and lament 
 Shrill o’er that heaving world of waters went— 
 
 The affrighted camel burst his bridle-rein. 
 
 With blood-shot eye, and snorted o’er the plain. 
 
 The wild hyena snuff’d the distant dead 
 Drew from his woods,—the wolf the covert fled: 
 And e’er that long tumultuous strife is o’er. 
 
 The Afnore-Eagle flapped his wings in gore.— 
 
 XLII. 
 
 And Haoussa’s wrath is wreaked—but not before 
 The plume she worshipped, and the Chief who wore, 
 The battle’s guiding-star—a nation’s pride 
 Cumber with lifelessness the insulting tide. 
 
 Long had he moved—the spirit of each spot 
 Where havoc raged,—now by a random shot 
 Pierced through the naked breast, he rues too late 
 The tribute which destruction claims of hate.— 
 
 Slack falls the arm which waved his followers on, 
 And the fierce lustre of his eye is gone; 
 
513 
 
 Poetry. 
 
 Yet ghastly still it glares: yet his white lip 
 Essays to speak, and toward the tossing ship, 
 
 His failing limbs would press ere life be fled, 
 
 And the rock’s brink denies all farther tread: 
 
 Then like a lofty pine that long has thrown 
 Defiance to the storm, by winds o’erblown, 
 
 Swings on its crag, till by the whirlwind rent, 
 
 It ploughs the mountain in a swift descent, 
 
 Sheer down the abyss in his tremendous fall, 
 
 And Niger shrouds him with a watery pall.— 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Still strove the bark to reach the caverned vault, 
 
 But fierce and fiercer grew the foe’s assault, 
 
 Their Leader fallen, revenge and shame supply 
 To their fierce wants a deadlier energy. 
 
 Fast and more fast the hurtling arrows sound 
 Twanged from the bow, and scattering deaths around. 
 Alas yon Chief! what hope inspires his air? 
 
 A hope but borrowed from supreme despair. 
 O’ermatched by numbers, impotent of aid, 
 
 The shore, rock, river, he by turns surveyed. 
 
 And saw where’er he turned, above, beneath, 
 
 The pomp of ruin and the spoils of death. 
 
 Here in his latest agony, the rower 
 Foregoes his grasp and his abandoned oar 
 Sways on the waters, there, the slave with sighs 
 Thinks of his distant home, and shrieks, and dies. 
 Must he too fall—the barbarous native’s prey, 
 
 Or pine in long captivity away? 
 
 With nought of glory left its martyr, nought 
 But the vain visions of distempered thought, 
 
 And hourly pangs on pangs that ebb and flow, 
 
 To break the still desertedness of wo? 
 
 More welcome rise those rocks in horror’s shape 
 And the dim waters that invite escape. 
 
 Swift at the thought, as on the stern he stood. 
 
 He nerved his soul, and leapt into the flood. 
 
 Thence waved a mournful and a mute adieu 
 For daring friends who will his course pursue. 
 
 When next he looked behind, and saw the deck 
 Deserted,—and his ship a silent wreck; 
 
 Grasping a floating fragment in his hand, 
 
 He cheer’d the swimmers toward the destined strand. 
 O haste! haste! haste! time yet exists to save 
 A life so dear—waft on, thou idle wave, 
 
 And sink, thou lingering Sun !- 
 
 -The billow passed 
 
 Swiftly along,—afar—away at last 
 
514 
 
 Poetry. 
 
 In splendour vanishing;—and night hath blest 
 The sun with slumber in the golden west; 
 
 And thou, poor wanderer of the desert, thou. 
 
 Art but a vain,—a nameless nothing now h— 
 
 Yes, Mother of the Negro! weep—for so 
 He mourned thy anguish in his joy and wo. 
 
 And ere the wild wave closed around his head, 
 
 Ere memory wavered, and ere reason fled— 
 
 Thy form, reveal’d in trembling vision, drew 
 His latest gaze and anguish of adieu; 
 
 Ere the light spirit fluttered to be free, 
 
 It breathed its silent eloquence for thee. 
 
 Then, winged with joy, forsook its earthly sphere 
 To watch thy course through heaven’s eternal year. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 But She whose starry pinions sweep sublime 
 Ocean’s wide wave and earth’s remotest clime, 
 
 Whose eye had hailed, with joy unknown before, 
 
 The olive-plant approach thy ravaged shore, 
 
 Caught the sad tale, in sorrow tore away 
 From her fair brow the coronal of bay, 
 
 And closed with wo and wildness in her air, 
 
 Her smile in gloom, her triumph in despair. 
 
 So the pleased child, in summer’s sultry hours, 
 
 Circles the wild wood for perennial flowers 
 In rosy joy—but should his airy tread 
 Rouse the coiled adder from his flowery bed. 
 
 Chill, speechless, pale, the’ arrested wanderer stands, 
 And the gay wreath falls from his little hands.— 
 
 Yet shall thy triumphs, wanderer! long engage 
 Fame’s sweet-toned voice, and charm the historic page, 
 To after-times the dauntless spirit breathe, 
 
 And form for future brows the laurel-wreath; 
 
 And when that wild-mysterious wave is traced, 
 
 And the rose blossoms in the desert waste, 
 
 Long shall the sculptur’d stone to Europe tell 
 Where Science languished and her Pilgrim fell.— 
 There, when the vestal flame of Truth shall burn, 
 
 And long-lost Justice back to earth return; 
 
 Science and Peace their sister-course pursue, 
 
 And a fresh Eden open on the view, 
 
 There shall the Moor, from lust of rapine freed, 
 
 The humble votary of a milder creed, 
 
 Repairing, pause on thy sepulchral stone, 
 
 And make thy many sorrows all his own. 
 
 Haply e en now thine imaged woes impart 
 Mild pity to the Negress’ anxious heart: 
 
515 
 
 Poetry * 
 
 As the thick rain falls fast, the lightning flies, 
 
 And the red whirlwinds travel through the skies. 
 
 Oft through her lattice will she look, and bless 
 1 hv friendless spirit in the wilderness.— 
 
 But Oh, what tears by manly sorrow shed, 
 
 Or hymn by Beauty warbled for the dead 
 May best accord to charm away the gloom 
 Of widowed wo that mourns his early doom, 
 
 The coial-rock his bed, and Niger’s wave 
 At once his mournful requiem and his o-rave! 
 
 Unwatched by her the kindling of his eve, 
 
 As peril darkened and his hour drew' nio'h 
 Unsoothed by her sweet smile and dulcet breath, 
 that latest pang which triumphs over death. 
 
 Ah! vain the tears of manly grief will flow. 
 
 Or Beauty breathe her melody of wo. 
 
 They cannot lull rapt Fancy, on the win"- 
 
 v° W \ ke !u ch a . tll ® u «j?! L lhat adds fresl > pangs to sorrow's 
 ^ et, when the flight of Time shall waft away Istine. 
 
 the murmurring swell of Feeling’s troubled day 
 Religion shall diffuse—with blest controul 
 Her sacred calm—her sabbath o’er the soul, 
 
 And Joy reveal his visionary form,— 
 
 Bright as the wave that dances from the storm. 
 
 CANTILENA. 
 
 ( From the Spanish of Villegas.) 
 
 * -- 
 
 Bv J. H. Wiffen, Esq. 
 
 I have seen a nightingale, 
 
 On a sprig of thyme, bewail. 
 
 Seeing the dear nest that was 
 Hers alone, borne off, alas, 
 
 By a labourer! I heard 
 For this outrage the poor bird 
 Say a thousand mournful things 
 To the wind, which on its wings. 
 From her to the guardian sky 
 Bore her melancholy cry, 
 
 Bore her tender tears,—she spake 
 As if her fond heart would break; 
 One while in a sad sweet note, 
 Gurgled from her straining throat, 
 She enforced her piteous tale, 
 Mournful prayer and plaintive wail; 
 
 VOL. vm. no. 4. 2 N 
 
516 
 
 Poetry. 
 
 One while with the shrill dispute 
 Quite outwearied, she was mute; 
 
 Then afresh for her dear brood 
 Her harmonious shrieks renewed : 
 Now she fluttered round and round, 
 Now she skimmed along the ground, 
 Now from branch to branch in haste 
 The delighted robber chased, 
 
 And alighting in his path, 
 
 Seemed to say, ’twixt grief and wrath, 
 “ Give me back, fierce robber rude, 
 
 “ Give me back my pretty brood!” 
 And I heard the rustic still, 
 
 Answer, “That I never will.” 
 
 WHAT IS LIFE? 
 
 What is life ?—a rapid stream, 
 
 Rolling onward to the ocean. 
 
 What is life?—a troubled dream, 
 
 Full of incident and motion. 
 
 What is life ?—the arrow’s flight, 
 
 That mocks the keenest gazer’s eye. 
 
 What is life ?—a gleam of light, 
 
 Darting through a stormy sky. 
 
 What is life ?—a varied tale, 
 
 Deeply moving, quickly told. 
 
 What is life?—a vision pale, 
 
 Vanishing while we behold. 
 
 What is life?—a smoke, a vapour, 
 Swiftly mingled with the air. 
 
 What is life ?—a dying taper. 
 
 The spark that glows to disappear. 
 
 What is life ?—a flower that blows, 
 Nipp’d by the frost, and quickly dead, 
 
 What is life?—the full-blown rose, 
 That’s scorch’d at noon, and withered. 
 
 Such is life,—a breath, a span, 
 
 A moment, quickly gone from thee. 
 
 What is Death ? -Oh ! mortal man. 
 
 Thy entrance on eternity. 
 
 FEINTED AT THE CAXTON PRESS, BY HENRY FISHER. 
 
index 
 
 TO 
 
 THE EIGHTH VOLUME. 
 
 A. 
 
 Agriculture of the Israelites, Ap¬ 
 pendix to the, 312. 
 
 America,—Review of Dwight’s 
 Travels in New-England °and 
 New-York, 61; Review of 
 Faux s Memorable Days in, 
 ib.; American Literature and 
 Intelligence, 250. 
 
 Anecdote—Indian Wit and Gene- 
 rosity, 249. 
 
 Arabic—Review of an Easy Me- 
 thod of acquiring the Reading 
 of it with vowel points, by an 
 experienced Teacher, 126 
 
 B. 
 
 Barnett, Mr., shewn to have no 
 right to complain of the conduct 
 of Mr. Reed, in making him the 
 hero of “ No Fiction,” 231,5; 
 his gross misconduct subse¬ 
 quently to the publication of 
 that work, 232; Mr. Reed’s 
 kindness towards him on that 
 occasion, 235; nature of the 
 charges against him in “ No 
 Fiction,” 236. 
 
 Biblical Literature,—A Disserta¬ 
 tion on its importance. By 
 Charles Hodge, A.M. Teacher 
 of the Original Languages of 
 Scripture in the Theological 
 Seminary of the Presbyterian 
 Church, at Princeton, New- 
 Jersey, 176. 
 
 Borrentslein, M.—Review of his 
 New and Easy Method of ac¬ 
 quiring the Reading of Hebrew, 
 Syriac, and Arabic, with the 
 vowel points, 126. 
 
 Buckland, Alfred Cecil—Review 
 of his Letters on the importance, 
 duty, and advantages of Early 
 Rising, 209; his death, 210. 
 
 Bury, Miss Jane, Memoir of her 
 Life, 251; her childhood, ib.; 
 
 ber juvenile days, 252; her 
 conduct at school, 253; her con¬ 
 duct as an instructor, ib.; course 
 of reading, ib.; musical talents, 
 letters to her relatives, ib. 
 255; self-cultivation, 256; ex¬ 
 tracts from her journal, 257 8 
 9, 260, 1, 7, 8, 9, 270, 1, 6; re¬ 
 flections on her entering her 
 21st year, 260; comparison of 
 theatrical amusements, cards, 
 drawing, and music, 261 ; her 
 piety, 266, 8, 9, 270, 1, 2; her 
 attention to the Sabbath, 271; 
 diligence as a Sunday-school 
 teacher, 275; regard to the 
 scriptures, ib.; activity in sup¬ 
 port of religious institutions, 
 276; last illness, ib.; death, 
 279; observations suggested by 
 her character, ib. 
 
 C. 
 
 Calendar of the Jews, 312 
 Catalogue of the Works of the 
 Rev. Dr. Edward Williams, of 
 Rotherham, 59. 
 
 Characteristics in the Manner of 
 Kochefoucault’s Maxims—Re¬ 
 view of, 189; their vulgarity 
 189, 90; absurdity and paral 
 tlox, 190, 2, 3, 6; mischievous 
 tendency, 191, 3; immorality, 
 191; excessive generality, 191 
 3; lengthiness, 192; trifling and 
 inutility, 193; libellous cha¬ 
 racter of the female sex, 194* 
 impiety and anti-cliristian ten¬ 
 dency, 195; selection of their 
 best maxims, 196; their refuta¬ 
 tion of the selfish system of 
 Rochefoucault commended, 197- 
 their supposed author, ib. ’ ’ 
 
 Clarke, Dr. Adam,—The assertion 
 in his Commentary on the Bible, 
 that human reason can both 
 apprehend and comprehend the 
 
518 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 doctrines of revelation, contro- 
 verted 
 
 Coates, Rev. Mr., liis conduct as 
 Librarian of Dr. Williams’s 
 Library in Red Cross-street, 
 applauded, 148. 
 
 Collyer, Rev. Dr. William Bengo’, 
 History of Ethics, Lecture I. 4; 
 Lecture II. 433. 
 
 Conder, Josiah, his Star in the 
 East reviewed, 497 ; and highly 
 commended, ib., 498. 
 
 Cottonian Library ; its history, 49; 
 its present state, 54; catalogues 
 published of its contents, 55. 
 
 D. 
 
 Death of Mungo Park, a poem, 
 508. 
 
 Defamation; its Punishment 
 amongst the Jews, 173; the 
 ancient Egyptians, 174; Per¬ 
 sians, 175; Lydians, 176; by 
 the code of Menu, 281 ; by the 
 code of Gentoo laws, 287; 
 amongst the Chinese, 289. 
 
 Durant, William Friend, * On the 
 Standard of Taste,’ an Essay 
 intended to compete for a prize 
 given by the University of Glas¬ 
 gow, Part I. 131; Part II. 292; 
 Part III 403. 
 
 Dwight, Rev. Dr. Timothy —Re¬ 
 view of his Travels in New- 
 England and New-York, 61 ; 
 his complaints of the accounts 
 of America given by English 
 writers, 62; general description 
 of New r -England, 63; account 
 of the canker-w orm there, 65; 
 its quadrupeds,and their weight, 
 in comparison with those of 
 Europe, 66; its ornithology, 
 68; account of the rattlesnake, 
 69; insects of New-England, 70; 
 its climates and seasons, ib. ; 
 character of its inhabitants, 71; 
 his refutation of the attacks of 
 the Edinburgh Reviewers upon 
 American writers, 75; women of 
 New-England, 78; strict obser¬ 
 vance of the Sabbath there, 80 ; 
 difference between the Congre- 
 gationalists there and in Eng¬ 
 land, 81; constitution of Con¬ 
 necticut, 86; its criminal code, 
 
 88; legislation, 89; state of re¬ 
 ligion there, 93; account of 
 New haven, 94; singular mode 
 of settling a disputed title to 
 lands, 95; constilution of Mas¬ 
 sachusetts, 97; account — of 
 Boston, ib. ; of the regicides 
 W bailey and Goffe, 99; of a 
 supposed prevalency of witch¬ 
 craft at Danvers, 101 ; of a sin¬ 
 gular deluge from Saddle 
 Mountain, 102; constitution of 
 Maine, 103; ravages of grass¬ 
 hoppers at Bennington, Ver¬ 
 mont, 104; notice of Colonel 
 Ethen Allen, an American deis- 
 tieal writer, 105; legislature and 
 government of Vermont, ib. ; 
 constitution of New Hampshire, 
 106; cruel outrage of the In¬ 
 dians at Dover, 107; inns of 
 New-England, 108; Dartmouth 
 college, 109; roads of New 
 Hampshire, ib. ; destructive 
 fires in the woods, 110; consti¬ 
 tution of Rhode Island, and un¬ 
 favourable character of its in¬ 
 habitants, ib.; constitution and 
 legislation of New'-York, 112; 
 account of the Shakers, 116; 
 Long Island, 119: state prison 
 of New-York, 120; account of 
 the city of New-York and its 
 inhabitants, ib.; Colombia col¬ 
 lege, 123; towns of New-York, 
 ib.; goitres of the western 
 states, 123; general character 
 of the work, 124; its faults, ib. 
 125; Americanisms of its au¬ 
 thor, 125 ; his prejudices, 66, 9, 
 73, 6, 109; his candour, 90; 
 illiberality, 92, 103, 114. 
 
 E. 
 
 Early Rising—Review of Letters 
 on its importance, duty, and 
 advantage, 209; of a Tract, 
 recommending it, by Rev. Jacob 
 Snelgar, 218; benefit experi¬ 
 enced from these works by 
 the reviewer, 210, 11; good ef¬ 
 fects of the habit upon ner¬ 
 vous persons, 212; its im¬ 
 portance to parents and heads 
 of families, 213; urged upon 
 studious men, from the melan- 
 
INDEX. 
 
 519 
 
 choly effects of nocturnal stu¬ 
 dies, 214 ; from the example of 
 several celebrated scholars, 217; 
 examples of early rising record¬ 
 ed in the Scriptures, ib.; the 
 duty urged upon Christians, 
 218 ; mode of acquiring the ha¬ 
 bit, 219. 
 
 Essays—on the Results of Art, as 
 connected with the happiness 
 of the human race in general, 
 20 ; Museum Hours, No. 1.43; 
 ‘On the Standard of Taste,’ an 
 essay intended to compete for 
 a prize given by the University 
 of Glasgow, by the late William 
 Friend Durant, Part I. 131 ; 
 Part II. 292; Part III. 403; 
 on certain Regulations in Dr. 
 Williams’s Library, 148; Uui- 
 tarianism and Trinitarianism 
 compared in their tendency to 
 convert Turks, Pagans, Jews, 
 and Infidels, to Christianity, 
 134; Hone Juridicae, No. I. on 
 the Origin and Principles of the 
 Law of Libel, and the Punish- 
 meut of Defamation amongst the 
 Jews, Egyptians, ancient Per¬ 
 sians and Lydians, 167 ; No. II. 
 on the Punishment of Defama¬ 
 tion amongst the Hindoos and 
 Chinese, 281; a Dissertation on 
 the importance of Biblical Lite- I 
 rature, by Charles Hodge, A.M. 
 teacher of the Original Lan¬ 
 guages in the Theological Se¬ 
 minary of the Presbyterian 
 Church, at Princeton, New-Jer- 
 sey, 176; Calendar of the Jews, 
 an Appendix to an Essay on 
 the Agriculture of the Israelites, 
 312; Thoughts on the Slaying 
 of the Witnesses, 444. 
 
 Ethics—Lectures on their History, 
 by the Rev. William Bengo’ 
 Collyer, D.D. &c. &c. 4, 433. 
 
 F. 
 
 Faux, W.—Review of his Memo¬ 
 rable Day s in America, 61 ; his 
 account of a Sabbath at Boston, 
 98 ; his work commended, 126. 
 
 G. 
 
 Gaming—the mischievous Effects 
 of, a charge delivered to the 
 
 Grand Jury of the county of 
 Berks, in Pennsylvania, by the 
 Hon. Jacob Rush, 36. 
 
 H. 
 
 Hazlitt, \\ illiara, his character 
 and conduct as a writer, 198; 
 the characteristics in the man¬ 
 ner of Rochefoucault attributed 
 
 to him, ib. 
 
 Hebrew—Review of a New Me¬ 
 thod of acquiring the Reading 
 ot it with the vowel points, by 
 an experienced teacher, 126. 
 
 Henry, Matthew, at Hackney- 
 Review of, 471. 
 
 Hewlett, Esther, her ‘ William 
 Barlow,’ a tale, reviewed, 507; 
 commended, ib. 
 
 Hodge, Charles, Teacher of the 
 Original Languages of the Scrip¬ 
 ture in the Theological Semina¬ 
 ry of the Presby terian Church, 
 at Princeton, New-Jersey,—a 
 Dissertation on the importance 
 of Biblical Literature, 176. 
 
 Horae Juridicae, No. I.—on the 
 Origin and Principles of the 
 Law of Libel, and the Punish¬ 
 ment of Defamation amongst 
 the Jews, Egyptians, ancient 
 1 ersians, and Lydians, 167; 
 No. II. on the punishment of 
 Defamation amongst the Hin¬ 
 doos and Chinese, 281. 
 
 Huntley,Lydia,—The Susceptible 
 Mind, 130; Life, ib.; Gratitude, 
 lines written on planting slips 
 ol geranium and constancy over 
 the grave of a venerable friend 
 247. 
 
 I. 
 
 Jews, their Calendar, 312. 
 
 H Pastore Incantato, a drama, 
 Pompeii, and other Poems, by 
 a Student of the Temple, re¬ 
 viewed, 486; the author’s suc¬ 
 cessful study of the older poets 
 487, 8, 9, 491 ; the principal 
 poem commended as a beautiful 
 imitation of Milton’s Comus 
 487, 5, 493; its defects, 493; 
 the poem of Pompeii highly 
 praised, ib.; beautiful minor 
 pieces, 494,5 ; striking personi¬ 
 fication of death, 495 ; coininen- 
 
520 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 dation of tlie talents of the au¬ 
 thor, 498. 
 
 L. 
 
 Lectures on the History of Ethics, 
 by the Rev. William Bengo’ 
 Collyer, D.D.LLD.,4, 433. 
 
 Letters on the Importance, Duty, 
 and Advantages, of Early Ris¬ 
 ing, reviewed, 209; recom¬ 
 mended from the benefit ex¬ 
 perienced by the reviewer, 210, 
 219; the ill effects of lying in 
 bed, 211, 213; good effects of 
 early rising on nervous persons, 
 212; its importance to parents 
 and heads of families, 213 ; ill 
 effects of a contrary habit on 
 studious men, 214; examples of 
 early rising in great men, 216; 
 examples from Scripture, 217 ; 
 mode of attaining the habit, 
 219. 
 
 Libel,—on the Origin of Princi¬ 
 ples of the Law of, 167; de¬ 
 rivation of the word, 171. 
 
 M. 
 
 Matthew Henry at Hackney, to 
 which is added. Strictures on 
 the Unitarian Writings of the 
 Rev. Lant Carpenter, LLD. 
 reviewed,471; commended, ib.; 
 the insufficiency of reason in 
 matters of revelation, 472; dis¬ 
 tinction between human and 
 eternal reason, 473; Dr. Adam 
 Clarke’s notions upon the sub¬ 
 ject controverted, ib.; account 
 of the sermon supposed to be 
 delivered by Matthew Henry, 
 479; remarks in it on the Saxon 
 Voluspa,480; testimonies of the 
 Hebrew prophets in support of 
 the divinity of the Messiah, 
 482; critical examination of the 
 Unitarian Version of the New 
 Testament, 484; virulence of 
 the author of this tract cen¬ 
 sured, 484, 486. 
 
 Maugham, (Robert,) Review of 
 his Outlines of Character, 199, 
 his work highly approved, 
 199; specimens of his style, 
 200,207; his favourable opinion 
 of Phrenology, controverted, 
 201; his remarks on the de¬ 
 
 clension of eloquence at the 
 Bar, quoted with approbation, 
 207; his opinion on the book¬ 
 making character of the age, 
 supported, 208; correction of 
 his notions of the system of 
 reviewing, ib.; faults in his 
 style, ib. 
 
 Memoir of Sir Thomas Stamford 
 Raffles, 1 ; Miss Jane Bury, .of 
 Stockport, 251. 
 
 Modern Traveller, Review of the, 
 Parti.219; Parts III.—VI.503; 
 the work highlyconimended,219, 
 221, 2, 3,5, 503,4,6; account of 
 Jerusalem, 221 ; ofDjezzar Pa¬ 
 sha, 223; authorities consulted 
 on its account of Palestine, 225; 
 of Syria and Asia-Minor, 504; 
 references to its most interest¬ 
 ing parts, 504; the editor’s 
 judicious remarks on the pre¬ 
 sent state of Syria and Asia- 
 Minor, 50. 
 
 Museum Hours, No. I. 43; Read¬ 
 ing Rooms of the British Mu¬ 
 seum, ib.; their regulations, 
 44; attendants and students 
 there, 46; history of the Cot¬ 
 tonian library, 49; catalogues 
 published of this collection, 55. 
 N 
 
 New England, Review of the Rev. 
 Dr. Dwight’s Travels in, 63; 
 general description of its states, 
 ib.; character of its inhabitants, 
 71; of its first settlers, 72; its 
 women, 79; strict observance 
 of the Sabbath there, 80; its 
 civil and religious institutions, 
 81 ; inns and inn-keepers, 108. 
 
 New York,—Review of the Rev. 
 Dr. Dwight’s Travels there, 
 112; its constitution and legis¬ 
 lation, ib.; its liberal patronage 
 of learning, 115; its state pri¬ 
 son, 121; inns, 122; goitres of 
 its western states, 123. 
 
 P. 
 
 Park, Mungo, Poem on his Death, 
 508. 
 
 Phrenology, Objections to the 
 system, 202; its unwarranted 
 assumption that the organs of 
 intellect reside in the brain, 
 
INDEX. 
 
 521 
 
 ib.; fatal consequences of its 
 truth, 204; its illiberally, 205; 
 its barring the door to all change 
 of character, 206. 
 
 Poetry—Affliction, 128; Earthly 
 and Heavenly Hopes, 129; the 
 Advice of Nusliirewan to his 
 Son Hormuz, from the Persian 
 of Sadi, 180; the Susceptible 
 Mind, from “ Moral Pieces in 
 Prose and Verse, by Lydia 
 Huntley,” of Hartford, Connec¬ 
 ticut, ib.; Life, from the same, 
 ib.; Gratitude, lines written on 
 -planting slips of Geranium and 
 Constancy near the Grave of 
 a venerable Friend, from the 
 same, 24/; the Smile that we 
 love in our own dear Home, 
 245; Lines written in Wales, 
 246; the Death of Mungo Park 
 by J. H. Wiffen, Esq. 908; Can¬ 
 tilena, from the Spanish of Vil¬ 
 legas, by tbe same, 515 ; What 
 is Life? 516. 
 
 R. 
 
 Raffles, Sir Thomas Stamford, 
 Memoir of his Life, 1 ; his ap¬ 
 pointment to Prince of Wales’s 
 Island, ib.; to the Lieutenant 
 Governorship of Java, ib.; pub¬ 
 lication of his history of Java, 
 2; appointment to the Lieuten¬ 
 ant-Governorship of Bencoolen, 
 ib.; his administration at Su¬ 
 matra, 3. 
 
 Reed, Andrew—Review of his 
 Letter to the Editor of the 
 British Review, occasioned by 
 the notice of “ No Fiction,” and 
 “Martha,” in that work, 226; 
 his answer to the charge of 
 imposing upon the public as a 
 narrative founded on facts,acol- 
 lection of fictions, distortions, 
 and exaggerations, ib.; suffici¬ 
 ency of that refutation, 228; 
 his answer to the charge of in¬ 
 juring Mr. Barnett, the hero of 
 “ No Fiction,” ib.; inadequacj' 
 of his reply upon this head, 
 229; what he ought to have 
 done before he published the 
 book, 230; the injury inflicted 
 upon Mr. Barnett, shewn to 
 
 have been trifling, if any, 231 ; 
 subsequent misconduct of that 
 gentleman, 232; kindness of 
 Mr. Reed towards him after 
 the publication of ‘ No Fiction,” 
 232, 5; injury to the character 
 of Mr. Barnett by the publi¬ 
 cation of the work, with people 
 not religious, 236; the charge 
 of vanity in eulogizing himself 
 and family, not without foun¬ 
 dation, 238; quotation of his 
 masterly defence of fiction as a 
 mode of inculcating moral and 
 religious truth, ib. 
 
 Review of Dr. Dwight’s Travels 
 in New England, 61; Faux’s 
 Memorable Days in America, 
 ib.; a New Method of acquir¬ 
 ing the Reading of JUebrew 
 with vowel points, by an ex¬ 
 perienced Teacher, 126; an 
 Easy Method of acquiring the 
 Reading of Syriac with the 
 vowel points, by the same, ib.; 
 an Easy Method of acquiring 
 the Reading of Arabic with 
 the vowel points, by the same, 
 ib. ; Characteristics, in the 
 Manner of Rochefoucault, 189; 
 Outlines of Character, 199 1 
 Letters on the Importance, 
 Duty, and Advantages, of Early 
 Rising, 209; Early Rising re¬ 
 commended, a Tract, by the 
 Rev. Jacob Snelgar, 218; Mo¬ 
 dern Traveller.Part 1.219; Parts 
 III. to \ I. 503; a Letter to the 
 Editor of the British Review 
 by Andrew Reed, 226; an Au¬ 
 thentic Copy of the Minutes of 
 Evidence on the Trial of John 
 Smith, a Missionary, in Deme- 
 rara, 322; the Missionary So¬ 
 ciety’s Report of the Proceed¬ 
 ings against the late Rev. John 
 Smith, of Demerara, ib.; Jeru¬ 
 salem Delivered, translated 
 from the Italian of Tasso, by 
 J. H. Wiffen, 449; II Pastore 
 Incantato, a Drama, Pompeii, 
 and other Poems, by a Student 
 of the Temple, 486; the Star in 
 the East, with other Poems, by 
 Josiah Conder, 497; William 
 
522 
 
 . INDEX. 
 
 Barlow, a Tale, by Esther Hew¬ 
 lett, 507. 
 
 Roberts, Rev. John, Thoughts on 
 the Slaying of the Witnesses, 
 444. 
 
 Rochefoucault, Characteristics in 
 the Manner of, reviewed and se¬ 
 verely censured, 189; refuta¬ 
 tion of the leading principles 
 of his selfish system, 197. 
 
 Rush, Hon. Jacob; the Mis¬ 
 chievous Effects of Gaming; a 
 Charge delivered to the Grand 
 Jury of the County of Berks, in 
 the State of Pennsylvania, 36. 
 
 S. 
 
 Sadi—the advice of Nushirewan 
 to his son Hormuz, translated 
 from his Bostan, 130. 
 
 Smith, Jtev. John—Review of the 
 Minutes of Evidence on his 
 Trial, at Demerara, 322; the 
 charges preferred against him, 
 323; their uncertainty, 325; 
 constitution of the court by 
 which he was tried, ib.; its want 
 of jurisdiction, 327 ; selection 
 of his judges, 329 ; misconduct 
 of the j udge-advocate, 330, 397, 
 400; illegal evidence adduced 
 against the prisoner, 333, 342, 
 399; extracts from his journal, 
 proving his proper conduct, 
 337, 340, 341; the charge of 
 teaching insurrectionary doc¬ 
 trines in his sermons, examined 
 and disproved, 336, 362 ; gross 
 partiality of the court, 351,361; 
 refutation of the charge of pro¬ 
 moting discontent among the 
 slaves towards their masters, 
 managers, and overseers, 362, 
 370; his exciting, abetting, and 
 wilfully concealing the insur¬ 
 rection of the 18th of August 
 
 disproved, 370 ; the nature of 
 his interviews with Quamina 
 shewn, 388; evidence adduced 
 by the prosecutor, 395; gross 
 irregularity of the proceedings 
 of the court, 398. 
 
 Snelgar, Rev. Jacob,—Review of 
 his Early Rising recommended, 
 218; the work commended,218, 
 19. 
 
 Syriac—Review of an Easy Me¬ 
 thod of acquiring the Reading 
 of it with vowel points, by an 
 experienced Teacher, 126. 
 
 T. 
 
 Trinitarianism and Unitarianism 
 compared in their tendency to 
 convert Turks, Pagans, Jews, 
 and Infidels, to Christianity, 
 154. 
 
 U. 
 
 Unitarianism and Trinitarianism 
 compared in their tendency to 
 convert Turks, Pagans, Jews, 
 and Infidels, to Christianity, 
 154. 
 
 Villegas — Cantilena, translated 
 by J. H. Wifl'en, Esq. 515. 
 
 W. 
 
 Wifl'en, Jeremiah Holmes—Re¬ 
 view of his translation of Tas¬ 
 so’s Jerusalem Delivered, 449; 
 the work highly praised, 451; 
 the Death of Mungo Park, a 
 poem, 508; Cantilena, from the 
 Spanish of Villegas, 515. 
 
 Williams, Dr.—Remarks on cer¬ 
 tain Regulations in his Library 
 in Red Cross-street, 148; Rev. 
 Dr.Edward, (of Rotherham,) ac¬ 
 count of his death, 57; Cata¬ 
 logue of his works, 59. 
 
 Wray, Mr., his gross misconduct 
 on the trial of Mr. Smith, at 
 Demerara, 329, 335, 351. 
 

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