NORTH AMERICAN REYJEW. No. CLXII. JANUARY, 1854. ART. I. Hippolytus and his Age; or, The Doctrine and Practice of the Church of Rome under Gommodus and Alexander Severus; and Ancient and Modern Christianity and Divinity compared. By CHRISTIAN CHARLES JosIAs BUNSEN, D.C.L. London: Longmans. 1852. 4 vols. l2mo. WHY this work is in four volumes, or why not in forty, is a question the Solution of which rests solely with the author and his publishers. The Chevalier Bunsen merely tapped his mental reservoir at the point indicated by the first word of the title-page, and stopped the vent when he had filled the pre- arranged measure. Of book-making as an art, he has less than an intelligent childs conception. Of the contents and limita- tions of a subject, he takes no note whatever. The only law of association which seems to preside in the collection and cob location of materials is that of juxtaposition in time or space. Such a shapeless work, had it made its first appearance in his native language, would have been no rare phenomenon; for a German theologian or philologist not infrequently sends through the press a volume full of miscellaneous learning bound together by no discernible filament of rhetorical or logical unity. But in England and America, with less prod- igality of erudition, we expect of an author some reference vOL. LXXYIII. NO. 162. 1 2 BUNSENS IHPPOLYTUS AND HIS AGE. [Jan. to form and coherency, some manifest reasons why what is in his book should be there. This work betrays still other luculent tokens of its authors nationality. The Anglo-Saxon mind builds upon a broad basis of facts or phenomena successive series of generaliza- tions,~pyramid-wise, and culminating in some single law of matter or of mind. The German inverts the pyramid, rea- sons from premises intangibly minute to theories that span the universe. With him, a possible indication is often an unanswerable argument; and immense, top-heavy piles of ratiocination rest on a mere hairs breadth of assumed or half- proved fact. Bunsens reasoning is often of this class; and acquiescence in his conclusions not infrequently demands a voluntary ignoring of the lower strata of the lofty, yet com- pact fabric. It is this habit of the German mind, that fits it so eminently for the obscurer departments of literary and historical research. In the very nature of things, an isolated event must often leave only the slightest and most question- able tokens of its authenticity, or an unofficial document, only the faintest traces of its authorship and its purpose. A strong effort of the imagination is needed, at once to develop the capacities of the hypothesis thus feebly indicated, and to ex- clude the score of possible theories which might equally satis- fy all the conditions of the problem. But to the vision which can thus follow up in the dark the merest sand-tracks of prob- ability, a blaze of light is dazzling and bewildering; and as to truths and facts patent to all the rest of the world, Ger- man philosophy and theology are prone to grope in incurable blindness. But as to the salient doctrines, the canonical records, and the historical evidence of Christianity, Bunsen is free from the sceptical tendencies of his nation. He is a man of sin- cere faith and profound religious reverence. His subtlety is exercised, not in undermining the foundations, but in strengthening the buttresses, of evangelical truth. His in- tellectual instincts are all in the direction of Christian belief, and his earnestness in its behalf, in numerous instances, sup- plies the almost invisible thread of inference and hypothetical reasoning. With regard to the unessential details of the 1854.] BUNSENS IIIPPOTJYTUS AND HIS AGE. 3 primitive ages, his aim is to disinter whatever may confirm the verities devoutly cherished by his moral nature, and to elicit corroborative testimony from witnesses whom he calls forth from centuries of silence and oblivion. To an English or American reader, the results which he reaches may seem utterly inadequate to the labor expended upon them. We could admit the converse of all his conclusions, without the slightest disturbance to onr faith. But in quarters where the microscope seems to be the only instrument employed in the investigation of truth, we cannot overestimate the importance of its use in hands so wary and skilful as his. In 1842, among other similar treasures, was brought from Mount Athos and deposited in the National Library at Paris a Greek manuscript of the fourteenth century, inscribed On all Heresies. M. Emmanuel Miller first examined its con- tents, and procured its issue from the Oxford press, as a recov- ered work of Origen, the first book having been previously ex- tant, under the title of Philosophoumena, among the reputed writings of Origen. But no treatise on heresies is named or quoted by any ancient writer among the numerous works of that Father. Moreover, this first book contains certain statements of the author concerning himself which that Father could not have made. He speaks of himself as a bishop, which Origen was not. Subsequent portions of the work imply that it was written by a person who was at the time resident at or near Rome, and a prominent actor in the eccle- siastical affairs of the Roman Church. But Origen never lived at Rome, or made more than a brief visit to that me- tropolis. This negative argument is beyond dispute; and, in the name prefixed to the treatise, M. Miller is undoubt- edly chargeable with an oversight which does little credit to a learned editor. But there are numerous traces of a work of this character by Hippolytus, Bishop of Portus. Eusebius expressly enu~ merates such a work among his writings, as does St. Jerome also. Epiphanius cites him as among the principal writers against the Valentinian heresies, which occupy a prominent place in the treatise under discussion. But, what might seem decisive as to the question of authorship, Peter of Alexan 4 BUNSEN S HTPPOLYTTJS AND 111$ AGE. [Jan. dna not only mentions the work of Hippolytus by name, but quotes a passage from it; and that passage is not found in the manuscript edited by M. Miller. Yet Bunsen argues for the identity of that manuscript with the work of Hippolytus from the absence of the passage thus quoted. Its absence leaves a hiatus in an important train of argument, while the fact which it contains and its argumentative value are else- where alluded to in the treatise, and could not in this place have been omitted by the author. The presumption thei~efore is, that the transcriber, on whose labors the learned world is just entering, occasionally saved work for himself by abridg- ing his author. We cannot, with Bunsen, call this a curi- ous and striking proof of Hippolytuss authorship; but it is a rare and happy instance of success in evading what, to a less subtle mind, would seem an insuperable difficulty. Photius, Patriarch of Constantinople in the ninth century, presents a similar opportunity for parrying objections. He gives a long account of the work of Hippolytus; and while the account is in part applicable to the new-found manu- script, it presents at first sight points of apparent discrepancy. Photius calls the treatise of Hippolytus fltI3xt& ~ptov, a little book; while the Oxford edition, of seven and a half out of the ten books of which the recently discovered work consisted, makes about three hundred octavo pages. But the portion which actually relates to heresies occupies less than two hun- dred and fifty pages, and Photiuss language may be construed without violence to denote only that portion. This, however, might seem to exceed the possible scope of the learned patri- archs diminutive, were it not that he elsewhere uses the same term concerning a book, the contents of which, according to Bunsens over.generous estimate, would form a volume fully equal to this portion of the manuscript. Again, the treatise which Photius describes enumerates thirty-two heresies, be- ginning with the Dositheans, and going down to Noetus and the Noetians. M. Millers manuscript contains thirty-two heresies, and closes with the Noetians; but it begins with the Ophites, and makes no mention at all of the IDositheans. These last, however, were not a Christian sect, but a sect of mystic Samaritans; and Bunsen supposes that the term had 1854.] BUNSEN S HIPPOLYTUS AND HIS AGE. S come inaccurately into use, to designate collectively the sev- eral classes of Judaizing Christians which occupy the first place in the recently recovered work. This supposition re- ceives color from that name being thus employed by the author of the appendix to Tertullians book on heretics. Ac- cording to Photius, the treatise of Hippolytus was founded on the Lectures of frenai~us; and, though our manuscript con- tains much that is not to be found in the extant work of frena~us on Heresies, it coincides to a considerable ext& nt with that work. Photius also says that Hippolytus denied the Pauline origin of the Epistle to the Hebrews. But no mention of that Epistle occurs in the manuscript sub lite. Yet it is easy to maintain, and impossible to deny, that such men- tion may have been made in the lost introduction, or rather in that which seems to be wanting, or else in the undoubt- edly lost portion of the body of the work, namely, the second, the third, and part of the fourth book. Yet our author seems to forget that he has excluded all this lost matter from the treatise described by Photius, in order to legitimate the di- minutive employed in describing it. There yet remains the question, whether Hippolytus was indeed a Roman bishop; for if he were not, the whole argu- ment falls to the ground. He is repeatedly spoken of by ancient writers as Episcopus Portuensis, sometimes as bishop of the Portus Romanus or Portus urbis Romce. Now there were two places answering to this name. One was the new harbor of the Tiber, opposite to Ostia, formed by Trajan. The other was a place in Arabia, now called Aden. Eusebius enumerates, as the principal Christian authors of the begin- ning of the third century, Beryllus, bishop of Bostra in Arabia, Hippolytus, bishop of another church, and Cams, well known to have been a Roman presbyter. Jerome re- peats concerning Hippolytus the designation of Eusebius, and adds, The name of the town I could not learn. In a work ascribed to Gelasius (about 492), a passage from an undoubted work of Hippolytus is quoted as from a work Hippolyti episcopi et martyris Arabum metropolis. The genuineness of this inscription is doubted; but, if genuine, it may have resulted from a misunderstanding of the passage 1* 6 BUNSENS IJIPPOLYTUS AND 111$ AGE. [Jan. in Eusebius, whose words by no means imply that Hippoly- tus was an Arabian bishop. But Eusebius was very vague and inaccurate in his knowledge of Western geography and history, while thoroughly versed in the ecclesiastical affairs of the East; and it is not without probability argued, that his another church was more likely to have been in the West than in the East, while Jerome, in the catalogue cited, was manifestly quoting from Eusebius, and gave himself no trouble to identify the place which that historian had been unable to specify. Indeed, the hypothesis that Hippolytus was an Arabian bishop would hardly be worth a thought, had it not been maintained by men of so high authority as Le Moyne and Cave. The references to him as belonging to the diocese of Rome are too numerous for citation. Even his burial-place, as well as the mode of his martyrdom, was described by Prudentius about the year 400; and there exists now in the Vatican library a statue bearing his name, with a list of his writings, which was found in that very cemetery three centuries ago. But would Hippolytus have written in Greek under the very walls of Rome? We answer, that, even in Rome itself, the Latin very slowly came into currency for re- ligious uses; and had it been otherwise, the Bishop of Portus must have been constrained to use the Greek as his chief medium of oral, and thence most naturally of written, communication. The people of Rome were so little given to commerce and navigation, as to throw almost all the frade of Italy into foreign hands, so that Portus must have had a large majority of foreign population, to a con- siderable proportion of whom the Greek was their native tongue, while to the residue it had become familiar as the universal language of business and traffic. We by no means claim for these arguments the positive force which Bunsen is disposed to ascribe to them. They at most establish a rational probability, but not a certainty, that Hippolytus wrote the newly discovered treatise. This proba- bility is enhanced, however, when we can say of the author- ship of the treatise, Ilippolytus aut nullus. If he did not write it, there i~ no other extant name to which it can be as- 1854.] BUNSENS HIPPOLYTUS AND HIS AGE. 7 cribed. He might have written it; and we are unable to say who else could. Our convictions, so far as they go, are in accordance with Bunsens, but by no means so strong as his. Were any important issue dependent on the settlement of the question, we should deem the affirmative too feebly established to be the basis for argument. But fortunately, the worth of the treatise depends in no wise upon its authorship. We know not enough of Hippolytus to place any peculiar reliance on the accuracy of his information or the reliableness of his judgments The treatise itself shows the author to have been a man of extensive erudition, of orthodox Christian faith, and of upright purpose. It also defines its own date by numerous references to recent and contemporary personages and events, and its own locality by the frequent recognition of the eccle- siastical affairs of Rome as taking place with the authors privity or participation. We know that he was one of the suffragan bishops of the diocese of Rome, and that he was not one of the Roman pontiffs; for their names and the transac- tions of their several pontificates are introduced with any thing rather than approving comment. But, whoever was the author, the work is one of great im- portance. Its date cannot have been much subsequent to A. D. 222. If we except an extant Latin translation of a part of the much less comprehensive treatise of Ireneus on Heresies, it is the oldest authority in ecclesiastical history, next after the Acts of the Apostles. It gives the state of opinion early in the third century, as to a portion of the Christian canon, and as to many important items of Christian belief and duty. It presents a graphic picture of Church life in that primitive age. It throws important light on the ecclesiastical constitution of those days, on the incipient aggressions of the Bishop of Rome, and on the causes of the culminating ascendency of the Rom- ish see over the whole of Western Christendom. This work affords an indirect, yet by no means insignificant, testimony to the authenticity of the Gospel history. That Jesus Christ lived and died early in the first century of the era that bears his name, there is no room for doubt. But was he merely a shrewd and ambitious Jewish peasant? Did Christianity, as a system, have its birth in myths that gradually 8 BUNSEN S HIPPOLYTIJS AND HIS AGE. [Jan. obtained currency, after he had been long enough removed from the stage of action to become the subject of baseless ex- aggeration or unscrupulous falsehood? And did the Gospels gradually assume their form and attain their completeness in even pace with the growth of this mythical element? All this must needs have been the work of time; and the belief, constitution, and practice of the Church must have been for several generations in a fluent, unsettled condition, with no authoritative standard of appeal, with no distinctly recognized orthodoxy, with no dogmatic fixedness, with no line of demar- cation between the canonical and normal on the one hand, and the heretical and schismatic on the other. It is not too much to assert, that, at the close of the second century from Christs death, nothing with regard to his history, his religion, or its records would have assumed the aspect of unquestioned verity, still less, would present this aspect as already tradition- ary from still earlier generations. But this treatise constantly appeals to still earlier antiquity and to long established and consolidated belief and practice. It treats Christianity as, in its then existing form, two centuries old. It refers to the Chris- tian Scriptures as books of established and unquestioned au- thority. It presents a certain standard of orthodoxy as not a new creation, but as transmitted from the Fathers. It describes a wider range of dissentient belief than we were previously able to affirm of so early an age; it carries back for several generations many of these forms of dissent, and thus presup- poses a prior Christian antiquity of no inconsiderable duration, and of general features similar to that of the age of its author- ship. In fine, had not Christianity crystallized into a definite form and organization during, or immediately subsequent to, the lifetime of its Founder, it could not have been, during the first quarter of the second century, what it manifestly was when this book was written. But if Christianity as a dogmatic sys- tem and an organic life bore a date so early, its constituent elements were too old to have been mythical, but must have existed in the life and character, the teachings and works, of its alleged author. While this so-called work of Hippolytus bears ample testi- mony to the unbridled ambition and the encroaching policy of 1854.] BUNSENS IIIPPOLYTUS AND HIS AGE. 9 the Romish see, it puts the negative upon any transmitted aroma of Apostolic sanctity in the pretended successors of St. Peter. That episcopal chair had already attained the preimi- nence in corruption, which it has held through most of the ages of medkeval and modern history. This manuscript has brought to light from long oblivion the career of Callistus, whose pontificate closed with his life in 222. He was the slave of a good Christian named Carpophorus, who gave him the administration of a bank, in which the masters reputation induced many of the brethren, and not a few widows, to de- posit their money. But the slave proved faithless, converted the funds intrusted to him to his own use, and, when his fraud was detected, escaped to Portus, and took refuge on board a ship. Followed by his master, he threw himself into the sea, was fished up with difficulty, and consigned to the wholesome discipline of the pistrinum. Subsequently released, he raised a great riot in a Jewish synagogue, and, by sentence of the prefect of the city, was scourged, and transported to Sar- dinia. Some time afterward, he contrived to have his name inserted on a list of more genuinely Christian exiles, who were recalled to Rome through the intercession of the emper- ors mistress. But Victor, the worthy Bishop of Rome, would not tolerate his presence in the city, and he was sent to An- tium with a monthly allowance for his support. But Zephy- nuns, Victors successor, was weak, stupid, and ignorant; and Callistus succeeded in so ingratiating himself into his favor, as to become officially his coadjutor, and virtually his dictator. When Zephyrinus died, Callistus was chosen his successor. During his administration, the doctrine and practice of the Church assumed, in some regards, an entirely new aspect for the worse. The accession of a bishop of such antecedents proclaimed a general amnesty for the excommunicated. He assumed the prerogative of forgiving sin, under the form, in- deed, of absolution in Gods name and stead, but with the liberal license which has ever since been the habit of that Church. No doubt from the instinct of self-protection, he laid down the principle, If a bishop commits a sin, be it even a sin unto death, he must not be deposed. He seems to have been well versed in the Scriptures, and was fond of quoting 10 BUNSENS IIIPPOLYTUS AND HIS AGE. [Jan. such precedents as that of the unclean beasts in the ark, as justifying a large infusion of that same description of society in the Church. We take no pleasure in transferring a narrative like this to our pages; but there are existing tendencies of the religious world, to which this early record of pontifical baseness may administer wholesome rebuke. Occasional abuses of religious freedom, excesses of fanaticism and of rationalism, are, with many, the chief argument for the necessity of an authoritative Church and a priestly lineage. It is alleged that the fingers ends are a safer medium for the transmission of faith and piety, than mind, heart, or example can ever be. To be sure, it cannot be denied that there have been in the papal chair not a few defective specimens of religious wisdom and excel- lence. But semi-Romish Protestants contend that the central fountain of spiritual gifts and graces, when at the lowest, was still above the level of the streams which it fed, until, at the Reformation, the sanctifying virtue was transferred through canonical sluices from the ancient source to what had pre- viously been its dependent reservoirs. Thus must it needs have been, if there be an essential connection between the outward form and the spiritual endowment. But whatever chain may have connected the earlier Bishops of Rome with the Apostolic college, it was broken short off on the accession of Callistus, if not before. He certainly received no spiritual gift, and can have transmitted no more than he received. He belonged to the lineage of Balaam and Simon Magus, and is of himself sufficient to deprive the alleged Petrine descent of the prestige of peculiar sanctity, purity, and efficacy. We would contend against no theory which insists on the fitness of separate orders of the Christian priesthood, and of episcopal ordination. We revere order in the Church; and regard with profound respect the order which has the strongest hold on ecclesiastical antiquity. But if the exclusive possession of priestly prerogatives be claimed for that order, it is the privi- lege of those who stand without its pale to rebut the assump- tion, by showing the instances in which the succession has been notoriously interrupted or suspended. The recovered work under discussion is of great worth in 18~54.] BUNSENS ILIPPOLYTUS AND illS AGE. 11 putting a negative on the late and non-Apostolic origin of the Gospel of John, as maintained by the writers of the Tubingen school. The proem of that Gospel is supposed by all sound expositors to owe its shape to heresies, which had become rife before it was written; and the denial of its genuineness de- pends in great part on the assumption of a comparatively late period for the origin of those heresies. This treatise carries back their birth-time to the Apostolic age, and demonstrates that the Ophites, and other sects of Gnostics, existed and had attained formidable strength and influence within the reputed lifetime of St. John. Therefore it was competent for him to assume a polemic attitude, and to clothe his simple conception of the Saviours personality in such a form, as should present its several points of antagonism to the errors which he would refute and suppress. Moreover, the authors doctrine of the Logos is founded on St. Johns Gospel, and implies its general reception, admitted apostolicity, and established authority among orthodox Christians of that age, when, according tothe Tubingen critics, it could not have assumed its unchallenged place in the canon with the other three Gospels. Together with this essential testimony, so seasonable as regards the last. master-stroke of neological audacity, our treatise affords abun- dant confirmation of the canon of the New Testament in general, as we now have it, and the recognition in detail of almost all the writings that compose it. These books were regarded by our author as not only genuine, but as distin- guished from the acknowledged works of other Christians by the element of divine inspiration, in such degree and manner as to attach to them a plenary authority in all matters of faith and practice. As regards church government, we cannot regard this trea- tise as decisive on the points at issue between Episcopacy and Presbyterianism. The advocates of the latter contend and admit, that the distinction of orders in the clergy grew from the exigencies of bodies of believers too large to be cared for by a single pastor. According to their view, when a congre- gation became too numerous for the charge of one man, instead of dividing and colonizing in the modern fashion, it multiplied its ecclesiastical functionaries, he who had held the place alone 12 BUNSENS HIPPOLYTUS AND HIS AGE. [Jan. retaining his supremacy, and his associates falling into natural subordination to him as their official head. Thus the titles of Episcopos and Presbuteros, which it is alleged were originally synonymous and interchangeable, gradually became distinct and descriptive, the former of the presiding minister, the latter of the clergy under his direction. This is our own belief; but it is neither confirmed nor shaken by Bunsens citations in the work before us. The offices were distinct in the age of Hip- polytus. The diocese of Rome, however, had a somewhat complex organization. Portus and the suburban towns had their own bishops, who at the same time were members of the Roman presbytery, and held, as such, no higher rank than those who bore the simple title of presbyter. We see no proof that the deacons had, in that age, become in any proper sense members of the clerical body. They, and corresponding offi- cials of the female sex, took charge of the sick and poor, and received and dispensed the alms of the congregation. The celibacy of the clergy had not become the established doctrine of the Church; but we discern manifest tendencies towards that notion, and very strong leanings of our authors own mind in that direction. He regarded the second marriages of pres- byters as uncanonical, and deemed it unbecoming that a first marriage should be contracted after ordination. But Callistus took the opposite ground, and admitted to orders persons who had been several times married. The clerical character was not deemed indelible; but one who grew weary of his profes- sion, or was unwilling to remain subject to its discipline and its liabilities, was free to fall back into the ranks of the laity. Into the dogmatic notions involved in this treatise, we can- not pursue the inquiries which we should be glad to institute, without forsaking that common Christian ground which alone is open to us. We doubt whether, were the author to reap- pear, he would be regarded as in doctrinal sympathy with any one of the existing sects of the Christian fold. The reason for this is obvious. Dogmas are shaped by attrition, moulded by opposing or limiting dogmas. Their logical statement is framed, not so much with the view of including their own contents, as of excluding the contents of antagonistic state- ments. A doctrine never receives a technical and sharply 1854.] BUNSEN S TUPPOLYTUS AND HIS AGE. 13 drawn definition, till it has been called in question, and every successive assault leads to new complexity and subtlety in its outline. The questions discussed during the first two or three - centuries were chiefly those brought into the Church from Ju- daism and the Pagan philosophers. Multitudes of Christian believers retained enough of their former faith essentially to modify the truths derived from the new religion; and each disputant contended against all extraneous elements except those which had attached themselves to his own creed. Dur- ing that period, the science of Scriptural criticism had not developed itself; but looseness of construction, allegorical ex- position, and mystical interpretation, according as the genius or the ignorance of each might dictate, were freely tolerated. But in process of time, the active conflict with other systems of belief was lulled, Christian orthodoxy was established, nom- inally on a Scriptural basis, yet as we think with large accre- tions from extraneous sources. Then first arose questions of exegesis, and attempts to circumscribe, analyze, and harden in dogmatic moulds, truths that had been received into the hearP consciousness of the primitive age, without being subjected to logical scrutiny or polemic discussion. Thus the Gnostic and the Manichean controversy grew obsolete, as first the Arian, and then the Pelagian, heresy shook the Church to its centre, and arrayed all its forces in almost internecine hostility. The age ~f Hippolytus was anterior to disputes of this class. The heresies enumerated by our author are, with hardly an excep- tion, not such as could have been born in the Church, but the hybrid offspring of Judaism or Paganism and Christianity. He indicates no dissent or wide scope of speculation on the subjects that now divide the Christian world. It would be impossible to extract from his treatise a positive and self-lim- iting theory of the Trinity, the Atonement, or the hereditary liabilities of man. The two poles of his theology seem to have been many s helplessness without Christ, and Gods mercy through Christ; and to be inspired by the contemplation of the eternal love of God, and the divine beauty of his holiness, to lead a godlike, holy life, in perpetual thankfulness, and per- fect humility, is the substance of his closing exhortation, and might fairly be assumed as an epitome of what he deemed voL. Lxxviii. NO. 162. 2 [Jan. 14 BUNSENS HIPPOLYTUS AND IllS AGE. true religion to be. His words concerning Christ and the Logos, while they would not identify him with the Nicene Fathers, still less with the Athanasian party, might be claimed in behalf of a modification of the Trinity like that promulgated by Dr. Bushnell, and yet might easily be regarded as conso- nant with the opinions of a large class of avowed anti- Trim- tarians. The modus operandi of the death of Christ seems hardly to have occupied his mind, while the sacrifice on Cal- vary is treated mainly as a motive and example for the living sacrifice to be offered by every individual believer. He lays intense stress on human free agency; but seems to have been little disturbed by the seemingly conflicting fact of the Divine prescience, or by any normal dogma with regard to predesti- nation. As to the Christian ordinances, this book (i. e. the so-called book of Hippolytus) adds almost nothing to our knowledge of the belief and practice of antiquity. But Bunsen, in his odd way of blending things new and old, has mixed up his own opinions as to the ritual of the Church with his analysis of Hippolytus. Bunsen is strongly opposed to infant baptism, and, referring to other extant works of Hippolytus, says, He scarcely knew pedobaptism at all. In another connection, he affirms that it had then only begun to be practised in some regions. Now the argument from the general silence of early Christian writers with reference to infant baptism, the impossibility of tracing it back to its beginning, and of point- ing out the steps by which it came gradually into use, carries with it, in our view, the force of historical demonstration. So great an innovation must have left some traces of itself in his- tory. And especially, if HippQlytus (or the author of the book imputed to him, who, if not Hippolytus, was his coeval) scarcely knew, yet did know, of this perversion of the Chris- tian rite as having begun to be practised in some regions,~~ it is impossible that it should not have made a figure in the work on heresies. It was one of the kind of heresies which would in that age have excited the liveliest interest and the most vehement opposition. It was, at least, of as grave im- portance as the dogma of the Qjuartodecimani, whose alleged error consisted in maintaining, that, because Christ suffered 1854.] BUNSENS IHPPOLYTUS AND IllS AGE. 15 at the full moon, therefore Easter should always be celebrated on the fourteenth day of the lunar month, whatever might be the day of the week. Now this heresy is refuted with sedu- bus care and with signal ingenuity by our author. Is it con~ ceivable that no notice should have been taken of an innova- tion affecting the very initiatory rite on which the greatest stress was laid by every writer of the primitive ages? We have, says Bunsen, no treatise of Hippolytus about the Eucharist, but only a single passage alluding to it; and this he omits to quote. But he avails himself of the oppor- tunity to give his own peculiar and partial view of the intent, or rather the signification, of that ordinance. It is comprised in those expressive words of the communion service in the Book of Common Prayer: And here we offer and present unto thee, 0 Lord, ourselves, our souls, and bodies, to be a reasonable, holy, and living sacrifice unto thee. He regards the communion service as primarily and chiefly an act of self- consecration by each participant, in grateful recognition and imitation of the sacrifice of Christ upon the cross. We of course admit that this sentiment is inseparable from a devout participation in the emblematic festival. But, with the nar- rative of its institution before us, we cannot receive this as its central idea. Self-consecration is the sum and substance of Christian consciousness, the consummation of the work of Christ upon the human heart, the end, with reference to which precept, doctrine, and ritual are but means, motives, and aids. But commemoration is evidently the primal and char- acteristic idea of the Eucharist. It represents, not the intro- spective or prospective phasis of the religious life, but that which is turned backward historically to the Saviours cruci- fixion, and thence heavenward to the redeeming mercy, of which that transaction was the medium, the token, and the pledge. But if the cross be devoutly commemorated, it can- not but renew in the communicant the purpose to be himself a cross-bearer, and thus to offer the living sacrifice, the lan- guage of which has its most appropriate utterance in the lit- urgy from which we have quoted, and can hardly fail to find utterance in the more flexible forms of non-liturgical wor- shippers. 16 BUNSENS HIPPOLYTUS AND IllS AGE. [Jan. As regards the mooted question of the antiquity of set forms of worship, Bunsen maintains that liturgical and extempora- neous services were united in the age of Hippolytus. The Lords prayer, with the ancient doxology appended to it in our common version, but universally recognized as an interpo- lation in Matthews Gospel, was uniformly the first act of worship. This was followed by an antiphonic hymn founded upon the song of the herald angels. Then came the exhorta- tion, Sursum corda, Lift up your hearts, with its appro- priate response from the congregation. The remaining servi- ces of prayer and praise were left to the officiating presbyter or bishop. We apprehend that this statement accords with the statements and implications of the early Fathers. It by no means settles the question between the advocates and oppo- nents of liturgical services. The former cannot, of course, plead the earliest antiquity; for the Apostles and their immediate successors cannot have had a service-book, and, from their very nature, entire liturgies could not have come into common use prior to the consolidation of individual churches into provin- cial or national hierarchies. The question is therefore one of expediency and edification, and must be decided by the tastes, needs, and educational habits of each congregation or each individual worshipper. The considerations in behalf of a lit- urgy are too weighty to be reasoned down, and can be suc- cessfully impugned only by the growth of a loftier, richer, and more fervent devotional spirit among those who trust for the language of worship to the inspiration of the hour. But it is time that we gave a specific account of the con- tents of the work under review. The first volume consists chiefly of five letters to Archdeacon Hare, on the genuineness of the recently published manuscript as a work of Hippolytus, and its bearing on various theological and ecclesiastical ques- tions of interest at the present day. We have expressed our assent to the probability of Bunsens conclusions; but we cannot regard the authorship of the treatise as established be- yond a reasonable doubt. Yet, independently of the subject- matter or the importance of the discussion, this volume de- serves to be studied as a masterpiece of critical and historical reasoning. It is so thorough, that a successor on the same 1854.1 BUNSENS flIPPOT1YTUS AND HIS AGE. 17 side could find no kernel of evidence to reward his gleaning. It is candid in its treatment of conflicting theories, and man- fully defends, instead of concealing, the weak points of its own. It presents an unsurpassed skill in the discovery and colloca- tion of arguments individually worthless, but in their com- bined force imposing and effective. It indicates in the author that keen, critical intuition of which the Germans make their boast; but he does not expect to impart its perceptions to other minds except through a logical medium. About half of the second volume is taken up with Apho- risms on the Philosophy of the History of Mankind, and in particular on the history of Religion. These treat of the gravest subjects too briefly and elliptically to content any except adepts in the science of human nature. They are not even ostensibly founded on antiquity, but are to be taken as a synopsis of the authors opinions. From them we infer that Bunsen, like ffippolytus, can be identified with no existing creed. His form of the Trinitarian dogma is worth referring to as a philosophical curiosity, and as a specimen of the mode in which not a few theologians of the present day claim an unimpeached reputation for orthodoxy by retaining the sym- bolical language of that dogma, while they reject all that fairly distinguishes its advocates from its opponents. The following may serve as a succinct statement of the doctrine. By the name of the FATHER 15 implied the one self-existent and infi- nite God. The SON is a manifestation of that God in a hu- man form, differing not in kind, but in degree, from that made in every good man, yet so differing in degree that Jesus mani- fests the entire range and sum of the Divine perfections, and therefore may fittingly bear such titles as the Emmanuel, the Only-begotten, the incarnate Logos, and the like. The SPIRIT is not a personal existence, has no individual embodiment, and is represented by the totality of Divine influence in the Church Universal, that is, in believing and devout men under every dispensation and in every age. God, man, humanity, is therefore the formula which represents the earthly manifesta- tion of the Father, Son, and Spirit. We cannot ascertain that our authors Trinity implies more than this, and it seems to us but a form of word-jugglery, by which he, and not a few 2* 18 BUNSENS IIIPPOLYTUS AND HIS AGE. [Jan. who sympathize with him, keep their nominal hold on national or time-honored churches, while their true place is with the smaller and more recent bodies of anti-Trinitarian dissenters. The residue of this volume consists of Historical Fragments on the ancient Church, and especially on the age of Hippoly.. tus, fragments which contain a great deal of valuable historical matter, but still more of the authors own specula- tions as to what must have been on a priori grounds. The third volume is a compilation of vast and laborious research, and is designed to present at once a picture of the ante- Nicene Church, and the points of contrast brought to light by comparing it with the post-Nicene Catholic Church and with the various dissenting religious bodies of later times. The au- thor has compiled from different authentic sources all that can be gathered concerning the admission and instruction of cate- chumens, the order and forms of worship, the celebration of the Eucharist, the rights and liabilities of office-bearers and of the laity, and the canons of moral conduct and of ecclesiastical discipline. These elements are put into a systematic form, yet with reference to the source whence every separate portion is derived. The Church and House-Book of the Ancient Christians is precisely such a book as might have been made in the primitive age, had not tradition and established custom been relied upon as superseding the necessity of complete formularies of worship and discipline. Under the title of Law- Book of the Ante-Nicene Church, Bunsen has made a com- pilation from the Apostolic Constitutions, a work, as we had supposed, confessedly spurious and of undoubtedly post.. Nicene origin. It is ostensibly quoted by no writer earlier than the middle of the fourth century, and there is ample rea- son for maintaining that the work then quoted under that name differed essentially from that which has survived to the present time. Apart from the lack of external evidence, the book contains many anachronisms, and enjoins not a few things which imply a more corrupt state of morals than could have existed before Christianity became the state religion. The credulous Whiston is the only modern writer of note who maintains the genuineness of these Constitutions. Bunsen enters into no argument for their authority, and leaves us in 1854.] BUNSENS HIPPOLYTUS AND 1115 AGE. 19 doubt whether he regards them as contemporary or tradition- al evidence as to the ante-Nicene period. If the latter, they ought not to be relied upon, and we apprehend that they have led him, in one or two instances in the previous volumes, to antedate alleged facts. The fourth volume commences with The Apology of Hippolytus to the People of England, or an imagined speech of the ancient bishop, vindicating his rightful title as a sub- urban bishop on the Tiber, claiming the authorship of the book issued from the Oxford press as Origens, impugning high-church notions about the sacraments, defending his own orthodoxy, and retorting the charge of heterodoxy upon the English Church. All this is simply ridiculous. The old martyr is made to mix up in admirable confusion paltry gossip, second-hand comments on the present state of things in England, and discussions of theological subtleties in the style of a pupil of Kant. To do this work well required a vivid and creative imagination; and of this the very rudi- ments are wanting in Bunsens mental constitution, as they are so prone to be among the profoundest German scholars. It is with him, and many of his fellow-countrymen, as if they had so loaded down the wings of youthful fancy with heavy folios, as to break and cripple them for ever. This Apology is followed by a collection of the liturgies of the various ancient churches, comprising a history of liturgies welluigh perfect down to the Council of Trent. No part of the entire work seems to us fraught with deeper interest than this. It presents the origin and proves the universality of many of those forms of worship, which are true to the Christian con- sciousness of every age, which are the noblest products of the action of the Divine spirit on the minds of holy men of old, and in employing which modern churches are prolonging strains of adoration, which, iii cathedral and cloister, by the Nile, the Tiber, and the Thames, in polished and in barbarous dialects, have never ceased to echo from human lips or died upon the ear of Heaven for uncounted centuries. Such a collection might well awaken in the heart of the most stub- born separatist a yearning for reunion with the earlier Church through these age-hallowed forms. In their use we seem to 20 BUNSENS IIIPPOLYTUS AND IllS AGE. [Jan. see the torch of devotion passed from hand to hand, trans- miffed from generation to generation, glowing at every stage with new fervor, and beaming with accumulated radiance and warmth on the individual heart. But, in whatever form we worship, are we not prone to lose sight of these same hallowed associations as attached with a profounder sacred- ness, and through a more venerable antiquity, to the express words of Scripture, to the prayers consecrated by our Lords own lips on the Mount of the Beatitudes and in the Garden of his agony, to the Psalms of the minstrel-monarch, to the glorious anthems of Deborah and Miriam? For ourselves, we prefer the freedom to pour forth in public praise and prayer the burning thoughts of the passing hour, and cannot but claim the promise, that, if there be the spirit of sincere devo- tion, it shall be given us what we shall speak. But we have no sympathy with the trust and love that cannot find for itself an apt and adequate vehicle in words that fell from the lips of holier men than the world is now accustomed to see, from those whose lyres were attuned by the miraculous outpouring of the Divine spirit, and especially from him in whom the immanent God so dwelt and wrought and spoke, that he who had seen him had seen the Father. In Bunsens various prefaces, and in his correspondence with Dr. Arnold, we have been enabled to trace in his character as a Christian man much that commands our profound ad- miration and sympathy. He is a firm believer in inspiration and in canonical Scripture. He seems penetrated with the spirit of earnest, confiding, and catholic piety. He is inde- pendent of the trammels of church, creed, and party, a mem- ber of the Church Universal, in fellowship with all who have faith in Christ and hope for man. He deeply feels and la- ments the prevalence of scepticism, the secularizing tendencies of this age of material progress, the overmastering power of commercial and political interests. He regards the existing ecclesiastical organizations of Christendom as doomed, and the external fortunes of the Church as in a transition state. Old forms and hierarchies have been outgrown, and their elasticity has been stretched till it can no longer adapt itself to the freer and more vigorous religious life, which is every- 1854.] WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. 21 where bursting, or soon to break forth, from beneath the ribs of spiritual death. Yet it is no work of repudiation or de- struction, that is to prepare the advent of the Church of the Future. But he would have every Christian organiza- tion restore within its limits all the freedom that is consistent with Christian integrity, and then reach forth to sister organ- izations the hand of cordial fellowship and untrammelled co5peration. Thus the way will be gradually opened for more comprehensive external institutions. Partition-walls will crumble under the tread of those who perpetually pass and repass them. Union in spirit will globe itself into visible and formal union; and, as the Temple of old rose without sound of axe or hammer, so may the spiritual temple of unanimous Christian faith and love assume its world-wide proportions and lift its battlements to the sky without strife, or tumult, or noisy hand-work. We rejoice that our author has, in these views, the entire sympathy of such men as Hare and Maurice, and many of the most vigorous minds and most fervent hearts of the English Church. Christianity cannot die; for it is omnipotence incarnate. Forms are its time-vesture; and, cling to them as we may, they are obso- lescent, and must, again and again, be renovated as humanity approaches the divine ideal. So long as the inspired foun- tain of truth flows ever fresh and pure, the spirit of Christian- ity will clothe itself in such outward garb as may best suit and speed its divine mission for the regeneration of a fallen world. ART. II. A Memoir of the Lffe and Labors of the REV. ADONIRAM JUD5ON, ID.ID. By FRANCIS WAYLAND, Presi- dent of Brown University. Boston: Phillips, Sampson, and Company. 1853. 2 vols. l2mo. AMONG the most extraordinary movements of the present century is that having for its object the conversion of the whole heathen world to Christianity. In this country, it be- gan, about forty years ago, with a few individuals, and,

1854.] WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. 21 where bursting, or soon to break forth, from beneath the ribs of spiritual death. Yet it is no work of repudiation or de- struction, that is to prepare the advent of the Church of the Future. But he would have every Christian organiza- tion restore within its limits all the freedom that is consistent with Christian integrity, and then reach forth to sister organ- izations the hand of cordial fellowship and untrammelled co5peration. Thus the way will be gradually opened for more comprehensive external institutions. Partition-walls will crumble under the tread of those who perpetually pass and repass them. Union in spirit will globe itself into visible and formal union; and, as the Temple of old rose without sound of axe or hammer, so may the spiritual temple of unanimous Christian faith and love assume its world-wide proportions and lift its battlements to the sky without strife, or tumult, or noisy hand-work. We rejoice that our author has, in these views, the entire sympathy of such men as Hare and Maurice, and many of the most vigorous minds and most fervent hearts of the English Church. Christianity cannot die; for it is omnipotence incarnate. Forms are its time-vesture; and, cling to them as we may, they are obso- lescent, and must, again and again, be renovated as humanity approaches the divine ideal. So long as the inspired foun- tain of truth flows ever fresh and pure, the spirit of Christian- ity will clothe itself in such outward garb as may best suit and speed its divine mission for the regeneration of a fallen world. ART. II. A Memoir of the Lffe and Labors of the REV. ADONIRAM JUD5ON, ID.ID. By FRANCIS WAYLAND, Presi- dent of Brown University. Boston: Phillips, Sampson, and Company. 1853. 2 vols. l2mo. AMONG the most extraordinary movements of the present century is that having for its object the conversion of the whole heathen world to Christianity. In this country, it be- gan, about forty years ago, with a few individuals, and, 22 WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. [Jan. through the impulse then given, powerful associations have been formed, reaching through the leading religious denom- inations, depending on private charity for support, raising immense sums of money, and carrying on their work with a zeal, wisdom, energy, and success almost unparalleled since the early triumphs of our religion. At first, the movement was looked upon with incredulity or contempt. The labors of the missionaries were held up to ridicule or scorn by the most influential public journals of England. We well remember how the Edinburgh Review made itself and its readers merry by its caricature exhibitions of Dr. Judson, in his zayat by the way-side, calling to the passers-by, Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters. And the two or three stray lambs that he had picked up in that wilderness of heathen- dom were made to administer largely to the diversion of those who would judge of the ultimate success of such an enterprise by the smallness of its beginnings, and the human instruments by which it would accomplish its ends. What was regarded as the enlightened public sentiment both of this country and of England was inclined to ridicule the under- taking. The English government threw obstacles in its way, and persecuted its agents. Christian prelates frowned upon it, and sincere ministers of the Gospel regarded it with aver- sion or distrust. But the faithful men with whom the movement began were not to be turned from their purpose. They believed that the fulness of time had come, and that they found in the Scriptures, not only a warrant, but a command, to go forth and preach the Gospel to every creature. Their appeals in behalf of the heathen were not without effect; and indeed, in the whole compass of sacred eloquence, it would not be easy to find a more powerful address to the reason, the con- science, and the faith of a Christian community, than Dr. Waylands remarkable Discourse on the Moral Dignity of the Missionary Enterprise. Rich men gave from their abundance; children laid by some portion of their small earnings; and widows consoled their indigence and loneliness by the thought of contributing something from their penury for the salvation of those who were sitting in the region and shadow of death. 1854.] WAYLAND $ LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. 23 Different denominations were drawn into a noble emula- tion, and vied with one another in the great work. The premature death of some of the first missionaries, and the extraordinary persecutions and sufferings of others, gave a new sacredness to the cause, and added to the zeal which had been already kindled. The Memoirs of Harriet Newell and Samuel J. Mills, the account of the cruel imprisonment and sufferings of Judson, the Memoirs of his heroic wife, worthy to be a companion in the martyrdom of him whose face was as it had been the face of an angel, the untiring perseverance with which the survivors labored on in spite of every discouragement, quickened here the enthusiasm of de- vout hearts, and created an active interest where before there had been only coldness and indifference. Dr. Wayland, in his Memoir of Dr. Judson lately issued from the press, gives, with a simplicity and distinctness worthy of all commendation, an account of what has been done in this work by that which, with a single exception, is the most numerous religious denomination in this counfry. His information is not got up for the occasion, but meets us everywhere, as the light thrown over a subject by a mind thoroughly conversant with all its principles and details. Dr. Judson, the earliest Baptist missionary, was to such an ex- tent the author and leading spirit in all this enterprise, his life reached through so long a period, and his labors and counsels were so identified with its measures, that hardly a departure from the strict purposes of biography is required, to comprise within the Memoir a complete history of all that has been done in the East by the Baptists of this country. Nor does the biography thus lose any thing of its personal interest. Dr. Judson was so individual in his character, his mi~sionary life, particularly during the first thirteen or fourteen years of his residence in Burmah, was so deeply tinged with the spirit of religious adventure and romance, his private experience was marked by so many sorrows, and his fortunes were con- nected with women so gifted and so lovely, that no one of the materials essential to an interesting memoir is wanting. But our readers must remember, that it is the Memoir of a man whose life was devoted to a single cause, and that one 24 WAYLAND $ LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. [Jan. of the most solemn and momentous that can engage a human being. They must not, therefore, look for the light and grace- fill qualities which give a charm to memoirs of a different class. The full-sized portrait which Dr. Wayland has drawn, as well as the miniature copy which we have taken from it, is of a man intensely serious, and living in the midst of the most laborious and solemn duties. Adoniram Judson, Jr., the son of a Congregational minister, was born at Malden, August 9, 1788, and was graduated as the first scholar in his class, at Providence College, now Brown University, in September, 1807. He was a youth of great intellectual activity and of a boundless ambition, which had been stimulated by the injudicious encouragement of his father. When he left college, deeply infected with the in- fidel notioiis which were so prevalent at that period, he kept school a year in Plymouth, where his father then resided.. He made known his doubts to his father, who, unable to com- prehend or sympathize with such a state of mind, treated him with great harshness. His fathers dogmatism and arguments he could refute, but he could never shake off the impression made upon him by the affecting persuasions, remonstrances, and prayers of his mother. At the close of his school, in August, 1808, he made a journey through the Northern States, staid a short time in New York, where he was connected in some way with a theatrical company, and visited Sheffield in Massachusetts. There he was much affected by the gentle and solemn earnestness of a young minister with whom he conversed on religious subjects. The next night he stopped at a country inn. The landlord men- tioned, as he lighted him to his room, that he had been obliged to place him next door to a young man who was exceedingly ill, probably in a dying state; but he hoped that it would occasion him no uneasiness. Judson assured him that, beyond pity for the poor sick man, he should liave no feeling whatever, and that now, having heard of the circum- stance, his pity would not of course be increased by the nearness of the object. But it was, nevertheless, a very restless night. Sounds came from the sick chamber, sometimes the movements of the watchers, sometimes the groans of the sufferer; but it was not these which dis- turbed him. He thought of what the landlord had said, the stran 1854.J WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. 26 ger was probably in a dying state; and was he prepared? Alone, and in the dead of night, he felt a blush of shame steal over him at the question, for it proved the shallowness of his philosophy. What would his late companions say to his weakness? The clear-minded, intel- lectual, witty E , what would he say to such consummate boyish- ness? But still his thoughts would revert to the sick man As soon as he had risen, he went in search of the landlord, and inquired for his fellow-lodger. He is dead, was the reply. Dead! Yes, he is gone, poor fellow! The doctor said he would probably not survive the night. Do you know who he was? 0, yes; it was a young man from Providence College, a very fine fellow; his name was E. Judson was completely stunned. After hours had passed, he knew not how, he attempted to pursue his journey. But one single thought occu- pied his mind, and the words, Dead! lost! lost! were continually ring- ing in his ears. He knew the religion of the Bible to be true; he felt its truth; and he was in despair. In this state of mind, he resolved to aban4on his scheme of travelling, and at once turned his horses head towards Plymouth.Yol. I. pp. 24, 25. While he continued in this state of mind, the Rev. Dr. Griffin and Rev. Moses Stuart, both at that time Professors in the Theological Seminary at Andover, visited his father, and by their advice he connected himself with the Seminary, though not at first as a candidate for the ministry. He at length became fully convinced of the truth of Christianity, and on the 2d of December, 1808, as he has recorded, made a dedication of himself to God. While he was considering in what field of labor he should spend his life, he read a pam- phlet called The Star in the East, which made a deep impres- sion upon him, and led him to think seriously of becoming a missionary. For some days, he says, in a letter written at Maulmain, nearly thirty years afterwards, I was unable to attend to the studies of my class, and spent my time in wondering at my past stupidity, depicting the most romantic scenes in missionary life, and roving about the col- lege rooms, declaiming on the subject of missions. My views were very incorrect, and my feelings extravagant; but yet I have always felt thankful to God for bringing me into that state of excitement, which was perhaps necessary, in the first instance, to enable me to break the strong attachment I felt to home and country, and to endure the thought of abandoning all my wonted pursuits and animating prospects. That voL. Lxxviii. NO. 162. 3 26 WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. [Jan. excitement soon passed away; but it left a strong desire to prosecute my inquiries, and ascertain the path of duty. It was during a solitary walk in the woods behind the~ college, while meditating and praying on the subject, and feeling half inclined to give it up, that the command of Christ, Go into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every creature, was presented to my mind with such clearness and power, that I came to a full decision, and though great difficulties appeared in my way, resolved to obey the command at all events.Vol. I. pp. 51, 52. As early as September, 1808, a missionary society had been formed at Williams College, of which Samuel J. Mills was a leading member. About the same time, Samuel J. Nott, Jr., while studying theology with his father in Connecticut, had thought seriously of giving himself to some missionary labor among the heathen. In 1809 10, these young men were brought together at Andover, and by mutual sympathy and prayer quickened each others zeal. In June, 1810, they laid the matter before the General Association of Ministers in Massachusetts, offering themselves as candidates for mission- ary labors. Their communication was favorably received, a Board of Commissioners for Foreign Missions was estab- lished, and the young men, Adoniram Judson, Jr., Samuel Nott, Jr., Samuel J. Mills, and Samuel Newell, were advised to put themselves under its patronage. This was the origin of the American Board of Commissioners for Foreign Mis- sions, which, during the forty-three years of its existence, has been constantly increasing its resources and enlarging the sphere of its operations, till it has become, through the volun- tary contributions of individuals from year to year, the most richly endowed and influential voluntary association in the United States. In 1811, Mr. Judson was sent to England in order to consult with a missionary board there. He was taken prisoner on his way out by a French privateer, confined at first in the hold of the vessel, and afterwards in a prison at Bayonne, in France, from which he made his escape in a yery singular manner, and finally succeeded in getting to England and arranging matters there to his mind. He was at this time small and exceedingly delicate in figure, with a round, rosy face, which gave him the appearance of extreme youth- 1854.] WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JLTDSON. 27 fulness. His hair and eyes were of a dark shade of brown, in his French passport described as chestnut. His voice, however, was far from what would be expected of such a person; and usually took the listeners by surprise. An instance of this occurred in London. He sat in the pulpit with a clergyman somewhat distinguished for his eccentricity, and at the close of the sermon was requested to read a hymn. When he had finished, the clergyman arose, and introduced his young brother to the congregation as a person who proposed devoting himself to the con- version of the heathen, adding, And if his faith is proportioned to his voice, he will drive the Devil from all India. Vol. I. p. 74. Soon after his return to this country, he was married to Ann Hasseltine, ordained as a missionary to India, and in Febru- ary, 1812, sailed from Salem for Calcutta, where he arrived in the following June. Soon after their arrival at Calcutta, both he and his wife, who had been studying the subject during their long passage, were baptized by immersion, and thus, in becoming Baptists, virtually separated themselves from the religious body by whom they had been sent out. He gives the reasons of his change in a long, heavy letter. His wifes communications on the subject are much more interesting, and better fitted for a biography. It was, she says with evident sincerity, extremely trying to reflect on the consequences of our becoming Baptists. We knew it would wound and grieve our dear Christian friends in America, that we should lose their approbation and esteem. We thought it probable the commissioners would refuse to support us; and, what was more dis- tressing than any thing, we knew we must be separated from our mis- sionary associates, and go alone to some heathen land. These things were very trying to us, and caused our hearts to bleed for anguish. We felt we had no home in this world, and no friend but each other. Vol. I. p. 107. He wrote to Rev. Dr. Bolles, a Baptist minister in Salem, and threw himself upon the Baptists for support. His ap- peal was generously responded to. A new interest in the subject was awakened, and the dormant energies of the de- nomination were roused. Missionary societies were formed in all our principal cities, and finally these smaller societies were merged in one great association, called the American Baptist Missionary Union, which, last year, raised a hundred 28 WAYLANDS LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. [Jan. and thirty-five thousand, and voted to increase the sum for the current year to a hundred and sixty thousand, dollars. This society supports one hundred and thirty missionaries, of whom sixty-four are preachers and sixty-six assistants. Be- sides these, it employs two hundred and five native preach- ers and assistants. There are one hundred and eighty-two churches, with more than fourteen thousand members, of whom thirteen hundred and sixty-one were added the last year. Its preachers may be found among North American Indians, in France, Germany, and Greece, at Bexley and Little Bassa on the coast of Africa, while in Asia its flourish- ing stations may be found at Rangoon, Maulmain, and Tavoy, in Arracan, at Sandoway, Bangcock, Hongkong, Ningpo, Sib- sagor, and among the Teloogoos at Nellore; and from these central points, out-stations, as they are called, are constantly advancing into the interior of the country. Soon after their arrival, the missionaries were driven from Calcutta by the Honorable East India Company,* when they took refuge in the Isle of France. Afterwards, returning as far as Madras, Mr. and Mrs. Judson were forced to put to sea in an old, crazy vessel, with imminent peril to her life. After a long voyage, they arrived at Rangoon, which is situated near one of the mouths of the Irrawadi, and which was then the principal seaport of the Burman empire. I went on shore, said Mr. Judson, just at night, to take a view of the place, and the mission-house; but so dark, and cheerless, and unprom- ising did all things appear, that the evening of that day, after my return to the ship, we have marked as the most gloomy and distressing that we ever passed. Instead of rejoicing, as we ought to have done, in having found a heathen land from which we were not immediately driven away, such were our weaknesses that we felt we had no portion left here below, and found consolation only in looking beyond our pilgrim- age, which we tried to flatter ourselves would be short, to that peaceful * Sir James Mackintosh, under date of September 4, 1813, speaking of his first appearance in the House of Commons after his return from India, says: My first division was a rather singular one, both because I was in a minority, and one com- posed of saints. It was iu support of the declaration that missionaries ought to be permitted to go to India, under proper precautions. This appeared.to me no more than a bare toleration of Christianity. Life of Sir James Mac ~ntosk, Vol. II. p. 268, in the fine Boston edition recently published by Messrs. Little and Brown. 1S~54.] WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JIJDSON. 29 region where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest. But if ever we commended ourselves sincerely, and without re- serve, to the disposal of our Heavenly Father, it was on this evening. And after some recollection and prayer, we experienced something of the presence of Him who cleaveth closer than a brother; something of that peace which our Saviour bequeathed to his followers, a legacy which we know from this experience endures when the fleeting pleas- ures and unsubstantial riches of the world are passed away. Vol. I. pp. 120, 121. At that time, there was not probably in all Burmah a single native who had embraced the religion of Jesus. Mr. and Mrs. Judson, from a remote continent, ignorant of the language, customs, and institutions of those around them, had come there in order to free them from the oppressive superstitions of ages, and to effect a revolution in the religious and moral character of the people. The means, we use Dr. Waylands language, by which this was to be accomplished was very simple. It was the announcement of the message from God to man, attended by the omnipotent power of the spirit of God. The Burmans are a reading people. They have their religious books, and they demanded our Scriptures that they might read for themselves. Hence it was evident that two things were essential, first, preaching, or oral instruction, to awaken an interest in the subject, then the Scriptures, to be circulated among the in- habitants in their native tongue. The missionaries imme- diately gave themselves up to the study of the language, and, under all their discouragements, they were sustained by the conviction that they were engaged in a great and holy work. Mr. Judson said: I keep myself as busy as possible all day long, from sunrise till late in the evening, in reading Burman, and conversing with the na- tives. I have been here a year and a haW and so extremely difficult is the language perhaps the most difficult to a foreigner of any on the face of the earth, next to the Chinese that I find myself very inadequate to communicate divine truth intelligibly. I have, in some instances, been so happy as to secure the attention, and in some degree to interest the feelings, of those who heard me; but I am not acquainted with a single instance in which any permanent impression has been pro- duced. Vol. I. p. 169. 3* 30 WAYLANDS LIFE OF DR. JTJDSON. [Jan. Again, Mrs. Judson says We frequently receive letters from our Christian friends in this part of the world, begging us to leave a field so entirely rough and un- cultivated, the soil of which is so unpromising, and enter one which presents a more plentiful harvest. God grant that we may live and die among the Burmans, though we should never do any thing more than smooth the way for others We need much, very much grace, that we may be faithful, and bear a faithful testimony to the religion of Jesus. Vol. I. pp. 170, 171. Three years pass by. Not a convert has been made, nor have they been able to induce a single native Burman even to inquire about the new religion. Their friends at home begin to be impatient for some visible tokens of success. If they ask again, writes Mr. Judson, What prospect of ulti- mate success is there? tell them, As much as that there is an almighty and faithful God, who will perform his promises, and no more. If this does not satisfy them, beg them to let me stay and try it, and to let you come, and to give us our bread; or, if they are unwilling to risk their bread on such a forlorn hope as has nothing but the WORD OF GOD to sustain it, beg of them, at least, not to prevent others from giving us bread; and, if we live some twenty or thirty years, they may hear from us again. This climate is good, better than in any other part of the East. But it is a most filthy, wretched place. Missionaries must not calculate on the least comfort, but what they find in one another and their work. However, if a ship was lying in the river, ready to convey me to any part of the world I should choose, and that, too, with the entire appro- bation of all my Christian friends, I would prefer dying to embarking. Vol. I. p. 179. We desire humbly to repeat to the board what the first missionaries from the Baptist society in England said to their friends, when on the point of embarkation in the great work which seems destined to illu- mine Western India with the light of the Gospel. We are, said they, like men going down into a well; you stand at the top and hold the ropes. Do not let us fall. Hold us up, brethren and fathers; and if health and life be spared to us, we hope, through the grace of God, to see Eastern India also beginning to participate in the same glorious light. Many years may intervene, in the latter as well as in the former ease; many difficulties and disappointments may try your faith and ours. 1854.] WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. 31 But let patience have her perfect work; let us not be weary of well- doing; for in due time we shall reap, if we faint not. VoL I. p. 184. After a long time a printing-press is secured. Mr. Judson published two small tracts, one of four, the other of six, l2mo pages, and disfributed them. He began to print a small edi- tion of the Gospel of St. Matthew. At length, March 7, 1817, he is able to say I have this day been visited by the first inquirer after religion that I have ever seen in Burmah. For, although in the course of the last two years I have preached the Gospel to many, and though some have visited me several times, and conversed on the subject of religion, yet I have never had much reason to believe that their visits originated in a spirit of sincere inquiry. Conversations on religion have always been of my proposing, and, though I have sometimes been encouraged to hope that truth had made some impression, never, till to-day, have I met with one who was fairly entitled to the epithet of inquirer. As I was sitting with my teacher, as usual, a Burman of respecta- ble appearance, and followed by a servant, came up the steps, and sat down by me. I asked him the usual question, where he came from, to which he gave no explicit reply, and I began to suspect that he had come from the government house, to enforce a trifling request which in the morning we had declined. He soon, however, undeceived and as- tonished me, by asking, How long time will it take me to learn the religion of Jesus? I replied, that such a question could not be an- swered. If God gave light and wisdom, the religion of Jesus was soon learned; but, without God, a man might study all his life long, and make no proficiency. But how, continued I, came you to know any thing of Jesus? Have you ever been here before? No. Have you seen any writing concerning Jesus? I have seen two little books. Who is Jesus? He is the Son of God, who, pitying creatures, came into this world, and suffered death in their stead. Who is God? He is a being without beginning or end, who is not subject to old age and death, but always is. I cannot tell how I felt at this moment. This was the first acknowledgment of an eternal God that I had ever heard from the lips of a Burman. I handed him a tract and catechism, both which he instantly recognized, and read here and there, making occasional remarks to his follower, such as, This is the true God; this is the right way, & c. I now tried to tell him some things about God and Christ, and himself but he did not listen with much attention, and seemed anxious only to get another book. I had already told him two 32 WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. [Jan. or three times that I had finished no other book, but that in two or three months I would give him a larger one, which I was now daily employed in translating. But, replied he, have you not a little of that book done, which you will graciously give me now? And I, beginning to think that Gods time is better than mans, folded and gave him the first two half sheets, which contain the first five chapters of Matthew, on which he instantly rose, as if his business was all done, and, having re- ceived an invitation to come again, took leave. Vol. I. pp. 187, 188. Here was ground for encouragement. Copies of the tracts were multiplied. The translation of the Gospel of St. Mat- thew was completed, and copies circulated among the natives, who, as they came from different parts of the empire for pur- poses of trade or to their religious festivals, gladly received them and carried them home to their kindred and neighbors. Curiosity is excited. The seeds of divine truth are borne back into distant places. The matter is talked over, and new in- terest is awakened. The faith in Gaudama is shaken in many minds. Religious discussions and controversies are carried on among the natives. New inquirers come to the missionary, and some of them, belonging to the educated classes, severely task his mind by their powers of reasoning, and their habits of philosophical thought. Still, six years pass by before a single convert has been bap- tized. At length, this entry is made: July 4, Lords day. 1819. We have had the pleasure of sitting down, for the first time, to the Lords table with a converted Burman. Mrs. Judson thus announces the event: Little did I think, when I last wrote, that I should so soon have the joyful intelligence to communicate, that one Burman has embraced the Christian religion, and given good evidence of being a true disciple of the dear Redeemer. This event, this single trophy of victorious grace, has filled our hearts with sensations hardly to be conceived by Chris- tians in Christian countries. This event has convinced us that God can and does operate on the minds of the most dark and ignorant, and that he makes his own truths, his own word, the instrument of operation. It serves also to encourage us to hope that the Lord has other chosen ones in this place.Vol. I. pp. 224, 225. Other converts are added. The zayat, where the good mis- sionary had sat whole months without a single visitor, was now 1854.] WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. 33 constantly frequented. The viceroy, passing by on a huge elephant, attended by his guards and numerous suite, eyes them very closely, and sends in two secretaries, signifying his highnesss desire to see the manner in which printing is executed. A learned man, a teacher, who for years has been trying, encouraging, perplexing, and disheartening them, gives himself up as a follower of Jesus, and proves faithful to the end. But these successes awaken the suspicions of the govern- ment, and the natives are no longer at liberty, as heretofore, to visit the zayat when they please. It is thought best that Mr. Judson should go to Ava, the capital of Burmah, and, if pos- sible, obtain from the emperor liberty to continue his labors at Rangoon. He was to go up the Irrawadi some four hundred miles. Accordingly, taking as a present for the emperor a Bible in six volumes, covered with gold-leaf in Burman style, and other presents such as he thought most likely to propitiate different members of the government, he left Rangoon on the 21st of December, 1819. The expedition, he said, on which we have entered, however it may terminate, is unavoidably fraught with consequences momentous and solemn beyond all conception. We are penetrating into the heart of one of the great kingdoms of the world, to make a formal offer of the Gospel to a despotic monarch, and through him to the millions of his subjects. May the Lord accompany us, and crown our attempt with the desired success, if it be consistent with his wise and holy will. Vol. I. p. 250. In about a month, he reached the imperial city, and on the 27th of January, he was allowed to see the emperor. The scene, he says, to which w~ were now introduced really surpassed our expectation. The spacious extent of the hall, the num- ber and magnitude of the pillars, the height of the dome, the whole completely covered with gold, presented a most grand and imposing spectacle. Very few were present, and those evidently great officers of state. Our situation prevented us from seeing the farther avenue of the hall; but the end where we sat opened into the parade which the em- peror was about to inspect. We remained about five minutes, when every one put himself into the most respectful attitude, and Moung Yo whispered that his majesty had entered. We looked through the hail 34 WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JTJDSON. [Jan. as far as the pillars would allow, and presently caught sight of this mod- ern Ahasuerus. He came forward unattended, in solitary grand- eur, exhibiting the proud gait and majesty of an Eastern monarch. His dress was rich, but not distinctive; and he carried in his hand the gold-sheathed sword, which seems to have taken the place of the sceptre of ancient times. But it was his high aspect and commanding eye that chiefly riveted our attention. He strided on. Every head excepting ours was now in the dust. We remained kneeling, our hands folded, our eyes fixed on the monarch. When he drew near, we caught his attention. He stopped, partly turned towards us, Who are these? The teachers, great king, I replied. What, you speak Burman, the priests that I heard of last night? When did you arrive? Are you teachers of religion? Are you like the Portuguese priest? Are you married? Why do you dress so? These and some other similar questions we answered, when he appeared to be pleased with us, and sat down on an elevated seat, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, and his eyes intently fixed on us. Moung Zah now began to read the petition The emperor heard the petition, and stretched out his hand. Moung Zah crawled forward and presented it. His majesty began at the top, and deliberately read it through. In the mean time, I gave Moung Zah an abridged copy of the tract, in which every offensive sentence was corrected, and the whole put into the handsomest style and dress possible. After the emperor had perused the petition, he handed it back without saying a word, and took the tract. Our hearts now rose to God for a display of his grace. 0, have mercy on Bur- mah! Have mercy on her king! But alas! the time was not yet come. He held the tract long enough to read the first two sentences, which assert that there is one eternal God, who is independent of the incidents of mortality, and that beside him there is no God; and then, with an air of indifference, perhaps disdain, he dashed it down to the ground. Moung Zah stooped forward, picked it up, and handed it to us. Moung Yo made a slight attempt to save us by unfolding one of the volumes, which composed our present, and displaying its beauty; but his majesty took no notice. Our fate was decided. After a few moments, Moung Zah interpreted his royal masters will in the follow- ing terms: Why do you ask for such permission? Have not the Por- tuguese, the English, the Mussulmans, and people of all other religions, full liberty to practise and worship according to their own customs? In regard to the objects of your petition, his majesty gives no order. In regard to your sacred books, his majesty has no use for thcm: take them away. 1854.] WAYLANDS LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. 35 He then rose from his seat, strided on to the end of the hail, and there, after having dashed to the ground the first intelligence that he had ever received of the eternal God, his Maker, his Preserver, his Judge, he threw himself down on a cushion, and lay listening to the music, and gazing at the parade spread out before him.Vol. I. pp. 254 256. So his hopes in that quarter had to be all abandoned. He sought and obtained an interview with the chief minister, but gained nothing by it. It was now evening. We had four miles to walk by moonlight. And, as our first parents took their solitary way through Eden, hand in hand, so we took our way through this great city, which, to our late imagination, seemed another Eden, but now, through the magic touch of disappointment, seemed blasted and withered, as if smitten by the fatal influence of the cherubic sword.Vol. I. p. 258. He returned to Rangoon, called the disciples together, and found them all firm. We told them that it was our inten- tion never to desert Burmah; but that, since the emperor refused to tolerate our religion, we thought it necessary to leave for a time those parts of the empire which are imme- diately under his dominion. The native converts and inquir- ers were so earnest in the matter, however, that it was decided not to abandon the mission. Mr. and Mrs. Judson soon after were obliged to take a voyage to Calcutta, on account of her health. They left Rangoon in July, 1820, and returned on the 5th of January, 1821. In the autumn of the same year, Mrs. Judson reluctantly left the mission and her husband at Ran- goon, for a voyage to the United States, the only thing that gave any promise of renewed health. Before the close of the summer, eighteen native Burmans had been baptized, and all bnt two had maintained an irreproachable Christian pro- fession. Mr. Judson had been joined by Rev. J. Price, M. ID., a missionary physician, whose success in his profession, par- ticularly in operations on the eyes, was soon so celebrated at Ava, that he was summoned to the capital by the emperor. He went, accompanied by Mr. Judson, and arrived at Ava iii September, 1822. They were kindly received by the em- peror, xvho wished them to make Ava their place of residence. The difficulty in the case of Dr. Judson was, to procure a va- cant spot where he could erect a building in which to carry 36 WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. [Jan. on his missionary operations. He had several interviews with the king, of which the following may serve as a specimen He [the king] inquired about the Burmans who had embraced my religion. Are they real Burmans? Do they dress like other Burmans? & c. I had occasion to remark that I preached every Sun- day. What! in Burman? Yes. Let us hear how you preach. I hesitated. An a-twen-woon repeated the order. I began with a form of worship which first ascribes glory to God, and then declares the com- mands of the law of the Gospel; after which I stopped. Go on, said another a-twen-woon. The whole court was profoundly silent. I pro- ceeded with a few sentences, declarative of the perfections of God, when his majestys curiosity was satisfied, and he interrupted me. In the course of subsequent conversation, he asked what I had to say of Gan- dama. I replied, that we all knew he was the son of King Thog-dan- dah-nah; that we regarded him as a wise man and a great teacher, but did not call him God. That is right, said Moung K. N., an a-twen- woon who had not hitherto appeared very friendly to me. And he proceeded to relate the substance of a long communication which I had lately made to him, in the privy council room, about God and Christ, & c. And this he did in a very clear and satisfactory manner, so that I had scarcely a single correction to make in his statement. Moung Zah, encouraged by all this, really began to take the side of God before his majesty, and said, Nearly all the world, your majesty, believe in an eternal God, all except Burmah and Siam, these little spots! His majesty remained silent, and after some other desultory inquiries, he abruptly arose, and retired.Vol. I. pp. 313, 314. A lot of ground was at last procured, though with every precaution against the encroachments of foreigners. Understand, teacher, said the chief officer, in concluding the ar- rangement, that we do not give you the entire owning of this ground. We take no recompense, lest it become American territory. We give it to you for your present residence only, and, when you go away, shall take it again. When I go away, my lord, those at whose expense the house is to be built, will desire to place another teacher in my stead. Very well, let him also occupy the place; but when he dies, or when there is no teacher, we will take it. In that case, my lord, take it. Vol. I. p. 317. Every thing now seemed going on prosperously; and Mr. Judson went to Rangoon to meet his wife, who soon after arrived from America, with health greatly improved, and, seven 1854.] WAYLAND $ LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. 37 days after her arrival at Rangoon, they were on their way to Ava. But before they reached the imperial city, they were met by rumors of war, and then by a powerful Burman army under their distinguished general, Bandoola, on their way to invade the British province of Chittagong. They were coldly received at the capital, and soon found themselves, in com- mon with all foreigners, the objects of an unjust and cruel suspicion. Their friend, Dr. Price, was out of favor at court. While they were anxiously waiting the turn which affairs might take, the king, with all the pomp of Eastern royalty, came into the city to take formal possession of a new palace which he had been erecting. After a few days, news came that the English had taken Rangoon. The government were now all in motion. New corps of troops were sent off, and the only apprehension ex- pressed was, lest the English, on hearing of the formidable armaments sent against them, would flee to their ships and escape before time had been given to secure them as slaves. The condition of the missionaries became more perilous. The English residents at Ava were put into confinement. We now, says Mrs. Judson, began to tremble for ourselves, and were in daily expectation of some bloody event. On the 8th of June, just as we were preparing for dinner, in rushed an officer holding a black book, with a dozen Burmans, accompanied by one, whom, from his spotted face, we knew to be an executioner, and a son of the prison. Where is the teacher? was the first inquiry. Mr. Judson presented himself. You are called by the king, said the officer, a form of speech always used when about to arrest a criminal. The spotted man instantly seized Mr. Judson, threw him on the floor, and produced the small cord, the instrument of torture. I caught hold of his arm. Stay, said I; I will give you money. Take her too, said the officer; she also is a foreigner. Mr. Judson, with an implor- ing look, begged they would let me remain till further orders. The scene was now shocking beyond description. The whole neighborhood had collected; the masons at work on the brick house threw down their tools, and ran; the little Burman children were screaming and crying; the Bengalee servants stood in amazement at the indignities offered their master; and the hardened executioner, with a kind of hellish joy, drew tight the cords, bound Mr. Judson fast, and dragged him off I knew not whither. In vain I begged and entreated the spotted face to voL. LxxvIII.No. 162. 4 38 WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. [Jan. take the silver, and loosen the ropes; but he spurned my offers, and immediately departed. I gave the money, however, to Moung Jug to follow after, to make some further attempt to mitigate the torture of Mr. Judson; but instead of succeeding, when a few rods from the house, the unfeeling wretches again threw their prisoner on the ground, and drew the cords still tighter, so as almost to prevent respiration. Vol. I. pp. 338, 339. With remarkable presence of mind, Mrs. Judson destroyed all her letters and other papers, lest they should be tortured into evidence against her husband. She then came out and sub- mitted to the examination of the magistrate, who, after inquir- ing very minutely of every thing she knew, ordered the place to be shut, and stationed a guard of ten officers before it. It was now dark. I retired to an inner room with my four little Burman girls, and barred the doors. The guard instantly ordered me to unbar the doors and come out, or they would break the house down. I obstinately refused to obey, and endeavored to intimidate them by threat- ening to complain of their conduct to higher authorities on the morrow. Finding me resolved in disregarding their orders, they took the two Bengalee servants, and confined them in the stocks in a very painful position. I could not endure this, but called the head man to the win- dow, and promised to make them all a present in the morning, if they would release the servants. After much debate, and many severe threatenings, they consented, but seemed resolved to annoy me as much as possible. My unprotected, desolate state, my entire uncertainty of the fate of Mr. Judson, and the dreadful carousings and almost diaboli- cal language of the guard, all conspired to make it by far the most dis- tressing night I had ever passed. Vol. I. pp. 339, 340. The second day, she learned that Dr. Judson and all the white foreigners were confined in the death-prison, with three pairs of iron fetters each, and fastened to a long pole to pre- vent their moving. On the third day, she succeeded in getting permission to leave her house. She was kindly received by the governor of the city, and through her entreaties, seconded by the powerful influence of a bribe, she was allowed to visit the prison. Mr. Judson crawled to the door of the prison, for I was never allowed to enter, gave me some directions relative to his release; but before we could make any arrangement, I was ordered to depart 1854.1 WAYLANDS LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. 39 by those iron-hearted jailers, who could not endure to see us enjoy the poor consolation of meeting in that miserable place. In vain I pleaded the order from the governor for my admittance; they again harshly repeated, Depart, or we will pull you out. The same evening the missionaries, together with the other foreigners, who paid an equal sum, were taken out of the common prison, and confined in an open shed in the prison inclosure. Here I was allowed to send them food, and mats to sleep on, but was not permitted to enter again for several days. Vol. I. pp. 341, 342. This imprisonment, first at Ava and then at Oung-pen-la, some ten or twelve miles from the city, continued twenty-one months, and Mrs. Judsons account of it,in a letter to Mr. Judsons brother, is one of the most affecting narratives that we have ever read. She was herself, most of the time, in infirm health, and had several severe attacks of illness. Her husband was subjected to the harshest treatment; he suffered terribly from repeated sicknesses and the cruelty of his keep- ers, and must assuredly have perished had it not been that an angel ministered unto him. Then, as Dr. Wayland with equal truth and beauty of expression has said, were revealed those elements of character which designated Mrs. Judson as one of the most remarkable women of her age. She was the only European female in Ava, and the only foreigner who was not consigned to prison. Her whole time, with the exception of twenty days when she was confined by the birth of her child, was devoted to the alleviation of the sorrows of her husband and his fellow-prisoners. Perfectly familiar with the Burman language, of a presence which commanded respect even from savage barbarians and encircled her with a moral atmosphere in which she walked unharmed in the midst of a hostile city with no earthly protector, she was universally spoken of as the guardian angel of that band of sufferers. Sometimes she appealed to the officers of government, but more frequently to their wives, and pleaded for compassion with an eloquence which even they could not resist. Fertile in resources, and wholly regardless of her own privations or exposure, she was incessantly occupied in alleviating the pain, or ministering to the wants, of those who had no other friend. Rarely does it happen that the moral extremes of which our nature is susceptible are brought into so striking contrast as in the present in- stance. On the one hand might here have been seen the most degraded of mankind inflicting in sport the most horrid cruelties, month after 40 WAYTAAND S LIFE OF DR JUPSON. [Jan. month, upon their fellow-men, some of whom had sacrificed every earthly comfort for the good of their tormentors; and on the other hand there were seen, in the midst of this horde of ruffians, a lady, whose intelligence and refinement had quite lately won the admiration of the highest circles of the British metropolis, soothing the sorrows of the captive, ministering to the wants of the sick, providing and preparing food for the starving, consoling the dying with words of heavenly peace; heedless of meridian suns and midnight dews, though surround- ed by infection, devoting herself with prodigal disinterestedness to the practice of heavenly charity, and sustaining the courage of men inured to danger and familiar with death by the example of her own dauntless resolution. Vol. I. pp. 329, 330. She made her applications to the queen, to Bandoola, the favorite general, and wherever there could be the least hope of assistance. The following is an account of one of her many interviews with the governor of the city, and gives some indication of the sort of power she had over him. She had just heard that Dr. Judson and his companions were put into the inner prison, and each loaded with five pairs of fetters. I went immediately to the governors house. He was not at home, but had ordered his wife to tell me, when I came, not to ask to have the additional fetters taken off, or the prisoners released, for ~t could not be done. I went to the prison gate, but was forbidden to enter. All was as still as death, not a white face to be seen, or a vestige of Mr. Judsons little room remaining. I was determined to see the gov- ernor, and know the cause of this additional oppression, and for this purpose returned into town the same evening, at an hour I knew he would be at home. He was in his audience-room, and, as I entered, looked up without speaking, but exhibited a mixture of shame and affected anger in his countenance. I began by saying, Your lordship has hitherto treated us with the kindness of a father. Our obligations to you are very great. We have looked to you for protection from oppression and cruelty. You have in many instances mitigated the sufferings of those unfortunate though innocent beings committed to your charge. You have promised me particularly that you would stand by me to the last, and though you should receive an order from the king, you would not put Mr. Judson to death. What crime has he committed to deserve such additional punishment? The old mans hard heart was melted, for he wept like a child. I pity you, Tsa-yah- ga-dan, a name by which he always called me; I knew you would 1854.] WAYLANDS LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. 41 make me feel; I therefore forbade your application. But you must believe me when I say I do not wish to increase the sufferings of the prisoners. When I am ordered to execute them, the least that I can do is, to put them out of sight. I will now tell you, continued he, what I have never told you before, that three times I have received intimations from the queens brother to assassinate all the white prison- ers privately; but I would not do it. And I now repeat it, though I execute all the others, I will never execute your husband. But I can- not release him from his present confinement, and you must not ask it. I had never seen him manifest so much feeling, or so resolute in de- nying me a favor, which circumstance was an additional reason for thinking dreadful scenes were before us. The situation of the prisoners was now distressing beyond descrip- tion. It was at the commencement of the hot season. There were above a hundred prisoners shut up in one room, without a breath of air excepting from the cracks in the boards. I sometimes obtained per- mission to go to the door for five minutes, when my heart sickened at the wretchedness exhibited. The white prisoners, from incessant per- spiration and loss of appetite, looked more like the dead than the living. I made daily applications to the governor, offering him money, which he refused; but all that I gained was permission for the foreigners to eat their food outside, and this continued but a short time. Vol. I. pp. 350, 351. After this, while Dr. Judson was suffering severely from a fever, he with his fellow-prisoners was removed to Oung-pen- la under circumstances of the most aggravated cruelty, tied together two and two, without hat or shoes, driven at the hot- test season, under a burning sun, over sand and gravel which seemed like burning coals to their feet. The governor had contrived to divert Mrs. Judsons attention, so that she did not know when her husband was taken. She soon, however, heard a vague report respecting it, and ran immediately to the governor. He promised to send a man to make inquiries; but added, You can do nothing more for your husband; take care of yourself. With a heavy heart she went to her room. For several days she had been thinking how she might contrive means to get into the prison. But now, she says, I looked towards the gate with no wish to enter. All was the stillness of death all my employ- ment, all my occupations, seemed to have ceased, and I had 4* 42 WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. [Jan. nothing left but the dreadful recollection that Mr. Judson was carried off I knew not whither. She collected her few articles of value, deposited them at the house of the governor, and with her infant daughter, two Burman children, and faithful Bengalee cook, who adhered to them through all their sufferings, she went on the track of her husband, till she reached Oung-pen-la, where she was conducted directly to the prison yard. The prison was an old, shattered building without a roof. Under a low projection outside sat the foreigners, chained together two and two, almost dead with sufferings and fatigue. They had been there but an hour or two when she arrived. She did all that could be done to alleviate the wretchedness of their condition. Her husbands fever still continued. The morning after their arrival, one of the Burman children was taken with the small-pox, and soon her own infant child had it severely, and more than three months elapsed before it perfectly recovered. Mrs. Judsons constitution seemed at length to be utterly worn down. She set out in an ox-cart for Ava, to procure medicines and food. After a most painful journey, as she says, I just reached Oung-pen-la when my strength seemed entirely ex- hausted. The good native cook came out to help me into the house; but so altered and emaciated was my appearance, that the poor fellow burst into tears at the first sight. I crawled on to the mat in the little room, to which I was confined for more than two months, and never perfectly recovered until I came to the English camp. At this period, when I was unable to take care of myself or look after Mr. Judson, we must both have died, had it not been for the faithful and affection- ate care of our Bengalee cook Our dear little Maria was the greatest sufferer at this time, my illness depriving her of her usual nourishment, and neither a nurse nor a drop of milk could be procured in the village. By making presents to the jailers, I obtained leave for Mr. Judson to come out of prison, and take the emaciated creature around the village, to beg a little nourish- ment from those mothers who had young children. Her cries in the night were heart-rending, when it was impossible to supply her wants. Sometimes our jailors seemed a little softened at our distress, and, for several days together, allowed Mr. Judson to come to the house, which was to me an unspeakable consolation. Then, again, they would be as iron-hearted in their demands as though we were free from 1854.] WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. 43 sufferings, and in affluent circumstances. The annoyance, the extor- tions, and oppressions, to which we were subject during our six months residence in Oung-pen-la, are beyond enumeration or description. VoL I. pp. 360362. One evening, it was rumored that all the prisoners were to be put to death at three oclock in the morning, and under this apprehension they passed the night. A touching sketch is given of Dr. Judsons thoughts and emotions while waiting for the hour of execution. In the morning, the jailer came; and, in answer to their questions, chucked them mockingly under the chin, and told them, 0 no; he could not spare his beloved children yet, just after kicking the bamboo as he spoke, till all the chains rattled, and the five rows of fetters dashed together, pinching sharply the flesh that they caught between them just after he had taken so much trouble to procure them fitting ornaments. Vol. I. p. 386. Sometimes, we quote here from an account given by the present Mrs. Judson, for weeks together, they had no food but rice, savored with ngapee, a certain preparation of fish, not always palatable to foreigners. But once, when a term of unusual quiet gave her time for the softer and more homely class of loving thoughts, Mrs. Judson made a great effort to surprise her husband with something that should re- mind him of home. She planned and labored, until, by the aid of buffalo beef and plantains, she actually concocted a mince pie. Unfor- tunately, as she thought, she could not go in person to the prison that day; and the dinner was brought by smiling Moung Jng, who seemed aware that some mystery must be wrapped up in that peculiar prep- aration of meat and fruit, though he had never seen the well-spread boards of Plymouth and Bradfbrd. But the pretty little artifice only added another pang to a heart whose susceptibilities were as quick and deep, as, in the sight of the world, they were silent. When his wife had visited him in prison, and borne taunts and insults with and for him, they could be brave together; when she had stood up like an en- chantress, winning the hearts of high and low, making savage jailers, and scarcely less savage nobles, weep; or moved, protected by her own dignity and sublimity of purpose, like a queen along the streets, his heart had throbbed with proud admiration; and he was almost able to thank God for the trials which had made a character so intrinsically noble shine forth with such peculiar brightness. But in this simple, homelike act, this little, unpretending effusion of a loving heart, there 44 WAYLANDS LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. [Jan. was something so touching, so unlike the part she had just been acting, and yet so illustrative of what she really was, that he bowed his head upon his knees, and the tears flowed down to the chains about his ankles He saw again the home of his boyhood. His stern, strangely revered father, his gentle mother, his rosy, curly-haired sister, and pale young brother were gathered for the noonday meal, and he was once more among them. And so his fancy revelled there. Finally he lifted his head. He moved his feet, and the rattling of the heavy chains was a death knell. He thrust the carefully prepared dinner into the hand of his associate, and as fast as his fetters would permit, hurried to his own little shed. Vol. I. pp. 378, 379. At length, the imperial government, constrained by repeated reverses in the war, began to feel the necessity of listening to some terms of peace; and Dr. Judson, as the man best fitted to assist them in their negotiations with the English, was taken from prison and sent to the Burman camp. Here he rendered essential services, for which he afterwards received a vote of thanks from the East India government. While he was thus absent, his wife was taken down by the spotted fever, with all its attendant horrors, and reduced so low, that the Burmese neighbors who came in to see her expire, said, She is dead; and if the King of angels should come in, he could not recover her. When she was beginning to recover, the news came that Dr. Judson had been again committed to prison. I was too weak, she said, to bear ill tidings of any kind; but a shock so dreadful as this almost annihilated me If I ever felt the value and efficacy of prayer, I did at this time. I could not rise from my couch; I could make no efforts to secure my husband; I could only plead with that great and powerful Being who has said, Call upon me in the day of trouble, and I will hear, and thou shalt glorify me, and who made me at this time feel so powerfully this promise that I became quite composed, feeling assured that my prayers would be answered. Vol. I. pp. 365, 366. Dr. Judson heard of her illness, and succeeded in getting permission to visit her. The door stood invitingly open, and, without having been seen by any one, he entered. The first object which met his eye was a fat, half- 1854.] WAYLANDS LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. 45 naked Burman woman, squatting in the ashes beside a pan of coals, and holding on her knees a wan baby, so begrimed with dirt that it did not occur to the father it could be his own. He gave but one hasty look, and hurried to the next room. Across the foot of the bed, as though she had fallen there, lay a human object, that, at the first glance, was scarcely more recognizable than his child. The face was of a ghastly paleness, the features sharp, and the whole form shrunken almost to the last degree of emaciation The whole room pre- sented an appearance of the very extreme of wretchedness, more har- rowing to the feelings than can be told. There lay the devoted wife, who had followed him so unweariedly from prison to prison, ever alle- viating his distresses, without even common hireling attendance. Vol. I. p. 394. After so many months of suffering, they were at last set at liberty, and sent down the river to the British camp. It was on a cool, moonlight evening in the month of March, that, xvith hearts filled with gratitude to God, and overflowing with joy at our prospects, we passed down the Jrrawadi, surrounded by six or eight golden boats, and accompanied by all we had on earth. And with what sensations of delight did I be- hold the masts of the steamboat, the sure presage of being within the bounds of civilized life. I presume to say that no persons on earth were ever happier than we were during the fortnight we passed at the English camp. Many years afterwards, in a company of friends who were discussing the different kinds of sensuous enjoyment, and had given some striking illustrations, Dr. Judson said, I know of a much higher pleasure than that. What do you think of floating down the Irrawadi, on a cool, moonlight evening, with your wife by your side, and your baby in your arms, free, all free? But you cannot understand it either; it needs a twenty-one months qualification; and I can never regret my twenty-one months of misery, when I recall that one delicious thrill. I think I have had a better appreciation of what heaven may be ever since. They were most kindly received by the English general, Sir Archibald Campbell. Nor were the attentions of brave men ever more worthily bestowed; for even that army of war- worn veterans could not boast of a more heroic spirit than 46 WAYLAND$ LIFE OF DR. JUBSON. [Jan. that which animated the slender and wasted form of Ann Hasseltine Judson. Amherst, which had been selected for the capital of the Tenasserim provinces, was now chosen by the missionaries as the place from which, under the auspices, or at least under the protection, of the British government, they could carry on their operations. On the 2d of July, 1826, they reached Amherst, and on the bth, Dr. Judson left his wife there, while he went back to Rangoon and Ava, in the suite of Mr. Craw- ford, the British commissioner, who had been appointed to treat with the Burman government. He had joined the em- bassy with the hope of having some influence in procuring terms of religious toleration. But he soon found himself dis- appointed in this respect, and was obliged to continue in a service which had very little to interest him. While at Ava, on the 24th of November, he heard of the death of Mrs. Jud- son. Her constitution probably had been worn out by the hardships and incessant labors of the last two years. She died on the 24th of October, in the thirty-seventh year of her age. She had sickened and died among strangers. A few native Christian women were her only female attendants. Her last request to Dr. Richardson, her medical attendant, was, that he would convey to her husband her earnest en- treaty that he would never consent to enter the service of the British government, but confine himself exclusively to the duties of his religious mission. We cannot dismiss the account of this remarkable woman without a few words more. An English officer, Major Calder Campbell, thus de- scribes her appearance when he met her on the Irrawadi river, just as he had been robbed and severely wounded by his boatmen. She was seated in a large sort of swinging chair, of American con- struction, in which her slight, emaciated, but graceful form appeared almost ethereal. Yet, with much of heaven, there were still the breathings of earthly feeling about her; for at her feet rested a babe, a little, wan baby, on which her eyes often turned with all a mothers love; and gazing frequently upon her delicate features, with a fond yet fearful glance, was that meek missionary, her husband. Her fhce was pale, very pale, with that expression of deep and serious thought which 1834.] WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. 47. speaks of the strong and vigorous mind within the frail and perishing body; her brown hair was braided over a placid and holy brow; but her hands those small, lily hands were quite beautiful; beautiful they were, and very wan; for ab, they told of disease, of death, death in all its transparent grace, when the sickly blood shines through the clear skin, even as the bright poison lights up the Venetian glass which it is about to shatter. That lady was Mrs. Judson, whose long captivity and severe hardships amongst the Burmese have since been detailed in her published journals. I remained two days with them; two delightful days they were to me. Mrs. Judsons powers of conversation were of the first order, and the many affecting anecdotes that she gave us of their long and cruel bondage, their struggles in the cause of religion, and their adventures during a long residence at the court of Ava, gained a heightened in- terest from the beautiful, energetic simplicity of her language, as well as from the certainty I felt that so fragile a flower, as she in very truth was, had but a brief season to linger on earth. Vol. I. p. 399. Dr. Wayland, whose acquaintance among intelligent, noble women must have been unusually extensive, and whose judg.. ment is as little likely as any ones to be carried away by his feelings, says of her I do not remember ever to have met a more remarkable woman. To great clearness of intellect, large powers of comprehension, and intuitive female sagacity, ripened by the constant necessity of independent action, she added that heroic disinterestedness which naturally loses all con- sciousness of self in the prosecution of a great object. These elements, however, were all held in reserve, and were hidden from public view by a veil of unusual feminine delicacy. To an ordinary observer, she would have appeared simply a self-possessed, well-bred, and very intel- ligent gentlewoman. A more intimate acquaintance would soon discover her to be a person of profound religious feeling, which was ever mani- festing itself in efforts to impress upon others the importance of personal piety. The resources of her nature were never unfolded until some occasion occurred which demanded delicate tact, unflinching courage, and a power of resolute endurance even unto death. When I saw her, her complexion bore that sallow hue which commonly follows residence in the East Indies. Her countenance at first seemed, when in repose, deficient in expression. As she found herself among friends who were interested in the Burman mission, her reserve melted away, her eye kindled, every feature was lighted up with enthusiasm, and she was everywhere acknowledged to be one of the most fascinating of women. Vol. I. p. 304. WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. [Jan. The little child, born in the midst of so much suffering, soon followed her mother, and for the next eight years, Dr. Judson was left with no domestic ties to bind him to the earth. He gave himself with greater zeal and devotedness, if possible, than ever to his work, wherever it might call him. He relin- quished, first a twentieth, and then a quarter part of his salary, and gave all his property, amounting to six thousand dollars, to the American Baptist Missionary Union. Finding that much of his time was taken up in social intercourse, he denied himself entirely the pleasure of cultivated society, though no one could enjoy it more; and in a spirit not unlike that of St. Pauls appeal to King Agrippa, wrote to Sir Archibald Camp- bell, whose kindness he had so often experienced: 0 Sir Archibald, the glittering colors of this world will soon fade away; the bubbles of life will soon burst and disappear; the cold grave will soon close upon our worldly enjoyments, and honors, and aspirings; and where then will our souls be? Turn away thine eye from the fleeting shadows, and thine ear from the empty sounds of earth. Give thine heart to the Friend and Lover of man, who hung and died upon the cross to redeem us from eternal woe, and thou shalt find such peace and sweetness as thou hast never yet conceived of. But if thou wilt not give thy heart to God, thou wilt never find true happiness here, thou wilt never see his face in peace. In July, 1826, Dr. Judson removed from Amherst to Maul- main, which was henceforth to be the principal seat of the Burman mission. He went afterwards from Maulmain to Rangoon, to Prome, thence to Rangoon, and to Maulmain again. From Maulmain he made frequent excursions among the Karens in their native jungles, penetrating the recesses of the forest and threading every accessible rivulet. Wher- ever he could find listeners, were they many or few, there he stopped to discourse4 on the message of redeeming love. Whether from his boat or on the shore, whether by day or by night, he was always ready to reveal to these wandering bar- barians the love of God in sending his Son for our redemption. In this work he was remarkably successful. It was, more- over, the work in which, above all others, he delighted. As, at the commencement of his labors at Rangoon, he built a 1854.] WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. 49 zayat by the way-side, and told every passer-by that Christ had died for him and now offered him eternal life, so now, wher- ever he went, he proclaimed the same truths, and the darker his prospects looked, the more earnestly he prayed. His preach- ing in the Burman language, in which he was more at home than in his native tongue, was peculiarly earnest and impres- sive. Wrapt in the views of an overshadowing eternity and the appalling magnitude of the work in which he was engaged, with no domestic relations to soothe his wearied mind or con- nect him with civilized life, it is not strange that Dr. Judson found himself living more and more as the inhabitant of an- other world, and guarding with the jealousy of an anchorite against every thing that might tend to draw his thoughts or affections from it. The life and writings of Madame Guyon, the Imitation of Christ, and the kindred works of F6nelon and Thomas Law, were his favorite books. He framed severe rules of discipline for himself. Get the kings daughter, and you get all; the grace of devotion is the daughter of God. Do nothing from your own will, but all from the will of God. Keep turning the soul to God until it habitually rest in God. Keep the cross of Christ in view. Among the ways in which he was exposed to self-indulgence, he particu- larly noted these: The passion for neatness, uniformity, and order in the arrangement of things. A disposition to suffer annoyance from little improprieties in the behaviour and con- versation of others. Unwillingness to bear contradiction. His love of order and neatness, which he considered excessive, and likely to interfere with his labors among the filthy Karens, he endeavored to overcome by performing repulsive offices for those who were sick with the most revolting diseases. He longed for a nearer resemblance to the Divine nature, and for this purpose practised austerities which he never thought of recommending to others, and which he imposed upon himself only for a time, in order to bring himself into perfect submission to the will of God. His sfrongest earthly affections had been transferred to another world, where were gathered all, both created and uncreated, whom he most dearly loved. The realities of eternity were ever present to his mind; von. Lxxviii. NO. 162. 5 50 WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. [Jan. and there natnrally arose within him a desire, amounting to a passion, to become assimilated as nearly as it was possible to those whom he loved, who were now without sin. For a further view of his conduct in these particulars, we can only refer to Dr. Waylands excellent remarks, near the close of his first volume, and to the general estimate of Dr. Judsons char- acter and labors with which he concludes the work. After a solitary life of nearly eight years, Dr. Judson was married, at Tavoy, in April, 1834, to Mrs. Sarah Hall, widow of Rev. George D. Boardman, a woman who had already had great experience and success in the missionary enterprise. She died on the 1st of September, 1845. To the general reader, these eleven years will perhaps appear to be the least interest- ing, though not the least instructive, part of the memoir. They were by no means the least laborious or the least trying part of Dr. Judsons life. He was, indeed, cheered by the sympathy and assistance of a woman of uncommon loveliness in all her private relations, and of remarkable wisdom and devotedness in her more public duties. But the novelty of the mission was now gone. He was no longer, as he had been, in exposed and dangerous situations. Other men had joined him in his labors. He was surrounded at Maulmain by quite a society of missionaries. Converts were numbered by hundreds, and around him were several successful missionary stations. Hav- ing been the first on the ground, he was generally looked up to as a father and counsellor; and excellent advice he gave, both to the missionary board at home, and to young men about to enter the field. He was opposed to large missionary establishments in any one spot. He believed that the New Testament furnished the best directions and the best models for the extension of the Gospel among unbelievers. He would have the laborers, like the primitive disciples, go from village to village, establish themselves wherever a suitable field might be found, come as soon as possible into contact with the natives, excite inquiry, make converts, form churches, educate and employ the natives as assistants, make their disciples familiar with Christian doc- trines and precepts by personal intercourse, by books, and es- pecially by the circulation of the Scriptures in their own language. 1854.] WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JTJDSON. 51 There is, he writes, a strange, unaccountable reluctance among my missionary brethren to leave this place [Maulmain]. Not a soul will look towards Tavoy, though poor Mrs. Mason has been here, and spent a week with us, imploring our aid The general reply which I get from the brethren is, We must stay and get the language. But look at dear Boardman. In eleven months after landing at Amherst, he was in Tavoy. And what a light he kindled up during his short lifet How much better for a young missionary to dash into Toung-oo, or some other place, get the language from the living sounds, build up a church, kindle up a bright light that will never go out! Vol. II. pp. 79, 80. A year later, he says I have now learned that one missionary standing by himself; feeling his individual responsibility, andforced to put forth all his efforts, is worth half a dozen cooped up in one place, while there are unoccupied stations in all directions, and whole districts, of thousands, and hundreds of thousands, perishing in the darkness of heathenism I have now five native assistants, who spend an hour with me, every morning, in reporting the labors of the preceding day, in receiving instructions, and in praying together. These men penetrate every lane and corner of this place and the neighboring villages; and since I have adopted this plan, about four months, there are some very encouraging appearances. As soon as I get through with the Old Testament com- plete, I want to double their number, and devote part of my time to instructing them systematically. Now, ten such persons, half students, half assistants, cost no more than one missionary family; and for actual service, they are certainly worth a great deal more. This is the way in which 1 think missions ought to be conducted. One missionary, or two, at most, ought to be stationed in every important central place, to collect a church and an interest around him; to set the native wheels to work, and to keep them at work. Very few native assistants will hold out well unless well instructed, and kept under rigid snpervision. An additional missionary would doubtless do good; but nearly all the good he would do would probably he done if he were away, laboring in some other place, which, but for him, would be unoccupied, and where, of course, all that he should effect would be so much net gain to the cause.Vol. II. pp. 99 101. On this point he was exceedingly earnest, and we believe that the whole history of successful missions, from the time of the Apostles, goes to prove the soundness of his views. On another point he was equally decided. He would first convert 52 WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JIJDSON. [Jan. and then educate the heathen. The preaching of the Gospel should go before the establishment of schools. When once the natives had embraced Christianity, it would be easy to interest them and their children in the cause of education. Schools would then spring up under Christian auspices, where Christian feelings and ideas would be instilled. But schools for heathen children, pledged, as the government schools had been, to educate the young without imbuing them with Chris- tian principles, would raise up powerful opponents to the mis- sionary cause, especially when these seminaries were only English schools. He considered it a matter of great impor- tance to infuse the precepts of our religion into the mother tongue of those whom he would convert, that it might address itself to them through all the subtle associations of their native language. I am more and more convinced, he says in 1849, of the truth of a remark which I made some years ago, that English preaching, Eng- lish teaching, and English periodicals are the bane of missions at the East It begins to be found that popular English schools, con- taining hundreds of pupils and instructed by great and powerful men, but men ignorant of all native languages, will never convert the millions of the heathen. Such schools, as the senior missionary of the Kishnagur mission lately observed to me, on visiting this place, are very pretty things to amuse English visitors with, and make interesting reports for people at a distance, who cannot enter into the merits of the case. ~ Vol. II. p. 318. His advice to young men preparing for missionary labors is marked by his keen good-sense and the earnestness of a soul entirely devoted to the cause. He would have them led only by the highest motives. I have seen so much of the trials and responsibility of missionary labors, that I am unwilling to urge any one to assume them. The urging must come from a higher source. He would have them engage for life, and for no limited term. It is with regret and consternation that we have just learned that a new missionary has come out for a limited term of years. I have seen the beginning, middle, and end of several limited term missionaries. They are all good for nothino They come out for a few years, with the view of acquiring a stock of credit on which jthey may vegetate the 1854.] WAYLANDS LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. 53 rest of their days, in the congenial climate of their native land. As to lessening the trials of the candidate for missions, and making the way smooth before him, it is just what ought not to be done. hi/us- sionaries need more trials on tlzeir first setting out, instead of less. The motto of every missionary, whether preacher, printer, or school.. master, ought to be, Devoted for life. A few days ago, brother Kincaid was asked by a Burmese officer of government how long he intended to stay. Until all Burmak worships the eternal Cod, was the prompt reply. In a letter to young men about to embark for the East, he advises them not to be ravenous to do good on shipboard, for missionaries have frequently done more hurt than good, by injudicious zeal on their passage out. After warning them against the danger arising from flattering attentions at home, he quietly adds, It may be profitable to bear in mind, that a large proportion of those who come out on missions to the East die within five years after leaving their native land. Walk softly, therefore; death is narrowly watching your steps.~~ From these and other intimations, we should infer that Dr. Judson did not always find that the young missionaries entered the field with his own singleness of purpose and spirit of self- sacrifice, though many of them were worthy of their high call- ing. Still more was he, at times, tried by his native as- sistants. He writes thus respecting two of them If Thah-byoo is refractory, and threatens to perpetrate any enor- mities, such as baptizing and the like, his allowance must be cut off. This will make him exceedingly reasonabic. If the Karens will not come to Rangoon to be baptized, they may stay at home. Ko Tbah-a must never be allowed to go to their villages and baptize by the dozen, nor must he baptize in Rangoon, only on the conditions specified in my letter If Thah-a is refractory, there is a way of taming him. Most of these assistants, however, were faithful and devoted men. As an offset to what we have given above, we would subjoin the following account of another, who soon after died at his post in the fulness of the Christian faith. During the last year of his life, Ko Ing was supported from the donations of Mr. Colgate of New York. But at the close of October, 54 WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. [Jan. 1833, he wrote, that, on account of his unworthiness and want of suc- cess, he declined receiving any further allowance; that his wife of whose conversion he had been the means was able, by keeping a small shop, to support the family; but that he intended, however, to devote himself the same as before to the work to which he had been called. Accordingly, the same letter reports his labors and states his plans for future operations. Such communications he continued to make till his death. Vol. II. p. 90. The following extract from his journal kept for the mission- ary board in this country leaves a painful impression on our mind, while it proves the perfect honesty and faith of the writer. The disposition to suppress unfavorable facts, and to give an exaggerated importance to those of an opposite kind, is one which is so often indulged by the directors of associa- tions depending on public sympathy for support, that we sel- dom read the published reports of any such society without making, as we go along, large deductions from their statements. We can easily see how utterly repugnant this course must have been to an honest man like Judson, who had accustomed himself to look at difficulties as they were, and to meet them with a brave heart. In the case before us, he has been speak- ing of the apostasy of two converts, of whom the missionaries had had great expectations, and whose defection had caused six other hopeful inquirers to fall off. He then adds: I respectfully request, and sincerely hope, that this article may be neither suppressed nor polished. The principle of double selection, as it is termed, that is, one selection by the missionary and another by the pub- lishing committee, has done great mischief and contributed more to impair the credit of missionary accounts than any thing else. We in the East, knowing how extensively this principle is acted on, do scarcely give any credit to the statements which appear in some periodicals, and the pub- lic at large are beginning to open their eyes to the same thing. It is strange to me that missionaries and publishing committees do not see the excellency and efficacy of the system pursued by the inspired writ- ers, that of exhibiting the good and the bad alike. Nothing contrib- utes more to establish the authenticity of the writing. A temporary advantage gained by suppressing truth is a real defeat in the end. Vol. II. p. 46. He several times refers to this matter, and always most 1854.] WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. 55 earnestly requests and demands that discouraging statements may not be suppressed. Let the truth, he said, the whole truth, be known, and let us put our trust in God. From the time wheu Dr. Judson first came to Rangoon, in 1813, one of his most earnest wishes had been to give to the Burmese the Bible in their own language. He devoted to this work no small part of his time and strength for nearly thirty years. He made himself as familiar as possible with the Burmese literature, and with the terse idiomatic expres- sions which are used in conversation by the common people. He read the Scriptures in the original languages, and, sur- rounded by the ablest commentaries of the age, translated directly from the Hebrew and Greek into the Burman. At Rangoon, and, we believe, at Maulmain, he had a retired chamber or garret, to be reached only by means of a ladder, where he devoted himself to this great work in a spirit and under circumstances which remind us of Martin Luther in his Patmos at Wartburg, dwelling amid the sublime visions of prophets and apostles, and laboring to make them familiar to the common people in their native tongue. An English trav- eller, who visited his study in 1830, say~: We entered a large, low room through a space like a trap-door. The beams of the roof were uncovered. The furniture consisted of a table in the centre of the room, a few stools, and a desk, with writings and books neatly arranged on one side He dwelt with much pleasure on the translation of the Bible into the Burman language. He had completed the New Testament, and was then as far as the Psalms in the Old Testament, which having finished, he said he trusted it would be the will of his Heavenly Father to call him to his ever- lasting home As we were conversing, the bats, which frequent the houses at Rangoon, began to take their evening round, and whirled closer and closer, till they came in almost disagreeable contact with our heads; and the flap of the heavy wings so near us interrupting the conversation, we at length reluctantly took leave and departed. And this, thought I, as I descended the dark ladder, is the solitary abode of Judson, whom after ages shall designate, most justly, the great and good. First, he published the Gospel of Matthew, then, separately~ other small portions of the Bible. At length, January 31, 56 WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. [Jan. 1834, he wrote: Thanks be to God, I can now say I have attained. I have knelt down before him with the last leaf in my hand, and, imploring his forgiveness for all the sins which have polluted my labors in this department, and his aid in future efforts to remove the errors and imperfections which necessarily cleave to the work, I have commended it to his mercy and grace; I have dedicated it to his glory. He still, however, continued to labor upon it, and nearly seven years later, December 25, 1840, when a new edition was published, he wrote : I have bestowed more time and labor on the revision than on the first translation of the work, and more, perhaps, than is proportionate to the actual improvement made. Long and toilsome research among the Biblical critics and commentators, especially the German, was frequently requisite to satisfy my mind that my first position was the right one. Considerable improvement, however, has been made, I trust, both in point of style and approximation to the real meaning of the original. But the bean ideal of translation, so far as it concerns the poetical and prophetical books of the Old Testament, I profess not to have attained. If I live many years, of which I have no expectation, I shall have to bestow much more labor upon those books. With the New Testament I am rather better satisfied, and the testimony of those acquainted with the language is rather encouraging. At least, I hope that I have laid a good foundation for my successors to build upon. Vol. II. p. 160. The translation thus happily finished is acknowledged by competent authorities to be the best translation of the Scrip- tures that has ever been made into any one of the Eastern languages. One great purpose of Dr. Judsons life was thus accom- plished. Another wish, even dearer to his heart, had also been fulfilled, which was, that he might be the pastor of a church of a hundred native converts. Long since, the church in Maulmain had exceeded what he had dared to ask in his early prayers. In 1849, it contained a hundred and fifty Bur- man members, and the Karen church in the same place had two thirds as many. But he still had his trials. His health had begun seriously to decline as early as 1841, and he never after was able to use his voice as he had done before. In 1845, his wife, whose 1854.] WAYLANDS LIFE OF DR. JTJDSON. 57 health had long been failing, was reduced to such a state, that nothing, it was thought, but a long voyage, could benefit her. He accompanied her to the Isle of France, where at first she was so much improved that he concluded to return to Bur- mah, and let her come to this country without him. But an unfavorable change soon took place. They left for the United States; but the day they reached St. Helena, September 1, 1845, she died, leaving him and his motherless children to continue their voyage. A biographical account of Mrs. Judson has been written, by Mrs. Emily C. Judsou; and though we should prefer greater simplicity of style in the memoir of a modest, devout, single-hearted woman like her, it is neverthe- less one of the most interesting books of the kind that we have any knowledge of. Dr. Judson arrived at Boston on the 15th of October. He was everywhere received with great favor. Though it was known that he could hardly speak at all in public, crowds gathered wherever it was given out that he was to be present at a public meeting. Congratulatory addresses were made, which were briefly responded to by him, often through the voice of another. But the good man had no taste for this sort of notoriety. He shrunk from it with a sort of nervous dread. It seemed to him inconsistent with a true humility to allow himself to be made the object of so much adulation. Our rough winds renewed the disease in his throat, and even slight attempts at public speaking aggravated the difficulty. I dread the meeting this evening, he wrote, but as it has been appointed, I suppose I must attend. My chief object in writing is to beg that I may be excused from attending any more such meetings, un- til I get better If I could spend the next Sabbath alone in some chamber, I should feel it a great privilege, both as a refreshment to the soul and a relief to the body. Of his humility, says Dr. Wayland, no one who observed the tone of his religious sentiments could entertain a doubt. He was my guest during his brief visit to Providence; and conducted family worship on the evening after a meeting to welcome his return had been held in the First Baptist Church. His prayer on that occasion can never be forgotten by those who heard it. So lowly abasement in the presence of unspotted holiness, such earnest pleadings for pardon for 58 WAYLANDS LIFE OF DR. JTJDSON. [Jan. the imperfection of those services for which men praised him, so utter renunciation of all merit for any thing that he had ever done, and so entire reliance for acceptance with God only on the merits and atone- ment of the Gospel sacrifice for sin, I think it was never my happiness to hear on any other occasion. Such, I believe, was the habitual temper of his mind, that the more his brethren were disposed to exalt him, the more deeply did he seem to feel his own deficiencies, and the more humble was his prostration at the foot of the cross. Vol. II. pp. 214, 215. But amid all these flattering attentions, it was plain that his heart was in Burmah, and that he longed to be once more in the midst of his labors. On the 2d of June, 1846, he was married to Miss Emily Chubbuck, better known in the literary world as Fanny Forester; on the 11th of July, they sailed from Boston, and on the 27th of November, he writes: The wide expanse of the ocean is again crossed; the Maulmain mountains loom in the distant horizon; the Kyaik-a-mee pagoda indicates the promontory of Amherst; and now, on the green bank beyond, I discern, with a tele- scope, the small inclosure which contains the sleeping-place of my dear Ann and her daughter Maria. Like my missionary associates, the members of my own family are scattered far and wide; for the mounds that mark their graves stud the burial- places of Rangoon, Amherst, Maulmain, Serampore, and St. Helena. The work which was to occupy his time mostly for the rest of his life, an English-Burman and Burman- English Dictionary, was a work requiring immense labor and for which he had little taste. Its great importance, and the fact that he was the only person living who was fitted to pre- pare it, reconciled him to the otherwise uncongenial task. On arriving at Maulmain, he found the churches in good condition, and all the departments well supplied, while in Rangoon, and indeed in all Burmah proper, there was not a single missionary. For this reason he determined to remove with his family to Rangoon, though, as he said, it was harder to leave Maulmain for Rangoon, than to leave Boston for Maulmain. But he could prepare his Dictionary there as well as at Maulmain, and perhaps, at the same time, do some- thing to extend the knowledge of Christianity, though the 1854.] WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. 59 system of religious intolerance was never before so rigidly enforced. He hired the upper story of a large, dreary, prison- like house, for three hundred dollars a year, where he found more company than he had bargained for. We have had, he says, March 2d, 1847, a grand bat hunt yester- day and to-day, bagged two hundred and fifty, and calculate to make up a round thousand before we have done. We find that, in hiring the upper story of this den, we secured the lower moiety only, the upper moiety thereof being preoccupied by a thriving colony of vagabonds, who flare up through the night with a vengeance, and the sound of their wings is as the sound of many waters, yea, as the sound of your boasted Yankee Niagara; so that sleep departs from our eyes, and slumber from our eyelids. Vol. II. p. 280. Just at this time, a fire at Maulmain consumed their most valuable goods, which they had left there as in a safer place than Rangoon. These personal losses, however, though subject- ing them to great inconveniences, were easy to bear. But there were other trials far more severe. The acting governor was a ferocious, bloodthirsty monster, and, his suspicions being ex- cited, he had given orders that the missionary-house should be watched, and any natives who might visit it be apprehended. This broke up the religious meetings which had been held there. I feel the blow most deeply, said Dr. Judson, for I had just succeeded in reorganizing a little church, out of old materials and some lately baptized, amounting in number to eleven, nearly all pure Bur- mans; and last Sunday I had an assembly of above twenty. Several new ones were expected to-day, and two would probably have been baptized. I had become so attached to the little church and assembly, and so glad on every returning Lords day to lay aside my tedious Dictionary labors, and spend all the day in obtaining and communicating spiritual refreshment, that the present interruption seems almost too hard to bear. However, I hope to do something yet, in private, to aid a few perishing souls, who are struggling, through darkness and terror, to fiud a way of escape from the more dread darkness and terror of eternal death. Vol. II. p. 289. He proposed now to ask permission from the emperor to continue his missionary labors, and had got leave from the governor at Rangoon to visit Ava for that purpose. But when 60 WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. [Jan. he was most sanguine in his hopes, orders came from this country that the expenses of the mission must be reduced, and he was obliged, not only to give up the visit to Ava, but to leave Rangoon and withdraw to Maulmain. This was the severest trial of all; for it came from his friends, and for a little while seemed almost more than he could bear. There was, says his widow, additional bitterness in the manner of his disappointment, and in the hands from which it came. I thought they loved me, he would say, mournfully, and they would scarcely have known it if I had died. All through our troubles, I was com- forted with the thought that my brethren in Maulmain and in America were praying for us, and they have never once thought of us. At other times, he would draw startling pictures of missionaries abandoning the spirit of their mission, and sacrificing every thing to some darling project; and at others, he would talk hopelessly of the impulsive nature of the home movements, and then pray, in a voice of agony, that these sins of the children of God might not be visited on the heathen. This was an unnatural state of excitement, for him, peculiarly unnatural, and he was not long in recovering from it. He very soon began to devise apologies for every body, and said we must remember that, so far as we were concerned, or the missionary cause itself, God had done this thing, and done it, as he always does, for good. Vol. II. pp. 302, 303. Dr. Judsons private letters were never more playful and easy than during the short period of life that now remained. His affections, if not stronger, seemed to become more gentle, and his sympathies more genial than ever. Without losing any thing of his devotedness to the cause in which his life had been spent, his personal feelings towards his children, his sister, and his many friends, old and new, seemed to flow out with a peculiar tenderness. But the end was at hand. A violent cold in November, 1849, was followed by a fever, from which the now aged mis- sionary never fully recovered. A voyage was recommended, as the only thing which gave any promise of improved health. He embarked for the Isle of France on the 3d of April, was detained in the vessel several days before she put to sea, and, after great sufferings, died on the 12th of April, 1850. A sin- gle extract from a letter of Mrs. Judson to his sister will show with what feelings he looked forward to the change. 1854.] WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. 61 It is the opinion of most of the mission, I remarked, that you will not recover. I know it is, he replied; and I suppose they think me an old man, and imagine it is nothing for one like me to resign a life so full of trials. But I am not old, at least in that sense; you know I am not. 0, no man ever left this world, with more inviting prospects, with brighter hopes or warmer feelings, warmer feelings, he re- peated, and burst into tears. His face was perfectly placid, even while the tears broke away from the closed lids, and rolled, one after another, down to the pillow. There was no trace of agitation or pain in his manner of weeping, but it was evidently the result of acute sensibilities, combined with great physical weakness. To some suggestions which I ventured to make, he replied, It is not that, I know all that, and feel it in my inmost heart. Lying here on my bed, when I could not talk, I have had such views of the loving condescension of Christ, and the glories of heaven, as I believe are seldom granted to mortal man. It is not because I shrink from death that I wish to live, neither is it because the ties that bind me here, though some of them are very sweet, bear any comparison with the drawings I at times feel towards l?eaven; but a few years would not be missed from my eternity of bliss, and I can well afford to spare them, both for your sake and for the sake of the poor Burmans. I am not tired of my work, neither am I tired of the world; yet when Christ calls me home, I shall go with the gladness of a boy bounding away from his school. Perhaps I feel something like the young bride, when she contemplates resigning the pleasant associa- tions of her childhood for a yet dearer home, though only a very lit- tle like her, for there is no doubt resting on my future. Then death would not take you by surprise, I remarked, if it should come even before you could get on board ship? 0 no, he said, death will never take me by surprise, do not be afraid of that, I feel so strong i~ Christ. He has not led me so tenderly thus far, to forsake me at the very gate of heaven. No, no; I am willing to live a few years longer, if it should be so ordered; and if otherwise, I am willing and glad to die now. I leave myself entirely in the hands of God, to be disposed of according to his holy will. Vol. II. pp. 34~, 346. We have thus gone rapidly over the life of this modern apostle, dwelling only on those acts and events which seemed to us most characteristic of the man and his work. No one, we think, can doubt either his sincerity or the signal ability with which he gave himself to the greatest Christian enter- prise of our day. His success, though slow, and, even at the end of forty years, bearing no proportion to what remains unac VOL. LXXVIII.NO. 162. 6 62 WAYLAND $ LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. [Jan. complished, went nevertheless beyond his early hopes, and to his keen eye and undoubting faith gave an assurance of the final ascendency of our religion among the nations. We live, he said, in wonderful times. Every revolution among the kingdoms of the earth seems to be designed to prepare the way for the universal establishment of the kingdom of Christ. There are two conditions of society peculiarly favorable to the introduction of Christianity. One is that of entirely un- cultivated tribes, without the vices of civilization and with only the rudest and most embryotic ideas of religion. Such was the state of the Sandwich Islanders, the Greenlanders, the Karens, and other barbarous tribes, who have readily em- braced Christianity, and need only the culture of successive generations to be trained up as Christian nations. The other condition favorable to the introduction of Christianity is that of an effete civilization, where the people have outgrown the established religion, and, no longer restrained either by its articles of faith or its precepts of moral duty, are giving them- selves up to infidelity, and the general licentiousness of thought and life consequent on such a state of religious opinion. This was the condition of the Roman empire in the time of Jesus and his Apostles, and it is to a great extent the condition of the Burman and Chinese empires now, where, notwithstanding the influences of religious caste and of a powerful and thor- oughly organized priesthood, the old superstitions are crum- bling to dust, and leaving the way open for the advent of a new and living faith. The measures now in progress may seem wholly inadequate to the work. But they are not more inadequate than those by which the nations of Europe were evangelized. A few zeal- ous men, with none of the implements most in repute among the wise and powerful of the world, went, unobserved, through the whole extent of the Roman empire, making their converts mostly among those who had no influence in the schools of philosophy or the councils of state, and when, after a century or two, the jealous eye of the magistrate was turned upon them, and the attempt was made to cut them off by persecu- tion, the rulers and the philosophers found, to their astonish- 1854.] WAYLAND S LIFE OF flit. JUDSON. 63 ment and consternation, that this could be done only by depopulating cities and provinces, and robbing the empire of its strength. The national temples were deserted, or nominal worshippers were drawn to the altars by their reverence for the memory of their fathers, and through the influence of early associations. But the vitality of their faith was gone. The sacred places were disenchanted, and, though the fanes and images remained, the divinities themselves had departed. The oracles are dumb, No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof; in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Deiphos leaving. No nightly trance, or hreath~d spell, Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell. This, so far as we can learn, is very much the present state of things among the independent nations of Asia. Buddhism and Braminism have lost their old enchantment, and have assumed forms which in their logical results are hardly to be distinguished from atheism. The existing governments, whose interest it has been to uphold the established religion, are known only by their oppressions and extortions, and have lost all hold on the affections of the people. The Memoir of Dr. Judson confirms us in the Qpinion expressed by Sir James Mackintosh forty years ago, after a residence of eight years in India, that any European government, however corrupt, that could be exercised over the inhabitants of the East, must be a relief from the cruelties and exactions to which they are now subjected, and the corruption which everywhere prevails. And not only the governments which seek to uphold the an- cient faith, but the religious institutions which go deeper than any political authority, shrink back from before the active intelligence and enterprise of the West, which are every year making their way f rther into the East. They who come most in contact with Western habits of thought gradually lose their respect for forms of worship which they have been accus- tomed to revere. Hence the national faith is gradually under- mined. The most enlightened thinkers, on the one hand, and the most efficient business men, on the other, become sceptics 64 WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. [Jan. or atheists; and this subi~le unbelief, when once it begins to take possession of the leading minds of a people, prevails far more extensively than can be inferred from any thing that ap- pears upon the surface. But nations like these, with their hundreds of millions of souls, must have some religion. Christianity has already found its way among them, and been hospitably received by many thousands. Its sacred books, statements of its leading doctrines, short but power- fully written tracts, enforcing its claims and challenging com- parison with the prevailing forms of belief, are circulated everywhere. Its missionaries are traversing forests and moun- tains, and, with the help of native assistants, carrying it back into retired villages, while the remote jungles echo with the sound of Christian hymns and prayers. Wars, so full of misery and so hostile to the spirit of our religion, have thus far greatly aided the missionaries in their work; and revolu- tions, like that now going on in China, lay open new fields for the advance of soldiers who, armed with no mortal weapons, go forth to conquests more thorough and more enduring than those of Carlovingian or Tartar dynasties. It is not the work of a day or of a single generation, but of centuries, that is now begun. And if much of barbarism still clings to those who adopt our faith, we have only to go back a thousand years to the savage tribes from whom we and the most enlightened of European nations are descended, to see how slow the Christian religion then was in subduing the characters and moulding the manners and habits of those who professed to receive it. If forty years have done so little, we must remember how many centuries had passed before the religion of the cross was allowed to seat itself on the imperial throne at Rome or Byzantium, and how severe the struggle was between the new religion and the old, even after the days of Constantine. We look forward, therefore, with great hope, to the pros- pects of the missionary enterprise in the East. And in all its future triumphs, the name of the brave, single-hearted pioneer, whose life we have endeavored to sketch, will be mentioned with honor. There may be something of the amiable exaggeration of private friendship and personal ad- 1854.] WAYLAND S LIFE OF DR. JUDSON. 65 miration in the words of Dr. Wayland, when he says, God has given him a name which is spoken with affectionate rever- ence by every household in Christendom. But there is truth as well as eloquence in the far higher eulogium that fol- lOX\T5. He asked that he might redeem a few immortal souls from eternal death, and it was granted to him to lay the foundations of Christian civil- ization for an empire. When the kingdoms of the world shall become the kingdoms of the Lord and of his Christ; when every pagoda shall have been levelled, and every hill-top, from the Bay of Bengal to the foot of the Himalaya, shall be crowned with a temple to Jehovah; when the landscape shall be thickly studded with schools, scattering broadcast the seeds of human knowledge; when law shall have spread the shield of its protection over the most lowly and the most exalted; when civil and religious liberty shall be the birthright of every Bur- man, then will the spot where stood the prison at Oung-pen-la be consecrated ground; thither will pilgrims resort to do honor to the name of their benefactor; and mothers, as they teach their children to pray to the eternal God, will remind them of the atheism of their fore- fathers, and repeat to them the story of the life and labors of Adoni- ram Judson. Vol. II. pp. 403, 404. We have been too much taken up with the subject of Dr. Waylands book to say much of the book itself, and that is perhaps the highest commendation that can be bestowed on a work of this kind. It is, indeed, of a character to disarm criticism. It places before us, in the simplest form, the life and labors of a man devoted, heart and soul, to a single un- dertaking. The enlarged portrait, like the miniature picture that we have drawn from it, is, as we have said, profoundly serious, and enlivened by few of those touches of grace and humor which lend a charm to the lighter departments of litera- ture. Bnt all the private letters of Dr. Judson till he had entered on the last portion of his life had been desfroyed, and there were few materials left for his biographer beyond the half-official communications which he transmitted from time to time to the missionary society by which he was employed. And besides, a man situated as he was, going through such an experience and actuated by such motives, cannot leave materials for a biography which shall serve to amuse an idle 6* 66 WAYLANDS LIFR OF DR. JUDSON. [Jan. hour. He was too intensely in earnest for that. He was, however, richly endowed in all those kindly elements which give a charm to domestic life. Though heavy and repeated sorrows crossed his threshold, he was singularly blessed in his private relations, and the notices that we have here of his two wives are full of affecting interest and instruction. As a work for the religious community, especially for those interested in missions, and most especially for Baptists, the Memoir is admirably prepared. To them the fulness of detail, drawn from Dr. Judsons journals, which may in some cases weary the general reader, will greatly add to the value of the book, which is throughout catholic in its tone, and pervaded by the widest charity, as well as the most enlightened wis- dom. Dr. Waylands own remarks, which are few, are always to the point, and such as we should expect from a man of his enlarged thought, his earnest religious spirit, and high Chris- tian culture. There is nowhere, either in his language or in that of Dr. Judson, any approach to cant, that bane of relig- ious writings, and especially of religious biography. In this respect, it contrasts most honorably with the reports which usually proceed from religious bodies, as any one may see, who, after reading it, takes up, as we did, the Thirty-ninth Annual Report of the American Baptist Missionary Union. It contains a history of what has been done by the mission- aries in Burmah, yet with so much skill as not materially to interfere with the unity or interest of the personal narrative, except perhaps in one or two of the earlier chapters, partic- ularly the third and fourth. The style is grave, as befits the subject, but not dull, and, without any attempt at fine writ- ing, rises, wherever the occasion calls for it, into passages of great beauty. 1854.1 M. GIRONI~RE AND THE PHILIPPINE ISLANDS. 67 ART. III. Vingt Annees aux Philippines: Souvenirs de Jala- fala. Par P. DE LA GIRONIERE, Chevalier de la Legion dHonnenr. Paris: Comptoir des Imprimeurs Unis. 1853. Svo. pp. 339. O~ all the bright colonial gems which three hundred years ago studded the diadem of Spanish empire, and gave to the Peninsular kings the haughty title of Lords of both the Indias, there remain to-day but two of the fairest lustre; Cuba in the West and the Philippine Islands in the Eastern seas. And at this moment, when our national relations with the court of the Escurial are daily assuming a deeper interest, and mens thonghts are more and more turning upon the condition and probable destinies of that colony whose coasts are fanned by the gales from our southern shores, a few observations upon its widely parted sister may not be devoid of interest. The archipelago comprehending the Philippine Isles is formed by the waters of the Sooloo and Mindoro Seas, and lies off the coasts of China and the whilome Burmese Empire. To the northeast stretches the broad expanse of the grand Northern Ocean; while the majestic islands of Borneo, Java, and Sumatra spread between it and the Indian Ocean. The number of separate isles in the Philippine group it is not pos- sible to state with any certainty; some writers place them as high as twelve hundred, but this estimate we believe to be greatly exaggerated, and not less incorrect than many other statements gravely put forth in this regard. Their latitude is about 6o~18o N.; their longitude about 118~ 1280 E. We speak cautiously on this point, for the authorities are diverse and conflicting. Their population is estimated at about three millions and a half, all of whom, save perhaps a quarter of a million, are natives. The balance is made up of Mestizos, Chinese, and Europeans. Such a country may well be deemed an empire in itself, and the day may come when its shores shall afford as useful and as fortunate a refuge for the royalty of Spain, as those of Brazil have proved to the house of Bragauza. Let us now glance briefly at their history.

1854.1 M. GIRONI~RE AND THE PHILIPPINE ISLANDS. 67 ART. III. Vingt Annees aux Philippines: Souvenirs de Jala- fala. Par P. DE LA GIRONIERE, Chevalier de la Legion dHonnenr. Paris: Comptoir des Imprimeurs Unis. 1853. Svo. pp. 339. O~ all the bright colonial gems which three hundred years ago studded the diadem of Spanish empire, and gave to the Peninsular kings the haughty title of Lords of both the Indias, there remain to-day but two of the fairest lustre; Cuba in the West and the Philippine Islands in the Eastern seas. And at this moment, when our national relations with the court of the Escurial are daily assuming a deeper interest, and mens thonghts are more and more turning upon the condition and probable destinies of that colony whose coasts are fanned by the gales from our southern shores, a few observations upon its widely parted sister may not be devoid of interest. The archipelago comprehending the Philippine Isles is formed by the waters of the Sooloo and Mindoro Seas, and lies off the coasts of China and the whilome Burmese Empire. To the northeast stretches the broad expanse of the grand Northern Ocean; while the majestic islands of Borneo, Java, and Sumatra spread between it and the Indian Ocean. The number of separate isles in the Philippine group it is not pos- sible to state with any certainty; some writers place them as high as twelve hundred, but this estimate we believe to be greatly exaggerated, and not less incorrect than many other statements gravely put forth in this regard. Their latitude is about 6o~18o N.; their longitude about 118~ 1280 E. We speak cautiously on this point, for the authorities are diverse and conflicting. Their population is estimated at about three millions and a half, all of whom, save perhaps a quarter of a million, are natives. The balance is made up of Mestizos, Chinese, and Europeans. Such a country may well be deemed an empire in itself, and the day may come when its shores shall afford as useful and as fortunate a refuge for the royalty of Spain, as those of Brazil have proved to the house of Bragauza. Let us now glance briefly at their history. 68 M. GIRONIERE AND THE PHILIPPINE ISLANDS. [Jan. On the 10th day of August, 1519, Hernan de Magellan, with a squadron of five vessels and an armament of two hun- dred and thirty-four men, left the port of Seville; on the 7th of September, 1522, the Vittoria, commanded by Sebastian Cano, with nineteen souls on board, cast anchor in the port of San Lncar, at the mouth of the Guadalquivir. Of all that gallant little fleet, these were the sole survivors. Magellan himself Juan de Serrano, his second in command, and the vast majority of his crews, had succumbed to the perils of the voyage. Of the vessels, the San Jago had foundered at sea, the Concepcion had been abandoned, the San Antonio had gone astray, the Trinidad, the admirals own vessel, had been captured by the Portuguese. The Vittoria alone, with Sebas- tian Cano on her quarter-deck, returned to claim the proud distinction of being the first keel which, doubling the southern extremities of both hemispheres, had fairly circumnavigated the globe. Don Sebastian was well rewarded with honors and with gifts at the hands of his sovereign; but Magellan, whose mind had planned this glorious enterprise, and whose flag had ever led the way to new adventures and perilous dis- coveries, was mouldering the while into dust, with an Indian arrow through his heart, beneath the palm-trees of Mactan. We shall not pause to recapitulate the earlier events of Magellans voyage on the coasts of South America, or through the Straits which have immortalized his name. Plunging boldly into the waters of the Pacific Ocean, whose waves had never before been broken by a Christian keel, the Trinidad, favored by prosperous gales, arrived at the island of Mm- danao, the southernmost and the second in size of the clnster. The day was that sacred in the Church of Rome to the honor of the Almighty God; and in his name, and in that of the king, the voyagers master, Magellan planted a cross upon the shores of the newly discovered country, and claimed possession of it for Charles V. Then, boldly penetrating into the midst of the numberless lesser islands that intervene between Mm- danao and the great isle of Luzon or Lu~onia at the north, he speedily arrived at the island of Zebu, which was destined to limit his voyage. Throngs of naked savages, their bodies gayly painted and adorned with glittering bracelets and rudely 1854.] M. GIRONThRE AND THE PHILIPPINE ISLANDS. 69 carved stones, and armed only with bows and long daggers, greeted their approach. Their king without reluctance hailed the Spaniards as his friends, and consented to the immediate baptism of his entire people. The reader may conceive with what dreams of pious delight this sudden conversion filled the enthusiastic soul of the hardy navigator; what visions of con- quest and of fame played before his dazzled imagination! But another lot was marked out for him; and its fulfilment was already at hand. Close on the eastern coast of Zebu lies a petty island by the name of Mactan, with whose sovereign Magellan became embroiled. A combat ensued, in which the Spaniards, entan- gled in a morass, could display only a hardy, but ineffectual prowess. With difficulty a portion of his soldiers escaped, leaving their commander dead on the field of battle. Nor was this the only ill result of their defeat. The people of Zebu, wearying of their new friends and unwonted faith, determined on ridding themselves of both. Their. king, Hamabar, pre- pared a banquet so treacherously, that Juan de Serrano (who had succeeded to Magellans post) and more than a score of his comrades were barbarously murdered in full view of their companions on board. Abandoning all present hope of pre- vailing, with their diminished force, against enemies at once so guileful and so brave, the dismayed Spaniards forthwith weighed their anchors and made all haste to depart from these fatal scenes. Pausing awhile at Tidor to recruit their stores, the scanty remnant of the adventurous band made the best of their way back to their familiar anchorage in the Guadal- quivir. Such was the first discovery of the Isles of Penant, as they were then styled. It was fifty years before the ambitious soul of Philip II. caused them to receive his name and yoke at the same time, and to become an integral portion of the Spanish kingdom. In February, 1565, two vessels, under the command of Lope de L6gapsi, which Philip had caused to be despatched from Mexico, once more displayed the flag of Cas- tile in those seas. This time, the first land made by the voy- agers was that of Bohol, an island placed between Mindanao and Zebu. The inoffensive inhabitants gave to Ugapsi a 70 M. GIRONI#iRE AND TILE PhILIPPINE ISLANDS. [Jan. kindly reception, and were well treated in return; but the soul of the Spaniard burned to revenge the injuries done to Magel- lan by the false king of Zebn. Tupas, the then king of that nation, was formally advised, through the natives of Bohol, of the causes of the vengeance now to be inflicted on his town and subjects; and in a short time, the savage monarch was forced to sue for peace, and to accept the terms proposed by the conqueror. A fort was established on the shore, and whilst the Capitana or admirals ship was dismissed to Mex- ico for reinforcements, the remaining Spaniards proceeded to establish themselves more firmly in power. One hundred and fifty leagues to the north of Zebu lies the great isle of Luzon, the conquest of which was already decided upon by the bold L~gapsi. The coup dessai was not unsuccessful; but it was not until the following year, when a supply of nearly three hundred additional soldiers arrived from Mexico, that the rajahs of that portion of Luzon where Manilla now stands were compelled to receive a new king and a new God. It was at this epoch, too, that the whole group received the name of the Philippines. A form of government was forthwith established, and the city of Manilla began to increase in size and importance daily. The numerous priests who flocked in the train of conquest succeeded to a wonder in converting the natives from their am ient faith. It is true, that, like the Jes- uits in China, they suffered so many remnants of Paganism to find their way into the new ritual, that one might almost doubt whether the modern was other than a mere adaptation of the earlier worship; but the great truths of religion were ta~ ght, and, on the whole, the system does not work ill. The acquisition so easily made has been almost as easily preserved to the crown of Spain. The colonial system of that nation, so depraved in other parts of the world, is here mild and paternal, and well adapted to the dispositions of the inhabitants. Over those who are de facto subject thereto, the monks exercise an unbounded influence, even to the extent of openly and successfully resisting, on more than one emer- gency, the utmost exertion of the civil power. These dissen~ sions, however, have never arrived at a release from the domi- nation of Madrid. On three occasions only has that domi 1854.] M. GIRONI~RE AND THE PHILIPPINE ISLANDS. 71 nation undergone a shock, and these we will briefly notice. The first was of so ancient a date as 1574, when a Chinese pirate named Limahon, at the head of a large fleet of junks, bearing several thousand of his followers, male and female, being driven from his former quarters by the Brother of the Sun and Moon, resolved to extirpate the Spaniards and seat himself at Manilla. It was not without a desperate struggle that this hardy adventurer was repulsed, leaving a sufficient number of his conquered followers on the shore to give a de- cided tinge to the complexion and traits of a large portion of the present native population. After this event, the colony enjoyed peace for nearly a century; when, in September, 1762, an English fleet presented itself before Manilla, and the town was captured by Sir William Draper, who put it at a ransom of nearly $4,000,000, a sum quadruple the amount that could be raised. The readers of the Letters of Junius will remember this affair. To the great discontent of the In- dians, who hated the English not less as enemies to Spain than as heretics to the Church, and omitted no opportunity of wreaking their vengeance by assassination, the city was held for two years by its conquerors, till, by the terms of the peace made between Spain and Great Britain, the latter sur- rendered its conquest, and on the 17th of March, 1764, the Spaniards and Indians with great pomp and joy repossessed themselves of the city. The third and last time that the local government was endangered was so late as 1823, when Nova- las, a Creole by birth, and holding a captains commission in the army of Spain, set on foot a revolution with the declared aim of obtaining more liberal institutions for the Philippines. The insurrection was entirely confined to the city of Ma- nilla, and was chiefly shared in by the Creole population; that is, persons of European blood, pure or mixed, but born in Luzon. It was speedily suppressed by the troops of Old Spain and their faithful allies, the native Indians. The career of Novah~s was a short one; at day-dawn he had been pro- claimed Emperor, at sunset he was executed. Seventeen of the ringleaders shared his fate, and tranquillity was thence- forward restored to Manilla. Luzon, the northernmost and the largest of the Philippines, 72 M. GIRONII~RE AND THE PHILIPPINE ISLANDS. [Jan. is the oniy one of these islands which we propose to notice in the remainder of this paper: the others being comparatively unknown, and, with the exception Df Mindanao, unimportant; and, indeed, the only use to which the Spaniards put this latter island is to employ a small district, called Samboan- gan, as a penal colony. Luzon itself is but in part known to the people who have claimed to rule it for above three hundred years. This island, extending from north to south for upwards of four hundred miles, possesses a very unequal width, never more than one hundred and fifty, and at its southern extrem- ity passing away into a long peninsula scarce more than twenty-five, miles wide. In the southern part of the main body of the island is placed the great Lake of Bay. North- ward of this sheet of water commences a mountain-chain branching into two ranges, one of which pursues the eastern, the other the western coast, until they reach the northern ex- tremity of Luzon. Through the valley between these two chains, the great river Tajo, with a width very disproportioned to its length, flows rapidly to the sea. Considering the lati- tude of the island, its climate is very temperate; the moist atmosphere, the immense forests that stretch through the in- terior, and the mountainous character of the region, doubtless tend to weaken the fervor of a tropic sun. The soil is abun- dantly fertile, producing freely all kinds of spices and tropi- cal fruits and plants, and furnishing abundant nurture to immense herds of cattle. It is not unusual for a planter to possess five or six thousand head of cows, buffaloes, and horses; and some idea of the vegetable wealth of those vir- gin forests may be derived from the reflection that they pro- duce no less than forty differeftt kinds of palms, all of them valuable to man. There are three plants especially, that flourish in these regions to an extent and perfection hardly known elsewhere, and which, in the contemplation of the variety of useful purposes that they serve, are worthy of a more detailed notice than we can here give them; we allude to the bamboo, the banana, and the cocoa palm. The first not only affords to the native the material for his dwell- ing, his fences, his weapons o war or the chase, but is em- 1854.] M. GJRONftRE AND THE PHILIPPINE ISLANDS. 73 ployed for almost every description of domestic utensil, even to the vessels in which to carry water or to cook his food. The second produces a rich abundance of nutritious and agree- able food, and bears abundantly throughout the year, while its filaments yield a thread that is woven into a fine cloth. The last is celebrated the world over for the manifold purposes to which it can be turned; its fruit furnishes food, and from its juice is distilled an intoxicating wine highly valued by the savages. Household utensils are prepared from the shells of its nut, and sail-cloth and wearing-apparel from its bark. In short, the bountiful hand of Nature was never less sparing of its benefits than in this beautiful clime. It was to this country, then, that, about the year 1819, Monsieur Paul de la Gironiere repaired, apparently in the hope of making his fortune; and finding occasion to em- bark in the career of a physician, he took unto himself a wife, and settled down under the Spanish r4gime. M. Paul or rather IDon Pablo, as he was styled in that land tells us at the outset that he was born at Nantes; but really, from the marvellous fiert~ of his tone, and the feats of personal daring performed by himself that he relates with so much naivete, we should have fancied him to have been born on the banks of the Adour rather than of the Loire; to be a native of Gascony rather than Brittany. In the course of time, he obtained possession of the domain of Jala-Jala, a peninsula stretching out into the Lake of Bay from its northern shore; and there, for many years, pursued a life in every respect to his taste, uniting to the avocations of an extensive planter of rice, indigo, coffee, sugar-cane, and tobacco, the occasional divertissements of fighting buffaloes, boars, and boa-constric- tors, or acting at the head of the gendarmerie, a rural police of the district, pursuing and combating robbers and bandits. Although the country was quite wild and unsettled when he first took possession of his new domain, a flourishing village, with its church, cemetery, government-house, and all, soon sprang up around him, much to the disgust of the unsettled or outlawed inhabitants of those hitherto unexplored fastnesses. Many of these troublesome neighbors were persons who had fled, for some slight peccadillo, from the reach of the laws, voL. Lxxviii. NO. 162. 7 74 M. GIR0NI~RE AND THE PHILIPPINE ISAINDS. [Jan. and these, by the judicious treatment of Don Pablo, were easily reclaimed. But there were many others, fierce and un- tamable robbers, with whom he was doomed to have a long and bloody series of encounters. The description of some of these combats, in which our hero received a full share of horn. orable wounds, is full of interest. Nor are his accounts of his adventures in the chase of the brute creation (a pastime to which he seems peculiarly attached) less devoid of merit and picturesqueness. The curious reader will be amply grati- fied by turning over his pages in quest of passages which we regret our limits will not allow us to give here. Perhaps the most dangerous and dreaded animal in Luzon is the ca~man or crocodile. The boa and the buffalo may be avoided; in fact, they themselves desire to shun the approach of civilization; the dalon-palay (rice-leaf) and alin-morani, two small but very venomous snakes, are not apparently of fre- quent occurrence, and cauterization, if instantly applied, will preserve the life of their victim. But the caiman is found by every water-side, until his race is extirpated by the hand of the arch-destroyer, man. Don Pablo gives a very exciting sketch of the capture of one of these monsters, that had just de- voured, not only a poor Indian, but a large horse. A numer- ous concourse of friends and servants assisted on the mem- orable occasion, among whom he cites the name dun Am~ricain, mou ami, H. Russell, de la ~naison de commerce Russell-ct- Sturgis: veritable et bon ami, dont la souvenir bien present ~ ma memoire ne sen effaceralamais. After a tedious battle, the monster was slain and dragged to the shore; and on dissection, he was found to have made but half a dozen mouthfuls of the hapless horse. The caYman, says Don Pablo, swallows his food without chewing it; consequently, there was no difficulty in recognizing the dis]ecta membra of his late repast. The length of this creature was twenty-five feet; his head alone was five feet in length, and weighed four hundred and thirty pounds. The skull, cleansed and prepared, was bestowed by Don Pablo as a cadean upon his friend Mr. Rus- sell, by whom, he adds, it has been presented to the Museum at Boston. The adventurous spirit of Don Pablo was furnished with an 1854.] M. GIRON1~RE AND THE PHILIPPINE ISLANDS. 75 additional means of gratifying its inclinations by the rank as a local magistrate that he held. The chief executive officer of that archipelago, as every body knows who has read Gil Blas, is the Governor or Viceroy, appointed in Spain. The fair Camilla and her ruby will preserve the title of Governor of the Philippine Islands to everlasting remembrance. This officer resides at Manilla, and with the assistance of a hacienda real, or council, has the ultimate control of the whole govern- ment, balanced only by the spiritual powers of the Archbishop, which, however, are but too often felt in temporal affairs. As these isles were originally conquered from the infidel, the power of appointing the Archbishop is vested, we believe, in the king, instead of the Pope; which is, perhaps, one reason why ~hnrch and state united work so well here. Subordinate to the viceroy are the governors of provinces, and these again are the little suns upon which the gobernadorcillos, or chiefs of the villages, depend. These last are chosen in the following manner. The system of taxation established by the govern- ment is purely personal, consisting of a poll-tax of about sixty cents per annum on every Indian, rich or poor. The tax-col- lectors are men selected with great care, and constitute the nobility of the village. They are called, both while in office and ever afterwards, cabezas de baraugay, or collectors of taxes; and they are required annually to nominate three men from their own ranks to the provincial governor, who therefrom selects the gobernadorcillo, or little governor, for the ensuing year. His functions arc very like those of an aicayde of Spain, and do not extend either to civil or criminal cases of the high- est importance, which are remitted for adjudication to the higher authorities. In such a nation as that in which Don Pablo found himself, it will readily be seen how invaluable an aid was the sanction of the civil power to him in his wan- derings. We are indebted to our hardy historian for many curious particulars respecting the habits and customs of the native tribes of Luzon, on whom we may as well say a few words. The aboriginal inhabitants of the Philippines were undoubt- edly the Papuas, or Oriental Negroes, a dwarf variety of the African race. Of a sooty, rather than black, complexion, their 76 M. GIRON1~RE AND THE PHILIPPINE ISLANDS. [Jan. woolly hair growing in scattered tufts upon the head, and even the males never attaining the height of five feet, their physical peculiarities easily distinguish them from their conti- nental brethren. Among these savages the Ajetas as they are styled in Luzon our author made a dangerous but interesting tour, and communicates abundant details of their manners and customs. Dwelling in small tribes of fifty or sixty souls, they derive all their subsistence from the chase, and from the roots and wild fruits of the forest. Their sole garment is a girdle about the waist; their only arms, lances of the bamboo, and poisoned arrows. It is difficult to conceive of a people more deeply sunk in barbarism. Possessing no religion whatever, their burial service, so generally the scene of a dis- play of faith among most savages, is conducted with the most singular sang-froid. The dead body is placed at fnll length in a trench, with some trifling store of tobacco or betel-nut beside it; the bow or lance of the deceased is hung upon a neighboring tree, and the body is left to the action of the elements. The Ajetas vaguely believe that, at nightfall, their lamented brother emerges from his resting-place to hunt game until the return of day. Whenever one of their comrades is too sick to make any violent resistance, he is considered by them as actually dead, and is buried without further ceremony. Our author attempted to recall to the mind of a woman of the Ajetas, who had in childhood dwelt among the Christians, some of the religious lessons she had received in her youth. Ab, replied she, when I dwelt among your brothers, I heard them speak of a Master who dwelt up yonder in the air. But what a lie all that was! See here, quoth she, taking up a small pebble, and casting it upwards; if that little stone is too heavy to remain in the air, how could a great strong man dwell there a moment? To such philosophy as this, Don Pablo wisely thought it idle to offer any further suggestions; and the female theologian bore away all the honors of victory. The Ajetas take but one wife, and are faithful to the mar- riage bed. In fact, there seems very little temptation for them to go astray. Their women are as ugly as so many baboons. They are wonderfully keen and active in the chase, climbing trees with the agility of monkeys, and making their way from 1854.] M. GIRON1~RE AND THE PHILIPPINE ISLANDS. 77 the top of one tree to that of another with a dexterity and swiftness truly wonderful. Thus they are enabled to surprise their prey; for they shoot their poisoned arrows as truly in this position as on terra firma. Our author, on his return to the settlement, had a taste of their quality afforded him. He had managed to steal the skeleton of an old woman from the cemetery of his hosts, with a view of placing it in its pres- ent position in the Musee dAnatomie of Paris, when he was attacked by the kindred of his spoil, and shot in the hand with an envenomed dart. The wound became highly inflamed, and the poison in a few weeks spread through all his veins. All the doctors in Manilla assured him he must die. Accord- ingly, he made every disposition of his worldly affairs; com- mitted the charge of his motherless child to the Consul-General of France, who stood by his bedside; received extreme unction at the hands of the priest, and dismissed all his attendants, who left him, as they thought, in the agonies of approaching dissolution. They were mightily deceived. In short, quoth Don Pablo, I did not wish to die; and by a single effort of my will, the course of nature was thus arrested. The Ajetas, as well as several other nations that we shall presently notice, were long since driven from the southern coasts of Luzon into the distant mountainous interior, not only by the advances of the whites, but even by a pagan invasion before their time. The Tagaloc races, which constitute the chief part of the Indian population that has submitted to the yoke of Spain and Christianity, are of Malay origin, and are the descendants of the rajahs and warriors who ruled the lands they had conquered crc Magellan and his soldiery had yet visited their seas. Of the interior tribes, the chief are the Tinguianes and the Igorrotais: the former, of Japanese origin, were established in the isle before the invasion of the Malays; the latter are the descendants of the Chinese colony which, under Limahon, landed in Luzon after the settlement of Manilla. When the main body of the pirates was repulsed or destroyed, a strong detachment of their band, flying from the approach of the victors, took refuge in the forests, and found a peaceful home in their recesses. The numbers of both of these tribes are not very great; the former are the most intel- 7* 78 M. GIRONIERE AND THE PHILIPPINE ISLANDS. [Jan. ligent, and have some large villages, where, during the day, they dwell in cottages upon the ground, and at nightfall retire to their bed-chambers, built, for protections sake, in the very tops of the loftiest trees. The Tagals, as constituting the legitimate Indian people of Luzon in the popular sense, demand something more than a passing notice. Although thoroughly under the control of the monks, the Tagal character betrays scarcely less marked traits of his Malay origin than does his person. It is a mixture of good and bad qualities, each strongly developed. Credulously superstitious, and faithful to his plighted word, he is, on indif- ferent topics, very apt to lie; burning to punish an injury, he will submit patiently even to blows, when merited by his own faults and administered by lawful authority. He is a good husband, and a good father. Infidelity in a wife is the great- est of offences; unchastity in a daughter, or any unmarried woman, is not in the slightest degree wondered at or thought ill of. The Tagals employments are generally of a menial description; his amusements, the chase, cock-fighting, or gam- bling. The Tagal faith, as we have intimated, is a strange medley of ancient superstitions engrafted upon the ritual of the Church of Rome; not much beyond the mere formularies of Christian worship seems to be generally comprehended~ Two divinities, devoutly believed in from ancient times by the Tagals, still preserve, despite the efforts of the missiona- ries, a powerful influence over their minds. The first of these is the Tic-bala)i, a malign spirit inhabiting certain large fig- trees in the forests, whose powers are nevertheless unavailing against the Tagal who bears a peculiar herb upon his person. The other is a female spirit, called Azuan, who is supposed to make her appearance on the same occasions as Lucina of old among the Latins, but with far less benevolent intentions. The active and affectionate husband, however, perched upon the roof of his dwelling, may prevent the intrusion of this ill- omened goddess. The Tagals who dwell in Manilla have naturally lost many of their original characteristics of mind and body; but the observer who, like Don Pablo, contem- plates them iu the remote rural districts, has an opportunity of noting many strange usages and customs. Their marriage 1854.] M. GIRONII~RE AND THE PHILIPPINE ISLANDS. 79 formula is very curious. When certain indispensable prelim- inaries are gone through, the families of either side meet in grand conclave, to decide upon the dowry the groom is to pay to the brides parents, each party being accompanied by a spokesman, who alone is permitted to talk. Their discourse is generally metaphorical. Don Pablo gives us a specimen. The girls ambassador thus opens the negotiation. A young couple were united in great poverty; they had not even a shed to sleep in. When the wife became the mother of a daughter, an angel appeared to her and said: Reflect on your dowerless mar- riage and your past poverty. I take this infant under my protection, and when she becomes a beautiful girl, sought in marriage by throngs of suitors, give her hand only to him who shall build a temple with ten columns, each column consisting of ten stones. And the angel van- ished. To this the grooms advocate replied : There was a certain queen who reigned in a kingdom by the sea. She made a law that every ship arriving in her ports should anchor only in water of a hundred fathoms in depth, under the penalty of the loss of the captains life; and this law was rigidly enforced. It came to pass that a ship, during stress of weather, was driven into her har- bor. The storm was so violent, that the only chance for the brave cap- tain to save his vessel was to let go the anchor. He did so, and the barque rode out the gale. But alas! he could only do so in water of eighty fathoms. The next day, he was seized and brought before the queen. Throwing himself at her feet, he prayed for mercy; he con- ~essed that an invincible power had so driven shorewards his ship, that the anchor found bottom at eighty fathoms; consequently it was impos- sible for him to anchor in a hundred fathoms, and with tears in his eyes he prayed for pardon. Here he paused: his opponent took up the discourse, and said : The queen, affected by the tale of the brave captain, and perceiv- ing the impossibility of his having cast anchor in a hundred fathoms, freely forgave him, and all was well, At these last words, joy and satisfaction spread over every counte- nance, and were expressed in cries of approbation and bursts of music. The explication of the allegories is very simple. The one party demanded a house of the value of a hundred piastres; the ten columns representing as many rouleaux of ten piastres each: the other side declared its willingness to comply with 80 M. GIRONI~RE AND THE PHILIPPINE ISLANDS. [Jan. this request so far as eighty piastres would go, but protested that was all his wealth, and he could do no more. The modi- fication was accepted by the brides friends, and the union was declared. Before closing this paper, we must not omit to say a few words about Manilla, the chief city of the East Indian isles. Possessing a population of 150,000 souls (of which, however, not more than 15,000 are Spaniards or Creoles, the balance being natives or Chinese), this city is beautifully situated on either side of the river Pasig. On the one shore is placed the city proper, surrounded by high walls and entered by three gates: Puerta Santa Lucia, Puerta Real, and Puerta Partan. Inhabited chiefly by Europeans in the employ of the state, its carefully macadamized streets present but a gloomy aspect compared with the opposite faubourg of Binondoc, with which it is connected by a bridge. Here dwell all the native popu- lation, and here are all the shops, with their gorgeous wares. Numerous canals intersect Binondoc, communicating with the Pasig; and multitudes of boats constantly bear persons or mer- chandise from one point to another, or from the opposite shore. The houses, like all mansions in tropical climates, present no very imposing appearance from without, compared with the luxury and magnificence that often reign within; and indeed, according to M. de la Gironidre, the people of this city appear to lead a life of a singularly easy character. With the men, business may be said to occupy a part of their attention, but pleasure is their chief aim. Intrigue, gambling, cock-fighting, and the more innocent social amusements, fill up their leisure hours. The women many of whom are of great beauty lead a dolce far niente life, caring for nothing under the sun but some sort of languid excitement. Rarely having received any education deserving the name, their only object is to dress superbly, to shine as a star in the ball-room, and to indulge occasionally in an affaire dm cwur. In fine, one may find in Manilla much of the virtues and many of the blemishes of the Spanish character of three centuries ago, mollified and ener- vated by the inevitable effect of a tropical climate. When the trade of this country with the Philippines is con- sidered, and the number of our citizens who yearly dwell for a i8~34.J M. GThONnRE AND THE PHILIPPINE ISLANDS. 81 longer or shorter time in its capital, we are persuaded that the foregoing account xviii not be deemed out of place here. Their annual imports and exports cannot at present be less than eighteen millions of dollars; of which the United States even yet do not have a satisfactory proportion. The annexed table, prepared by the French consul at Manilia for the in- formation of the government at Paris, shows the trade of the islands for the year 1842. Countries. Imports. Exports. Total. England, Francs. Francs. Francs. 7,466,000 5,099,000 12,565,000 United States, 3,154,000 4,772,000 7,926,000 China, 2,694,000 4,422,000 7,116,000 Spain, 893,000 5,323,000 6,216,000 ErlmliSh Indies, 3,137,000 1,404,000 4,541,000 Australia, 480,000 2,546,000 3,026,000 Mexico, 1,886,000 1,886,000 iiii~n Isles, 1,070,000 1,070,000 610,000 610,000 Cape of Good Hope, 188,000 188,000 Belgium, 143,000 46,000 189,000 Sandwich Isles, 126,000 36,000 162,000 Hanse Towns, 40,000 40,000 Total Francs, 22,502,000 24,354,006~ r 46,856,000 Dollars, 4,185,372 4,529,844 8,715,216 It thus appears that, in 1842, England enjoyed nearly one half, and the United States about one sixth part, of the Manilla trade; the proportions at this day, however, are more in our favor. We lay aside M. de la Gironidres volume with regret. It is very pleasantly xvritten and neatly executed, with explanatory plates. We are pleased with the vivacity of the authors style, and do not mean to doubt the truthfulness of his narrative. Many domestic scenes are described in the book, but as we have not dwelt much on the authors personal history, we have passed over these passages. M. Paul does not pretend to give a statistical or historical account of the Philippines; he merely seeks to sketch for our amusement the results of his twenty year s experience and observations made upon the spot, grouped 82 j. S. MILL ON THE THEOHY OF CAUSATION. [Jan. together in such wise as best suited his fancy. Nevertheless, his experience has been fruitful and long, and it is from such observations as his that history will afterwards be written. ART. IV. A System of Logic, Ratiocinative and Inductive, being a Connected View of the Principles of Evidence, and the ]Iiliethods of Scientific Investigation. By JOHN STUART MILL. Third Edition. London: John W. Parker. 18~1 2 vols. Svo. WE should not again call the attention of our readers to a work now so well known and highly esteemed as Mr. J. S. Mills System of Logic, if, in this third edition of it, he had not thought it useful to reply with some degree of minuteness to several of the arguments which have been urged against some of his doctrines and reasonings. He says, very cour- teously, that he has done so not from any taste for contro- versy, but because he wishes to place more clearly and completely before the reader those of his conclusions which have been questioned or denied, together with the grounds on which they rest. He does not complain of the criticisms to which his work has been subjected, but admits that they have been useful to him, by showing where his exposition of a doctrine needed to be amended, or his argument to be strengthened. Among the strictures which he has thus hon- ored with special notice are some which we have repeatedly made, in the pages of this journal and elsewhere, upon his theory of causation; and among the doctrines which he has now for the first time minutely examined and endeavored to confute is that particular theory of causation which we have ventured to advocate, in opposition to the one which Mr. Mill has espoused, and, with great ability, explained and defended. To this formal reply we shall now offer a rejoinder, as we should have done at an earlier day, if we had known that such a reply had been published. But the third edition of his work has not appeared in an American reprint, and as

82 j. S. MILL ON THE THEOHY OF CAUSATION. [Jan. together in such wise as best suited his fancy. Nevertheless, his experience has been fruitful and long, and it is from such observations as his that history will afterwards be written. ART. IV. A System of Logic, Ratiocinative and Inductive, being a Connected View of the Principles of Evidence, and the ]Iiliethods of Scientific Investigation. By JOHN STUART MILL. Third Edition. London: John W. Parker. 18~1 2 vols. Svo. WE should not again call the attention of our readers to a work now so well known and highly esteemed as Mr. J. S. Mills System of Logic, if, in this third edition of it, he had not thought it useful to reply with some degree of minuteness to several of the arguments which have been urged against some of his doctrines and reasonings. He says, very cour- teously, that he has done so not from any taste for contro- versy, but because he wishes to place more clearly and completely before the reader those of his conclusions which have been questioned or denied, together with the grounds on which they rest. He does not complain of the criticisms to which his work has been subjected, but admits that they have been useful to him, by showing where his exposition of a doctrine needed to be amended, or his argument to be strengthened. Among the strictures which he has thus hon- ored with special notice are some which we have repeatedly made, in the pages of this journal and elsewhere, upon his theory of causation; and among the doctrines which he has now for the first time minutely examined and endeavored to confute is that particular theory of causation which we have ventured to advocate, in opposition to the one which Mr. Mill has espoused, and, with great ability, explained and defended. To this formal reply we shall now offer a rejoinder, as we should have done at an earlier day, if we had known that such a reply had been published. But the third edition of his work has not appeared in an American reprint, and as 1854.] r. s. MILL ON THE THEORY OF CAUSATION. 83 but few of the English copies have reached this country, we did not learn till very recently that it contained any notice of our observations. In respect to the theory of causation, Mr. Mill is a disciple of Hurne and Dr. Brown, whom he follows about as closely as we have followed Dr. Clarke, Dr. Reid, M. Maine de Bi- ran, and Dugald Stewart, in defending the opposite doctrine. There is no claim to originality of doctrine on either side, however novel and forcible may be the arguments with which old theories are supported. We cannot, therefore, understand the force or the pertinency of the first paragraph which Mr. Mill devotes to this subject. It is proper in this place to advert to a doctrine at least as old as Dr. Reid, though propounded by him not as certain, but as probable; which has been revived during the last few years in several quarters, and at present gives more signs of life than any other theory of causa- tion at variance with that set forth in the preceding pages. Vol. I. p. 360. The doctrine is certainly a great deal older than Dr. Reid; for the larger portion of it is the foundation of the philosophy of Malebranche, and Dr. Clarke gives a very perspicuous and elegant statement of it in a remarkable passage which is cited by Dugald Stewart in his Philosophy of the Active and Moral Powers (Book III. Chap. 2). The language of Reid, moreover, seems to us to convey full and absolute conviction of its truth; we cannot find any passage in his writings which implies hesitancy or doubt upon this subject. The following expressions, for instance, taken from his corre- spondence with Dr. Gregory, towards the close of his life, are very decided and explicit. I am not able to form any distinct conception of active power but such as I find in myself. I can only exert my active power by will, which supposes thought. It seems to me, that, if I was not conscious of activity in myseli I could never, from things I see about me, have had the conception or idea of active power. In the strict and proper sense, I take an efficient cause to be a being who had power to produce the effect, and exerted the power for that purpose. 84 3. S. MILL ON THE THEORY OF CAUSATION. [Jan. I am not able to form a conception how power, in the strict sense, can be exerted without will; nor can there be will without some degree of understanding. Therefore, nothing can be an efficient cause, in the proper sense, but an intelligent being. Matter cannot be the cause of any thing; it can only be an instru- ment in the hands of a real cause. Hamiltons ed. of Dr. Reids Works, pp. 59, 65, 66. Surely, this is not the way in which Dr. Reid was wont to express an opinion that he regarded, not as certain, but as probable. Again, we cannot see why Mr. Mill should speak of this theory as one which has been revived during the last few years in several quarters. That doctrine stood in no need of a revival which was taught in the Scotch universities without intermission, after Dr. Reids day, by Dugald Stewart, for more than a third of a century, and was published by him in works that have been, perhaps, more generally read than any other philosophical writings of the present century. A clear and ele- gant statement of it may be found in Stewarts Outlines of Moral Philosophy, first published in 1793, and in his Philoso- phy of the Active and Moral Powers, which did not appear till 1828. The writings of M. de Biran, Cousin, and Jouffroy have also rendered the theory in question a very familiar one in the several schools of French philosophy, down to the present day. Leaving these preliminary matters, let us come to Mr. Mills own theory of causation, which coincides in every important respect with that of Hume and Dr. Brown. He resolves the idea of causation into that of invariable ante- cedence, and therefore rejects and ignores the idea of power altogether. Efficient causes, as they are denominated by the Scotch metaphysicians, find no place in his philosophy. It is admitted on all hands, no less by such truly pious men as Dr. Barroxv, Dean Berkeley, Dr. Butler, and Dr. Price, than by skeptics like Hume, and religious metaphysicians like Reid and Stewart, that in regard to merely physical events, or in the material universe alone, we are never able to discern or perceive any thing more than the invariable conjunction of two phenomena. If the phenomenon A happens, the phe 1854.] j. s. MILL ON TUE THEORY OF CAUSATION. 85 nomenon B invariably succeeds; this fact is made known by constant and universal experience, and this is all. But the connection between two such phenomena is not, and never can be, known a priori, or through such acquaintance with the internal character or essence of A, as would enable us to predict that it would be followed by B as its necessary effect, even if we had never seen the experiment or heard of its being made. Yet not one of these writers, except the sceptic Hume, will admit, that, because we cannot directly perceive or know A to be the efficient cause of B, therefore B takes place or happens without any efficient cause; still less would they admit that we do not know what an efficient cause is, or that these two words present no definite meaning to our minds. Mr. Mill, however, if we rightly understand him, here agrees with Hume; he denies any such necessary connection between cause and effect as implies an operating principle in the cause. There is not hino~, he says, not merely that we can discern or perceive nothing, but there is nothing in causation but invariable, certain, and unconditional se- quence. Again he says, speaking of the reluctance with which mankind accept such a theory, even if the reason re- pudiates, imagination ret~ins, the feeling of some more inti- mate connection, of some peculiar tie, or mysterious con- straint exercised by the antecedent over the consequent. Mr. Mill evidently thinks that the reason does repudiate the idea of such connection, or, in other words, the idea of power; and therefore he repudiates it also. The distinction commonly made between something which acts, and some- thing which is acted upon, is merely verbal, he says; there being no real action in the case, either term in the sequence has just as good a right to be called the agent as the other. All the positive conditions of a phenomenon are alike agents, alike active. In strict conformity with this doctrine, Mr. Mill maintains that no proper distinction can be made between what is pop- ularly called the cause of a phenomenon, and its other con- ditions. It is seldom, if ever, between a consequent and a single antece- dent, that this invariable sequence subsists. It is usually between a voL. Lxxviii. NO. 162. 8 86 - J. S. MILL ON THE THEORY OF CAUSATION. [Jan. consequent and the sum of several antecedents; the concurrence of all of them being requisite to produce, that is, to be certain of being fol- lowed by, the consequent. In such cases it is very common to single out one only of the antecedents under the denomination of Cause, calling the others merely Conditions. Thus, if a person cats of a par- ticular dish, and dies in consequence, that is, would not have died if he had not eaten of it, people would be apt to say that eating of that dish was the cause of his death. There needs not, however, be any inva- riable connection between eating of the dish and death; but there certainly is, among the circumstances which took place, some combi- nation or other on which death is invariably consequent: as, for in- stance, the act of eating of the dish, combined with a particular bodily constitution, a particular state of present health, and perhaps even a certain state of the atmosphere; the whole of which circumstances per- haps constituted in this particular case the conditions of the phenom- enon, or, in other words, the set of antecedents which determined it, and but for which it would not have happened. The real Cause is the whole of these antecedents; and we have, philosophically speaking, no right to give the name of 6~ause to one of them, exclusively of the others. Vol. I. pp. 339, 340. He proceeds to analyze several instances of what is usually termed causation, and founds on such analysis his assertion that each and every condition of the phenomenon may be taken in its turn, and (with equal propriety in common par- lance, but with equal impropriety in scientific discourse) may be spoken of as if it were the entire cause. It is an illusion which disposes us to regard the proximate event as more peculiarly or efficiently the cause than any of the an- tecedent states. He denies that any one of the conditions of a phenomenon can be singled out and denominated its ex- clusive cause, because he denies that any cause (so called) ever exerts force or power, that would always tend to produce the phenomenon which, under given circumstances, or given conditions, it actually does produce. If A shoots B dead, still we cannot properly say that A was the cause of Bs death, any more than that the pulling of the trigger, or the contact of the spark with the gunpowder, or the passage of the bullet through the body, or the effusion of blood, was the cause of the death. No one of these antecedents was the cause more than any other, simply because there was no cause 1854.] J. S. MILL ON THE THEORY OF CAUSATION. 87 no application of force no exertion of power. There has only been a conjunction of events, such as always will happen, indeed, if precisely the same antecedent circumstances happen, but which is not truly caused by any thing. Having thus completely eliminated the idea; as well as the reality, of any active force or power in causation, Mr. Mill thinks he has thereby effectually exorcised the bugbear of Fa- talism, which has so long obstructed the reception of the doe- fine of Necessity. He avows that he is a Necessarian, but he stoutly denies that he is a Fatalist. Men are unwilling to admit, he says, that there is any peculiar tie between a mans previously formed character together with his motives on the one hand and his actions on the other, so that the latter are under a mysterious constraint~ from the former. No; a mans motives do not compel or force his character. There is no compulsion in the case; there is no such thing as force. If there were, Fatalism would be the only true doctrine. But a mans actions are the invariable, certain, and unconditional results or consequents of his motives and his character. The actions must have been what they are, and must be repeated, if the same antecedents should again occur; the man could not have willed otherwise than he did; and under the same circumstances, the same volition would inevitably be repeated. B invariably follows A, and always must follow it; yet, so long as A does not compel B to follow it, but the inevita- bleness of the sequence arises from some other source, say, from the nature of things or from a logical necessity, then the doctrine is not one of Fatalism, but only of Ne- cessity. Mr. Mill finds great comfort in this distinction; but we must avow our opinion, that it is a distinction without a difference. We do not object to the Fatalists doctrine so much on ac- count of what he asserts, as on account of what he denies. He asserts that the strongest motive constrains the will with a despotic power, so that the volition could not have been otherwise than what it was. This is bad enough, and even Mr. Mill does not agree with him, but affirms that the motive does not constrain the will, because no one thing ever con- strains or causes another thing. There is no such thing as 88 3. S. MILL ON THE THEORY OF CAUSATION. [Jan. a peculiar tie or mysterious constraint in any case. But the Fatalist denies that we are the free causes of our own actions; and here, unfortunately, Mr. Mill agrees with him, and for the same reason as that alleged in the former instance, namely, that there is no such thing as efficient causation. If this be so, we are just as badly off as ever; for remorse is illusory, and repentance is vain, if the action repented of was the invariable, certain, and unconditional consequence of what preceded it, so that it could not have been changed by any exertion of the will alone, unaided by a change of cir- cumstances. Conscious, however, that man needs a little consolation under the fearful doctrine that all his volitions and actions are the inevitable consequents of circumstances over which he has no control, Mr. Mill tries to administer a drop of comfort by suggesting, that, if a person wishes to alter his character, (that character being one of the antecedents which his volitions fol- low,) then the wish itself is a new antecedent, and by no means one of the least influential, and it necessarily tends towards its own fulfilment. In other words, if the wish exists to modify the character, the character really is somewhat mod- ified by that wish. But then, this wish is given us, not by any efforts of ours, but by circumstances which we cannot help; it comes to us either from external causes, or not at all. Most true, responds our author; yet if circumstances have not given us any desire about the matter, then we have no reason to be troubled. If we have not the wish, we cannot complain of its non-fulfilment. In this case, we are dumb cattle, driven forward by an inexorable master, Fate; but luckily we are blind cattle, and do not therefore lament our destiny, because we are ignorant that the path along which we are driven terminates on a precipice. We cannot find much comfort in this suggestion. In no proper sense are we masters of our own destiny, if the mas- tership is given or withheld only by some circumstance over which we have no control; and it is a very imperfect master- ship at best, as the existence of the wish is only one out of the many antecedents, independent of our own will, which determine our whole conduct. A faint wish would have 1854.] ~. s. MILL ON THE THEORY OF CAUSATION. 89 little or no effect. If what we do depends on our wish - ing to do it, says Dr. Walker, and our wishing to do it depends not on ourselves, then nothing depends on ourselves, except to be the willing and active instruments of destiny. The most decided Fatalist will readily admit, that the thoughts and wishes which come into our minds without any agency on our part, and whether we will or not, are among the circumstances which regulate our actions and shape our des- tiny. In all other respects, save the two qualifying doctrines (if they can be called such) which we have now fully considered, Mr. Mill is a consistent and rigorous Fatalist. He is too good a logician to stop short of any legitimate inferences from his doefrmne, and too bold and independent a thinker to shrink from avowing these inferences, whatever they may be. There is no Thing produced, no event happening, in the known universe, which is not connected by a uniformity, or invariable se- quence, with some one or more of the phenomena which preceded it; insomuch that it will happen again as often as those phenomena occur again, and as no other phenomenon having the character of a counter- acting cause shall coexist. These antecedent phenomena, again, were connected in a similar manner with some that preceded them; and so on, until we reach, as the ultimate step attainable by us, either the proper- ties of some one primeval cause, or the conjunction of several. The whole of the phenomena of nature were therefore the necessary, or, in other words, the unconditional, consequences of some former collocation of the Permanent Causes. The state of the whole universe at any instant we believe to be the consequence of its state at the previous instant; insomuch that one who knew all the agents which exist at the present moment, their collocation in space, and their properties, in other words, the laws of their agency, could predict the whole subsequent history of the universe, at least unless some new volition of a power capable of controlling the universe should supervene. Vol. I. pp. 337, 338. The character of this doefrmne cannot be mistaken; Spinoza or Fichte did not announce a more comprehensive and con- sistent theory of Fatalism. It teaches us that every event is surrounded by other events, and must be considered as being at the same time both antecedent and consequent, as neces- 8* 90 3. 5. MILL ON THE THEORY OF CAUSATION. [Jan. sarily resulting from those which preceded, and necessarily followed by those which come after it, and thus as forming one link in an adamantine chain which extends from eternity to eternity. All occurrences whatever have their environment of circumstances, with which they stand in necessary and fixed relations by an absolute law; and the state of the uni- verse at any one moment, in all its parts, from the creation of a world to the stirring of an aspen-leaf, could not possibly have been different from what it is. The presence and the apparent activity of human beings cannot affect or modify this inevitable result. Man himself is but one link in the chain, and is as much bound by the relentless law of destiny as the dust that he treads upon. He cannot move a finger, he cannot have a sensation, he cannot entertain a single thought, except in the manner and at the moment prescribed by that iron law which determines the position of every grain of sand in the desert, and regulates the movement of every atom of dust that floats in the atmosphere. In every such atom, indeed, man beholds the complete type of his own des- tiny. As the gyrations and seemingly irregnlar and lawless movements of that atom actually result from the fixed laws of gravitation and inertia, combined with the equally stable laws which govern the immense variety of meteorological phenomena, and could be exactly predicted if all these laws were known, and all the data could be collected, so the con- duct of man, even in the slightest particulars, could be exactly foreseen, if all the antecedent and concomitant circumstances, which inevitably determine his conduct, could be gathered and accurately measured. There is a Science of Human Na- ture, according to Mr. Mill, just as there is a Science of Mete- orological Phenomena; though, both in one case and the other, the circumstances or data are so numerous and diversified, that we cannot hope, with our imperfect means of observation, to gather them all and weigh them accurately, so as to predict infallibly just what the weather will be every day for the next year, or just what the man will do every hour and every minute of his future life. Having taken this summary view of Mr. Mills doctrine, we are now prepared to contrast it with the opposite theory of 1854.] ~. s. MILL ON THE THEORY OF CAUSATION. 91 causation which has been repeatedly presented and advocated in this journal, and which he has now undertaken to confute. We are willing to accept his own sketch of the chief points of this theory, and of some of the considerations adduced in its support. The following, then, is his outline of what he calls the Volition Theory. According to the theory in question, Mind, or, to speak more pre.. cisely, Will, is the only cause of phenomena. The type of Causation, as well as the exclusive source from which we derive the idea, is our own voluntary agency. Here, and here only (it is said), we have direct evidence of causation. We know that we can move our bodies. Re.. specting the phenomena of inanimate nature, we have no other direct knowledge than that of antecedence and sequence. But in the case of our voluntary actions, it is affirmed that we are conscious of power before we have experience of results. An act of volition, whether fob lowed by an effect or not, is accompanied by a consciousness of effort, of force exerted, of power in action, which is necessarily causal, or causative. * This feeling of energy or force, inherent in an act of will, is knowledge a priori; assurance, prior to experience, that we have the power of causing effects. Volition, therefore, it is asserted, is something more than an unconditional antecedent; it is a cause in a dif- ferent sense from that in which physical phenomena are said to cause one another: it is an Efficient Cause. From this the transition is easy to the further doctrine, that Volition is the sole Efficient Cause of all phenomena. It is inconceivable that dead force could continue unsupported for a moment beyond its creation. We cannot even con- ceive of change or phenomena without the energy of a mind. The word action itself; says another writer of the same school, has no real significance, except when applied to the doings of an intelligent agent. Let any one conceive, if he can, of any power, energy, or force, inhe- rent in a lump of matter. ~ Phenomena may have the semblance of being produced by physical causes, but they are in reality produced, say these writers, by the immediate agency of mind. All things which do not proceed from a human (or, I suppose, an animal) will, proceed, they say, directly from Divine will. The earth is not moved by the combina- tion of a centripetal and a projectile force; this is but a mode of speak- ing which serves to facilitate our conceptions. It is moved by the direct * N. A. Review, for April, 1845, p. 470. Lowell Lectures on the Application of Metaphysical and Ethical Science to the Evidences of Religion, p. 84. ~ Lowell Lectures, & c., p. 88. 92 J. S. MILL ON THE THEORY OF CAUSATION. [Jan. volition of an omnipotent being, in a path coinciding with that which we deduce from the hypothesis of these two forces. Vol. I. pp. 360, 361. We cannot find much novelty in the objection which Mr. Mill proceeds to make to this theory. He repeats the old, un- founded statement, that our voluntary acts differ in no essential respect from those material phenomena which are usually cited as instances of causation, though it is now universally ad- mitted the causal nexus cannot be detected in them, but that they seem to be related to each other only as antecedents and consequents. Our will, he affirms, causes our bodily ac- tions in the same sense, and in no other, in which cold causes ice, or a spark causes the explosion of gunpowder. The volition is the antecedent, the actual motion is the consequent; but the connection between them, it is said, is not a subject of consciousness, but only of experience. It is allowed that both the antecedent and the consequent are subjects of conscious- ness, but it is denied that we are conscious of the dependence of one of them upon the other. Surely a marked difference is established between the two classes of cases by this very fact, that the antecedent in one of them being a state of mind, we know it intimately and imme- diately, consciousness attesting its relation to the effect before the effect follows; while in any succession of events, exterior to our bodies, we must wait for the result of the experiment before we can know whether the antecedent will be followed by one consequent or another. We must wait till the trial is made, before we can say that a spark, if it falls into a basin of water, will be extinguished, or, if it falls upon a heap of gun- powder, will cause an explosion. But if III will to move my arm, before the result of the attempt is made known, before I can learn whether my arm is paralyzed or not, I know that the mental effort is directed to my arm, and not to my leg, that it is intended even to produce a particular movement of the arm, as upwards, or downwards, or sideways. If any result fol- lows, I know just what the character of the result will be. But in the case of the spark falling upon gunpowder, upon sand, or upon water, we know not what kind of result will follow, or whether there will be any result. But after making, in the text, the uncompromising assertion 1854.J J. S. MILL ON THE THEORY OF CAUSATION. 93 that those against whom he is contending have never pro- duced, and do not pretend to produce, any positive evidence that the power of our will to move our bodies would be known to us independently of experience, Mr. Mill adds the follow- ing admission in a note. Unless we are to consider as such the following statement, by one of the writers quoted in the text: In the case of mental exertion, the result to be accomplished is preconsidered or meditated, and is therefore known a priori, or before experience. (Bowens Lowell Lectures on the Application of Jlilietaphysical and Ethical Science to the Evidences of Religion, Boston, 1849.) This is merely saying, that when we will a thing, we have an idea of it. But to have an idea of what we wish to happen, does not imply a prophetic knowledge that it will happen. Vol. I. p. 362. Certainly it does not; but a mental sequence, between a volition and a bodily motion, is hereby distinguished from a sequence between two external events, because, in the latter case, the antecedent gives us no idea at all what the conse- quent will be, and no assurance that there will be any conse- quent; while in the former case, the antecedent does inform us, through consciousness, and prior to experience, what the consequent will be, if any, and also that it will tend to pro- duce this particular consequent, even if the effort, or the force of the volition, should not suffice to produce the whole of the intended result ; just as I may be conscious that I push against a pane of glass, though I do not push hard enough to break it. It is something to establish this distinction between a mental and an external sequence, because we thereby nega- tive Mr. Mills previous assertion, that our will causes our bodily actions in the same sense, and in no other, in which cold causes ice. The king of Siam knew what cold is, for even in his climate the nights are cooler than the days; but he did not know that cold would change water into a solid, andhe would not believe it. But if his Siamese Majesty had willed to move his arm, though, from sudden paralysis, the move- ment should not follow, he would still know that his volition had reference to his arm, and not to any other portion of his body, and also that the volition tended to produce the required motion, though his strength was suddenly found insufficient to effect it entirely. 94 J. S. MILL ON THE THEORY OF CAUSATION. [Jan. Again, though the idea of what we wish to happen does not imply a prophetic knowledge of what will happen, yet the idea of what we will (i. e. the consciousness of a volition) does imply, if not a prophetic knowledge of what will happen, yet an immediate knowledge of something that does happen. It is a consciousness of an action of something done of power exerted whether the future result of that action be precisely what we intended or not. An act of the will is at the same moment a volition and an action; it is but one state of mind considered under two different relations. It is a volition, in so far as it is directed to one purpose or another; it is an action, in so far as it is something done, (and some- thing therefore for which our conscience holds us responsible,) whether the ulterior purpose in view is answered or not. Mr. Mills ingenious periphrasis for a volition an idea of what we wish to happen cannot be accepted. Merely to have an idea of a thing, is not to do that thing. I may have an idea of committing murder; but I do not thereby commit murder. The mind is entirely passive when it is occupied with mere contemplation, or is merely entertaining ideas. But on the other hand, if I will to commit murder, and, as a necessary means to this end, will to pull the trigger of a pis- tol, then, in foro conscientiw, I am guilty of that murder, because I have done something, though, from the rustiness of the lock, the trigger should not move, and the life of the in- tended victim should thereby be saved. Mr. Mill argues that our consciousness of the volition does not contain in itself any a priori knowledge that the mus- cular motion will follow, because the nerves may be par- alyzed, or the muscles stiff, and then, in fact, the motion will not follow. The paralysis of the nerves, in this case, answers exactly to the rustiness of the lock of the pistol. Though the whole effect which was intended does not follow, a portion of it is certainly accomplished, because something is done, and that something tends towards, or is a part of, the effect origi- nally intended. Something is done, because force was ex- pended power was exercised. We have proof of this in the consciousness of effort, the existence of which Mr. Mill does not deny. Effort means power exerted. We have 1854.] 3. S. MILL ON THE THEORY OF CAUSATION. 96 already said, in a passage which is cited by Mr. Mill, that force exerted, or power in action, is necessarily causal or causative. It is an efficient cause. It may not be sufficient for the end proposed, as in the case of the pistol lock, or the paralyzed arm. But that force exerted should not produce any effect, amounts very nearly to a contradiction in terms; for our only idea of force is that which produces something. Mr. Mill is not able to deny this, for in another portion of his work, in a passage which we cited from him, he has unwarily admitted the fact. When speaking of the laws of motion, he says The body does not only move in that direction unless counteracted; it tends to move in that manner even when counteracted; it still exerts, in the original direction, the same energy of movement as if its first impulse had been undisturbed, and produces, by that energy, an exactly equivalent quantity of effect. This is true even when the force leaves the body as it found it, in a state of absolute rest; as when we attempt to raise a body of three tons weight with a force equal to one ton. Vol. I. p. 454. And again These facts are correctly indicated by the expression tendency. All laws of causation, in consequence of their liability to be counteracted, require to be stated in words affirmative of tendencies only, and not of actual results Thus pressure, in mechanics, is synonymous with tendency to motion, and forces are not reckoned as causing actual mo- tion, but as exerting pressure. Vol. I. p. 455. And yet, in the single instance of a volition to produce a bodily motion, Mr. Mill refuses to admit that the volition tends to produce the motion, because, if the limb be paralyzed, the motion does not follow; though he allows that there is a consciousness of effort, or, in other words, of power exerted. We are now prepared to consider another portion of Mr. Mills note on our remark, that, in the case of mental exer- tion, the result to be accomplished is preconsidered or medi- tated. After all, even if we had an instinctive knowledge that our actions would follow our will, this, as Brown remarks, would prove nothing as to the nature of Causation. Our knowing, previous to experience, 96 3. 5. MILL ON THE THEORY OF CAUSATION. [Jan. that an antecedent will be followed by a certain consequent, would not prove the relation between them to be any thing more than antecedence and consequence. Vol. I. p. 363. If, as in the case of two events in the external world, our only reason for believing one of them to be the cause of the other were the fact, that it is invariably followed by the other, then certainly this fact, whether known a priori or only by experience, would not prove efficient causation would not make manifest the causal nexus between them. If a man of science, in whose word I have full confidence, assures me that water poured upon quicklime will produce heat, I may believe him, and thus be enabled to predict the result of the experi- ment before I have tried it. But the experiment itself, or the assurance of another, only communicates the barren fact of the invariable sequence of the two events. The case is far different, however, when it is my knowledge of the internal constitution, or essence, of the antecedent event which enables me to predict that it must be followed by the consequent. In the case of a volition, I am the cause, and my knowledge of my own acts, acquired through consciousness, assures me that in the volition I have exerted force, and this expenditure of power must be followed at least by some effect. The fact that the result is preconsidered, or known beforehand, is not impor- tant in itself, but only as one indication or proof, among oth- ers, that we are aware of the causative character of the volition before it is manifested by any effect. In the case of external events, we are always obliged to wait till the effect follows, before obtaining an indication that there is to be any effect whatever. Mr. Mill asserts that it is only because the succession of the muscular movement to the volition is the most direct, instan- taneous, and familiar of all sequences which come under our observation, that we are prone to consider it as less mysterious than any succession of material phenomena. He says it is only the common case of attempting to facilitate our concep- tion of unfamiliar facts by assimilating them to others which are familiar. Yet he admits that there was a time when the action of matter upon matter was held to be both more famil- iar and more susceptible of explanation more easily con- 1854.] 3. ~. MILL ON TIlE TIlEORY OF OATJ$ATION. 97 ceivable than the action of mind upon matter. The world is still divided upon the question which of the two opera- tions is the more explicable. But this difference of opinion is easily accounted for. To the students of physical science, accustomed to the processes of the laboratory and the work- shop, the succession of material phenomena is the more famil- iar, so that it seems not to stand in need of any explanation. Savages and half-civilized nations, for a similar reason, are still more prone to look upon the subject in this light. Met- aphysicians alone are more familiar with the facts attested by consciousness. If, therefore, as Mr. Mill asserts, in the infan- cy and early youth of the human race, our voluntary acts are spontaneously taken as the type of causation in general, and all phenomena are supposed to be directly produced by the will of some sentient being, then the more frequently observed phenomena are referred for explanation to those which are less familiarly known; and this can only be because they have a direct consciousness of the exertion of power in the latter case, while mere body, familiar as it is, appears to them essen- tially inert. Yet our author calls this doctrine original Fetichism; and, with a nearer approach to a sneer than is becoming in a philosopher, says, be will not characterize it in the words of Hume, or of any follower of Hume, but in those of a religions metaphysician, Dr. Reid, in order more effectually to show the unanimity which exists on the subject among all competent thinkers. He proceeds to cite from Reid a passage in which that phi- losopher remarks upon the proneness of children and rude nations to ascribe life and active power to material objects, and to stock fountains, rivers, and trees with their attendant deities, because they cannot believe such objects to have power to move themselves. The citation is a most unlucky one for Mr. Mills purpose, as he would have perceived, if he had read only two paragraphs farther. The passage quoted by him ends with the following remarks. When a few, of superior intellectual abilities, find leisure for specu- lation, they begin to philosophize, and soon discover that many of those objects which at first they believed to be intelligent and active are really lifeless and passive. This is a very important discovery. It elevates voL. Lxxviii. NO. 162. 9 [Jan. 98 3. 5. MILL ON THE THEORY OF CAUSATION. the mind, emancipates from many vulgar superstitions, and invites to further discoveries of the same kind. As philosophy advances, life and activity in natural objects retires, and leaves them dead and inactive. Instead of moving voluntarily, we find them to be moved necessarily; instead of acting, we find them to be acted upon; and Nature appears as one great machine, where one wheel is turned by another, that by a third; and how far this necessary succession may reach, the philosopher does not know. Vol. I. p. 365. The lines which we have italicized are, perhaps, indication enough that the Scotch metaphysician is here speaking iron- ically, and is therefore actually laughing at the doctrine of which our author supposes him to be the advocate. So much for the unanimity which exists on the subj ect among all competent thinkers! Reid was a little too apt to boast him- self as the special advocate of the common sense of common people against the arrogant pretensions of the philosophers, as he calls them. Thus, in the second of the foregoing para- graphs, he proceeds to speak, still sarcastically, of the efforts of the speculative few to frame a theory which shall be just the opposite of the vulgar belief, which shall represent Nature as a great machine, or piece of clock~vork,in which motion is necessarily produced by motion, and this again by another motion; and ho~ far this necessary succession may reach, the philosopher does not know. In the next paragraph, not cited by Mr. Mill, he drops the ironical tone, and declares both these extreme opinions to be equally absurd and un- founded; the one is polytheism, and the other is atheism, for it traces back the law of fate even to the actions of Deity, and leaves us without any notions whatever of a free cause or of any power in the universe. The weakness of human reason makes men prone, when they leave one extreme, to rush into the opposite; and thus philosophy, even in its infancy, may lead men from idolatry and polytheism into atheism, and from ascribing active power to inanimate beings, to conclude all things to be carried on by necessity. Reid on the Active Powers, Essay IV. Ch. 3. In future, Mr. Mill will probably consider it hazardous to make citations from any author without carefully examining their context. 1854.] J. S. MILL ON THE THEORY OF CAUSATION. 99 For tis the sport, to have the engineer Hoist with his own petar. We may pass very quickly over the remainder of his com- ments on the Volition Theory, as he only reiterates and am- plifies, through five or six pages, his unsupported assertion that the advocates of this theory exalt into an original law of the human intellect and of outward nature one particular sequence of phenomena, which appears to them more natural and more conceivable than other sequences, only because it is more familiar. We answer, first, that the fact is not so, and secondly, if it were so, it would prove nothing for Mr. Mills argument. To the great bulk of mankind, the most familiar and striking phenomena are material phenomena, things and events in the external world; about these, their thoughts and actions are almost exclusively concerned. And the most obvious explanation of these phenomena is that which infers causation from mere succession, which considers every phys- ical event to be the efficient cause of that which follows it, and the natural effect of that which precedes it. Among common people, ninety-nine out of a hundred believe that the falling of a spark causes the explosion of the powder, and that taking poison causes death. Nay, so prone are they to infer causation from mere succession, that many of them believe an earthquake or the appearance of a comet to be the true cause of a pestilence, a famine, or any other public calamity which may happen to follow it. Materialism is a far more natural or vulgar error, (the last epithet describes what Mr. Mill actually means,) than idealism. In the second place, even if the assertion were true, it would be nugatory for the purposes of this argument. The more natural and obvious explanation of a phenomenon is just as likely to be the true one as that which is more recon- dite and far-fetched. Thus, Reids doctrine of perception, as improved by Sir William Hamilton, and now almost univer- sally accepted by competent thinkers, is only a return to common sense, or a formal adoption by the philosophers of the opinion that has always been entertained by the vulgar, and a rejection of all the cobweb systems and so-called ex- planations of this subject which metaphysicians have been 100 3. 5. MILL ON THE THEORY OF CAUSATION. [Jan. spinning for three thousand years. We do not hold, however, that the obviousness of this doctrine is any strong recommen- dation of it, or that the want of obviousness is any valid ob- jection to the theories which are opposed to it. Every theory in science, and every alleged fact, must rest on its own direct evidence; no weighty presumption for or against either is to be drawn from the mere circumstance that the cognition of them is easy or difficult. The existence of latent heat is now just as certain, and as fully proved, as that of the heat of temperature, though no one before Dr. Black even suspected its existence, and though the fact cannot be demonstrated even now without an array of experiments and reasoning. On the other hand, philosophers, and especially metaphysi- cians, are generally prone to make a mystery out of a very simple thing, and to speak contemptuously of the verdict of common people when that verdict happens to be against them. Mr. Mill is too sound and competent a thinker to be guilty of this affectation, except when he is hard pushed for an argument. We pass to our authors final objection to the Volition Theory, or rather to the doctrine of the Immediate Agency of the Deity, which is asserted as a corollary from the Volition Theory. The doctrine is, that all the phenomena of the material universe, so far as they show change, diversity, and activity which are not attributable to human power and will, manifest the immediate and omnipresent action of the Deity. Dr. Clarke states the doctrine thus All those things which we commonly say are the effects of the natural powers of matter and laws of motion, of gravitation, attraction, or the like, are indeed (if we will speak properly and truly) the effects of Gods acting upon matter continually and every moment, either immediately by himself, or mediately by some created intelligent being. Mr. Mill objects as follows. I am unwilling to leave the subject without adverting to the ad- ditional fallacy contained in the corollary from this theory; in the in- ference that, because Volition is an efficient cause, therefore it is the only cause, and the direct agent in producing even what is apparently produced by something else. Volitions are not known to produce any 4hing directly except nervous action, for the will influences even the 1854.] j. s. MILL ON TIlE ThEORY OF CAUSATION. 101 muscles only through the nerves. Though it were granted, then, that every phenomenon has an efficient, and not merely a phenomenal cause, and that volition, in the case of the peculiar phenomena which are known to be produced by it, is that efficient cause: are we therefore to say, with these writers, that since we know of no other efficient cause, and ought not to assume one without evidence, there is no other, and volition is the direct cause of all phenomena? A more outrageous stretch of inference could hardly be made. Because among the in- finite variety of the phenomena of nature there is one, namely, a par- ticular mode of action of certain nerves, which has for its cause, and as we are now supposing for its efficient cause, a state of our mind; and because this is the only efficient cause of which we are conscious, being the only one of which in the nature of the case we can be con- scious, since it is the only one which exists within ourselves; does this justify us in concluding that all other phenomena must have the same kind of efficient cause with that one eminently special, narrow, and peculiarly human or animal phenomenon ? The supporters of the Volition Theory ask us to infer that volition causes every thing, for no reason except that it causes one particular thing; although that one phenomenon, far from being a type of all natural phenomena, is eminently peculiar; its laws bearing scarcely any resemblance to those of any other phenomenon, whether of inorganic or of organic nature. Vol. I. pp. 370372. We presume Mr. Mill will admit, as a sound logical maxim, what Sir William Hamilton calls the Law of Parsimony, entia~ non muitiplicanche sunt prceter necessitatem, no more causes must be assigned than what are absolutely necessary to account for the phenomena. We are now entitled to as- sume that the Volition Theory is proved, Mr. Mill himself taking it for granted (for the moment) in the preceding ex- tract. The reasoning, then, runs thus : Numberless changes are constantly taking place in matter, which are to be accounted for, as every phenomenon must have a cause; the material body cannot change itself, for we know that matter is utterly lifeless and inert, incapable of effecting change either in itself or in any thing else; a large class of these changes take place in our own bodies, and are immediately known to be effected by the direct agency of the human will, which is the only agency within our sphere of immediate knowledge that is capable of exerting any sort of power or force; we know, also, (not im- 9* 102 J. S. MILL ON THE THEORY OF CAUSATION. [Jan. mediately, indeed, but from abundant evidence,) that another Will exists in nature, which is omnipresent and omnipotent; when, therefore, we ascribe all the changes in matter which are not produced by ourselves to the omnipresent action of the Divine Mind, we assign them to the only known Cause in the universe which is capable of producing them, and to a Cause perfectly similar in kind (though infinitely disparate in degree) to the human will, which we know to be a source of power, and the efficient cause of a vast number of changes that are effected every moment in our own bodies. Or the argument may be more briefly stated thus Volition is the only known power in the universe; changes in matter are the phe- nomena to be accounted for; and as many such changes are confessedly produced by human volition, the residue of them must be attributed to some other Will, which, by its omni- presence and omnipotence, is capable of producing them. This reasoning may not be satisfactory to Mr. Mill, as it establishes a doctrine which he is unwilling to admit; but we contend that it is eminently logical, and in proof of our asser- tion we once more cite against him his own System of Logic. The kind of reasoning here employed is what he calls the method of induction by simple enumeration, a law being assumed to hold good in all cases, because it has been found to hold good in many cases, and not one instance has been found to the contrary. It is certainly curious to find Mr. Mill, in the following passage, asserting that this process is entirely valid and lef4timate in reference to the law of universal causa- tion itself, the very instance to which we are here applying it.* Induction by simple enumeration, or, in other words, generalization of an observed fact from the mere absence of any known instance to the contrary, is by no means the illicit logical process in all cases which it is in most. It is delusive and insufficient exactly in proportion as the subject-matter of the observation is special and limited in extent. As the sphere widens, this unscientific method becomes less and less liable * We are obliged here to quote the first edition of Mills Logic; for ~n this third edition, the passage is so much modified and enlarged that it is not so well adaptcd for our purpose. Substantially the same doctrine is still expresscd in it; but the author seems to have been half conscious that he was here contradictin0 himself, and lie has labored hard, though in vain, to remove the difficulty. 1854.] r. S. MILL ON TIlE THEORY OF CAUSATION. 103 to mislead; and the most universal class of truths, the law of causation, for instance, and the principles of number and of geometry, are duly and satisfactorily proved by that method alone, nor are they susceptible of any other proof Book IV. Ch. xxi. 2. The case we are now considering is one of universal gen- eralization; it embraces all the phenomena of the material universe, every change in which requires a cause. Human bodies, of course, are a part of this universe, as much so as the ground these bodies tread upon, or the air they breathe. All the voluntary movements of these bodies, which are repeated and varied till their number exceeds all calculation, are known to proceed from the will as their efficient cause; and the will is the only known instance of efficient causation in the universe. The law of induction by simple enumeration, then, is strictly applicable in this case; and the conclusion to which it leads us is, that all other physical events from the quivering of an aspen-leaf up to the flight of the planets in their courses are also attributable to Will, and that Will must be one proportioned in power and comprehensiveness to the variety and grandeur of its effects. That this Will be- longs to a Being differing from all those whose existence is made known to us by the testimony of the senses, is not a cir- cumstance which vitiates the argument, for the reasoning is addressed only to the Theist. The muscular movements of different individuals are ascribed respectively to the volitions of those individuals. The will has efficient causative agency as such, and not because it is the will of one man or another, not because it is human or divine. We have elsewhere stated this reasoning in a more popular form, and will quote the passage We recognize the presence of God in nature in precisely the same manner in which we come to know that any intelligent, though finite being, exists besides ourselves. The outward form, surely, is nothing; a statue or an automaton may be moulded into a perfect external like- ness of a man. But the actions of the living man show that he is ani- mated by a spirit kindred to our own, by something distinct from the mere framework of bones and muscles which he inhabits, and which we distinguish as clearly from the person within as we do our own bodies from ourselves. Jam conscious of power dependent on my will, and I 104 J. S. MILL ON THE THEORY OF CAUSATION. [Jan. perceive the effects produced on matter by the exertion of that will. I perceive, also, perfectly similar effects, which I can attribute only to my brother man, and I infer, therefore, that he exists, and that his will is equally active in producing those effects. I do not imagine that his limbs move themselves, but that he moves them; I do not think that his eye turns towards me of its own accord with a glance of affection, or that his hand comes to meet mine in a friendly grasp from an energy that is inherent in that hand alone. In like manner, then, I say, if His sun rolls over my head and warms me, if His wind cools and refreshes me, if His voice speaks to me, whether in the thunder at midnight, or in the whispers of the forest, or but in the rustling of a leaf, if His seasons still come round to me in their grateful vicissitude, and, wherever I look in outward nature, I behold constant action, change, and joy, I do not suppose that brute and senseless matter causes all this by its inherent power, whether otiginal or derived, but that the spirit, the Per- son, within, controls, vivifies, and produces all These, as they change, Almighty Father, these Are but the varied God. The rolling year Is full of thee. Lowell Lectures on the Application of Mietaphysical and Ethical Science, pp. 135, 136. We had purposed to make some further observations on Mr. Mills argument against the freedom of the will, and on a few other points in his doctrine of causation as contrasted with the Volition Theory. But this article has already ex- ceeded the limits proper for the discussion of so abstruse a sub- ject, and we forbear. We are willing to allow the brief state- ment that has been given of the nature and the consequences of his system to stand in juxtaposition and contrast with the opposite theory which he has so vehemently assailed. They are not merely the extremes of opinion on this difficult question; they are, also, the only logical and consistent views of it which can be taken, all intermediate doctrines being imperfect and inconsequent, He who rejects either of them cannot consist- ently stop short of embracing the other to its full extent. Even so acute a philosopher and logician as Mr. Mill has failed, as we have seen, to reconcile his rejection of all free causation in The universe with any doctrine that stops short of the gloomiest extreme of Fatalism. On the other hand, his objections to the theory that volition is the only efficient cause either of 1854.] THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. 105 mental or of material phenomena are so feeble, that they tend rather to increase than diminish our confidence in it. The position that has not even been shaken by the assaults of so able an opponent must be in itself impregnable. We have criticized his arguments with freedom, but with no abatement of respect for one who occupies deservedly so high a rank among the English thinkers of the present day. ART. V. 1. Louis XVII.: sa Vie, son Agonie, sa iJiort; Captivite de la Famille ]i?oyale au Temple; Ouvrage enrichi dAutographes, de Portraits, et de Plans. Par M. A. DE BEAUCHESNE. Paris: Plon fr~res, Editeurs. 1852. 2 vols. 8vo. 2. Filia Dolorosa: Memoirs of MARIE TH1~R~5E CHARLOTTE, Duchess of AngonUme, the Last of the Dauphines. By MRS. IROMER, Author of A Pilgrimage to the Temples and Tombs of Egypt, etc. London: Richard Bentley. 1852. 2 vols. 8vo. 3. An Abridged Account of the Misfortunes of the Dauphin, followed by some Documents in Support of the Facts related by the Prince; with a Supplement. Translated from the French, by the HON. and REV. C. G. PERCIVAL, Rector of Calverton, Bucks. London: James Fraser. 1838. 8vo. pp. 714. THE titles of these books will inevitably remind our read- ers of the ingenious article some time since printed in Put- nams Magazine, in support of the pretensions of the Rev. Eleazer Williams to be the veritable son of the unfortunate Louis XVI., and the present legitimate heir to the crown of France. Shortly after perusing the article in question, M. de Beauchesnes volumes reached us from Paris, and it was our intention to devote an earlier number of this Review to a thor- ough examination of the subject. But the announcement of a more elaborate treatise by the Rev. Mr. Hanson, the most earnest and able of Mr. Williamss advocates, was a sufficient

1854.] THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. 105 mental or of material phenomena are so feeble, that they tend rather to increase than diminish our confidence in it. The position that has not even been shaken by the assaults of so able an opponent must be in itself impregnable. We have criticized his arguments with freedom, but with no abatement of respect for one who occupies deservedly so high a rank among the English thinkers of the present day. ART. V. 1. Louis XVII.: sa Vie, son Agonie, sa iJiort; Captivite de la Famille ]i?oyale au Temple; Ouvrage enrichi dAutographes, de Portraits, et de Plans. Par M. A. DE BEAUCHESNE. Paris: Plon fr~res, Editeurs. 1852. 2 vols. 8vo. 2. Filia Dolorosa: Memoirs of MARIE TH1~R~5E CHARLOTTE, Duchess of AngonUme, the Last of the Dauphines. By MRS. IROMER, Author of A Pilgrimage to the Temples and Tombs of Egypt, etc. London: Richard Bentley. 1852. 2 vols. 8vo. 3. An Abridged Account of the Misfortunes of the Dauphin, followed by some Documents in Support of the Facts related by the Prince; with a Supplement. Translated from the French, by the HON. and REV. C. G. PERCIVAL, Rector of Calverton, Bucks. London: James Fraser. 1838. 8vo. pp. 714. THE titles of these books will inevitably remind our read- ers of the ingenious article some time since printed in Put- nams Magazine, in support of the pretensions of the Rev. Eleazer Williams to be the veritable son of the unfortunate Louis XVI., and the present legitimate heir to the crown of France. Shortly after perusing the article in question, M. de Beauchesnes volumes reached us from Paris, and it was our intention to devote an earlier number of this Review to a thor- ough examination of the subject. But the announcement of a more elaborate treatise by the Rev. Mr. Hanson, the most earnest and able of Mr. Williamss advocates, was a sufficient 106 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. [Jan. inducement to postpone our labors till we could fairly dispose of the whole matter at once. Several months have since elapsed without the appearance of Mr. Hansons promised volume; and much as we could desire to be assisted in our task by the result of his studies and careful research, we do not feel at liberty to suffer a longer delay to intervene ere we place upon our pages some notice of M. de Beauchesnes in- defatigable inquiries during the past twenty years. Justice to our readers demands that his volumes should be examined while yet their contents are fresh, and their merits or demerits generally unknown to the reading world on this side of the water; for the republication of the English translation by Mr. Hazlitt has hardly yet found its way to the shelves of many private libraries. And in doing this, we rejoice that we are not called upon to say much concerning Mr. Hanson or his proleg~. What will be the nature of his forthcoming book we are of course unable to guess; and it is perfectly possible, (though to the last degree improbable,) that evidence may be adduced sufficient to establish the claims of the soi-disant Dauphin of the Northwest. We are willing, too, to pass over in silence all that has hitherto been put forth in favor of his pretensions; for really, when we consider the magnitude of the stake in controversy, and the fact that every thing in the plaintiffs case, so far, is made to rest, not merely upon Mr. Williamss bare assertion, but likewise, to a certain extent, upon the soundness of his judgment, it seems absurd to affect to treat his story with grave respect. We are told, too, that the Prince de Joinville, through a member of his household, contradicts flatly so much of Mr. Williamss tale as relates to himself; and we are inclined to believe the Prince to be honest. However, as we have already intimated, since we cannot give the least credence to his story on its present evidences, and as we are promised more satisfactory proof, we are content to spare ourselves the pain of pronouncing here upon its mdi vidual, isolated merits. Moreover, the case does not now stand as though it were to-day broached for the first time. In the course of our remarks, it will be seen, that, unless the most gra- tuitous and wicked perjury has been committed, in relation not only to the more important facts, but to solitary and uncon 1854.] THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. 107 nected circumstances, observed by different persons, acting separately from each other and at various times, the whole forming a perfect chain of circumstantial as well positive evi- dence, and this perjury persisted in by numerous witnesses of all degrees of social rank, of every shade of political opin- ion, not only under the Republican government of France, but during all the intervening period, down to 1851, under the Directory, the Consulate, the Empire, the Restoration, and the Monarchy of the Barricades; unless such a wild and mon- strous supposition should turn out to be true, then there is no need of discussing our Indian Dauphins story at all; its prob- ability, nay, its possibility, may be disposed of in a single paragraph. If it be conclusively proved that Louis XVII. has been dead for over half a century, then, of course, even Mr. Williams will not insist on our believing him to be alive now. There is, no doubt, a constant tendency of the human mind to believe in the marvellous, and to admit those things to be true which it wishes to be true. Populus qui vult decipi, deci- piatur. The history of nations in all ages furnishes many instances of multitudes of persons abandoning their homes and all that had made life precious to them, to follow the fortunes of a stranger, whom, rightfully or wrongfully, they believed entitled to their support. In no case does this pas- sion more strongly show itself, than when the adventurer at whose beck the domestic hearth was exchanged for the dun- geon, and the conjugal pillow for the headsmans block, is supposed to be the representative of a banished line of sover- eigns. During how many ages was the return of Arthur, (quem adhuc vera bruti Britones expectant venturum,*) with his good sword Excalibar by his side, looked for by the credulous children of his native soil! The audacity of the man, who boldly demands as his right those titles which no one can claim but at the peril of his head, goes a great way to estab- lish the validity of his pretensions among the illiterate. Eng- land has had its Lambert Simnel and its Perkin Warbeck (whom, by the by, we shrewdly opine to have been all that he claimed to be), Portugal its Don Sebastian, Russia its * William of Newbury. 108 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. [Jan. Demetrius, and France, never in the rear where personal en- terprise is concerned, has furnished, to replace the child who died in the Temple, at least a couple of dozen Dauphins, each of whom, by his own showing and that of his friends, was the true and legitimate son of Louis XVI. We will trace, step by step, from his cradle to his grave, the life and history of this child; and, without exposing the details of the falsehood of all of his rivals, simply proceed to show how futile, at this late day, must be all attempts to impose upon the public this old deception under a new face. And if we should be tempted to hold up to our readers scorn one or two of the most conspicuous of these impostors, it will only be on the same charitable principles that impel the farmer to hang up in his fields the carcasses of a slaughtered crow or kite, that other kindred spirits may be deterred by his fate from following his example. Louis Charles of France and of Bourbon, second son of Louis XVI., King of France, and of Marie Antoinette Jos~phe Jeanne de Lorraine, Archduchess of Austria and Queen of France, was born at the palace of Versailles, at five minutes before seven oclock, on the evening of the 27th of March, 178g. The same day, he was baptized in the palace chapel, and was created Duke of Normandy, a title which no kings son had borne since the days of Charles VII.; and the event was greeted with the most enthusiastic exhibitions of delight by the whole court and people of France. On the 4th of June, 1789, his elder brother, Louis Joseph Xavier Fran ~ois, Dauphin of France (born October 22d, 1781), died at Ver- sailles. A sister had already been buried in 1787; and the sole offspring of the king now surviving were Louis Charles, by his brothers death become Dauphin, and Marie Th6r~se, who in later years was married to her cousin, the Duke of Angoub~me. At the period when the subject of this sketch first became Dauphin of France, he was a graceful, handsome boy of four years of age, with a fine forehead, and large blue eyes, fringed with long chestnut lashes and arched eyebrows; his hair, at this time blonde and curling, was already beginning to assume the light brown hue which afterwards it fully attained. He 18~34.] THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. 109 had the plump, ruddy lips of his mother, and, like her, a dim- ple on his chin. From infancy he had been an especial favor- ite with his parents; no pains had been spared in developing his precocious talents, and he could already read fluently and comment understandingly upon the books which were placed in his hands. The anecdotes that are related of him, even at this early age, betray a degree of delicate and refined compre- hension that cannot but interest us. One evening at St. Cloud, his mother was at the harp singing to her children some of the childish melodies of Berquin IDors, mon enfant, cbs ta paupk~re Tes cris me d~chirent le eceur; Dors, mon enfant, ta pauvre m~rc, A bien assez de sa donleur. In an infantile frolic, the Dauphin pretended to be asleep in his chair while the Queen sang. Ah! exclaimed Madame Elizabeth, laughingly, look at Master Charles, gone to sleep!~ At the word he sprang up from his feigned slum- bers: Ah, ma chere tante ! cried he; pent-on dormir quand on entend maman-reine? A score of such pleasing little an- ecdotes are recorded by M. de Beauchesne; but we must not dwell on these records of his earlier years, when his chief pleasnres were to sport about the gardens of Versailles, and to gather with the dawn fresh flowers to lay upon his mothers pillow ere she rose; his only pains, when the severity of the weather prevented him from taking his morning walk in the shrubberies, and gathering his trophies of filial love from the parterres. Ah, he would then say, I am so unfortunate! I have not earned to-day the first kiss of mamma!~ This daily custom clung to him through life, and was never aban- doned so long as there was ability to put it in practice: even the instinct clung to him in his dying hours. But a darker destiny was at hand; and the bright sunshine in which he had hitherto basked was too soou to be changed for black, lowering clouds and the bursting of the pitiless storm. The first positive impressions which the Dauphin could have received of the dangers with which his family had become environed were probably on the occasion of the tumults which succeeded the demolition of the Bastille (14th July, 1789): a voL. LXxvII1.~o. 162. 10 [Jan. 110 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUTS XVII. measure in which Lafayette and so many friends of liberty, whose thoughts were filled with the past horrors of that gloomy pile, rejoiced with so much fervor. They did not comprehend, that, instead of being a triumph over the king, it was a direct invasion of the sovereignty of the people; for the menibers of the Assembly, as they and all Paris knew, were at that moment the actual rulers of France. The kings name, so far from being any longer a tower of strength, had become a positive source of danger, as fatal as the breath of the upas- tree to all who sought its protection. The shadow of royal authority was indeed still kept up, but it was the Assembly or rather those of the people who governed the Assembly with whom all real power remained. We will not dwell upon the horrible sights and sounds which attended the memorable journey from Versailles to Paris, in October, 1789, when Lafayette, in the name of the nation, required the king to bring his family to reside within the walls of Paris; nor upon that awful night when Murder, with bran- dished torch and dagger, roamed wildly through the till then sacred chambers of the queen. We would pass over very briefly the events already sufficiently familiar to our readers, and come to details hitherto not generally, or but imperfectly, known. Lodged at the Tuileries, the IDauphin knew only in part the manifold causes of uneasiness that disturbed his parents. His education was continued under the direction of M. Hue, a man of cultivated understanding and devoted loyalty; and the gardens attached to the palace furnished some compensa- tion for those of Versailles. Other relaxations were presented to him. A company of lads, forming themselves into a volun- teer troop in his honor, were established by the government as the Regiment of the Royal Dauphin; and their accoutre- ments, discipline, and parades constituted a subject of no lit- tle excitement to their titular colonel. But meanwhile his mind was growing and expanding with his body, and the afflictions with which he was so soon to be visited were already shadowed before him. He could not long continue blind to the tears of his mother and the gloomy brow of his father. One day he was entreated by a woman, who ad- 1854.] TIlE LIFE AND DEATh OF LOUIS XVII. 111 dressed him in his little garden, to procure some favor for her. If I could only obtain it, said she, I should be happy as a queen. Happy as a queen! slowly repeated he; I know one queen who does nothing but weep. Daily suffering more and more from the excesses of the popular party, time passed on leaden wings with the family of the Tuileries, until, on the 20th of June, 1791, the flight to the army of M. de Bouill6, originally suggested by Mirabeau, was, when too late, undertaken by them. We all know how they were overtaken at Varennes, and triumphantly brought back to Paris. From that time, their position was no other than that of prisoners. The proposed flight had never been mentioned to the Dauphin; and it was not until eleven oclock at night, when he was, half asleep, taken from his couch and dressed as a little girl, that he received any intimation of the attempt which, it was fondly hoped, would remove him and his from the power of their adversaries. His sister asked him, as, but half awake, he gazed wonderingly at the strange prep- arations, what he thought was going on. I fancy, was the reply, that we are going to take part in a comedy, we are all so strangely disguised. He was wrong; it was a tragedy, and one of the most fearful kind, in which he was about to be an actor. Naundorf tells us that the nom du voyage borne by the pretended girl was Agl~e; but, as we shall presently see, no credit is to be given to any thing Naundorf has asserted. Hitherto, we have abstained from expressing any opinion upon the merits or demerits of either of the conflicting parties in the grand struggle that was going on. For all purposes of our present subject, it is not necessary to say which of the rival powers was entitled to the sympathy of our hearts or the approbation of our cooler judgments. But when, in Septem- ber, 1791, the whole form of the government of the kingdom was changed, and, by a Constitutional Act, proposed by the people and accepted by the king, a monarchy, limited to a degree hitherto unknown in political history, was adopted, the question becomes much simplified. So long as the king did not transcend the functions therein conferred upon him, the people in their turn were bound, if not to a permanent observance of their duties of submission to the constitution 4 112 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. [Jan. and laws, at least to an obedience in good faith to so much as should be found reasonable and just, and a peaceful, orderly effort to procure the abrogation of what clauses should in practice be found obnoxious. A violation of this principle was plainly a dishonest and unjust proceeding; but it was precisely the course followed by the French nation, or those who represented it. The 10th of August came, and with it the downfall of the monarchy. In vain had the queen en- deavored to interest in the prince royal (such was his title under the new constitution) the sympathies of the sworn supporters and defenders of the government, by enrolling him in the National Guard and causing him to appear in public in that uniform. Nothing could have induced the Assembly to do its duty, to obey the oaths it had taken to respect and support its own laws, to preserve the lives and liberty of those to whom it had so solemnly plighted its faith, save physical coercion. If, on the 10th of August, there had been a thousand men more in defence of the Tuileries, and the mob had been repulsed, the craven legislature would have bowed as reverently before the monarch as they actually did before the ruffians who drove him from the protection of his own roof-tree. Taking shelter with his family in the bosom of the Assembly, Louis XVI. was, by its orders, on the 13th of August, removed to the Temple. His regal authority was in the mean time annulled, and a National Convention was called, to provide for the future government of the people. The palace of the Temple had been erected about the close of the twelfth century, by the knights of that order stationed at Paris, and was built with a disregard of conveniences and an eye to strength and solidity alone, so that it was more worthy of the name of fortress than palace. It was originally composed of a heavy square tower, one hundred and fifty feet high, with walls in their least solidity nine feet in thick- ness. Each angle was flanked with a small circular tower, and on the north side was a projecting half-wing, surmounted with two smaller towers. This last portion of the building was commonly called the Little Tower, or, more commonly, the Tower of the Temple; and it was here that the royal family were to spend the remainder of their lives. There 1854.] THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. 113 were, as we have said, no conveniences of a dwelling-house to be found in this gloomy fortalice. For a very long time it had been neglected and suffered to fall out of repair; and surely the narrow portals, the heavy frowning doors, the wind- ing staircase, dimly lighted by a few loopholes cut in the thick wall, were enough to deter any man from seeking it as a domicile. A few hasty preparations had been made on the spur of the moment,for the reception of its new guests; but in the main, the building was as unhealthy, uncomfortable a prison as could, perhaps, be found in France. Lofty walls were speedily erected, to bar the scanty prospect which the grated windows might afford to the tyrant, and to cut off no inconsiderable portion of light and air. In short, nothing was wanting but fetters to make the condition of the prisoners as cheerless as possible. In a small antechamber, opening into the apartment allotted to the king, a guard was constantly posted; and a glass door was so arranged between the two chambers as to keep the monarch, by night and day, under continual surveillance. In two other chambers, the queen and her son, and Madame Elizabeth and Madame Royale (the usual style by which the future Duchess of Angoul6me had been known), were con- fined. It was only at certain times of the day that a meet- ing of the family was permitted. While yet their fate was undecided, many petty privileges were allowed them that were afterwards revoked. There was some attempt at neat- ness and propriety in their table; they were permitted, once or twice, to walk outside of the wall, in a neighboring garden, under strict guard; and books were furnished them. But the king mainly occupied himself with continuing the educa- tion of his son, who already wrote and composed with some skill and fluency. A more worthy employment he could not have found, or a more apt and intelligent pupil. Foremost of all, he sought to impress the sublime truths of religion upon the mind of the boy; and the daily examples of charity, resignation, forgiveness of enemies, and submission to the Divine Will, were evidently not lost upon him. For it was not long that, even in their dungeons, the royal family were to escape the bayings of their tormentors. Crowds of frantic 10* 114 [Jan. THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. ruffians would environ the Temple, and howl forth impreca- tions upon the heads of their helpless victims. Bursting open the prisons where other captives were detained, and murder- ing without remorse innocent men, helpless women, and de- fenceless priests, they would drag the dismembered bodies in triumph to the fatal Tower, and display them merrily before the eyes of their sovereign. It was thus that the head of the beautiful Princess de Lamballe was thrust into the sight of her bosom friend, the queen; whose shrieks of agony, as she fell back swooning at the horrid sight, were answered with yells of laughter from the crowd below. To add to their troubles, the sum allotted by the nation for the support of its prisoners was scantily paid, or not at all; and they began to suffer for want of the common necessaries of life; and erelong, the almost total separation of the unfortunate Louis from his wife, his children, and his sister, was decreed. Then ensued the mock trial of the king before the National Con- vention, and his condemnation. On the night of the 20th of January, 1795, he took his last farewell of his son, embracing him tenderly, and bidding him swear to observe his dying re- quest to obey dutifully and tenderly the behests of his mother, and never to think of avenging his fathers death. On the following morning, at twenty-two minutes past ten oclock, that father perished on the scaffold. M. de Beauchesne gives a curious account of an attempt to rescue Louis at the very moment of his approach to the guillotine, that we do not remember to have seen in print be- fore. The whole of this daring scheme was the sole concep- tion of the Baron de Batz, a stout loyalist and a most danger- ous conspirator against the peace of the new government. This man, while he rivalled in fierce courage his ancestor, Ma- naud de Batz, who saved the life of Henry of Navarre at the capture of Eauze, and who made it his boast that, in the battles of Cahors and of Coutras, he was never farther dis~ taut from his king than the length of his halberd, far excelled the worthy Huguenot in astuteness and cunning. If he had a hand to execute, he had also a head to plan. During the trial of the king, the Baron had concerted his plot, and had taken every possible step to carry it into successful operation. 1854.1 TIlE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. 115 He had secured the services of fifteen hundred or two thou- sand sturdy loyalists, and, acquainting each one with the duties assigned him, dismissed him till the day of trial. His idea was a very simple one, and, but for an unforeseen occur- rence, would doubtless have been crowned with victory. At a certain point in the route from the Temple to the guillotine, there were several streets all opening into a vacant space; through this open space the procession was to pass. The conspirators, mingling in the crowd, or advancing in scattered groups down the various streets, with such arms as would best answer the purposes of a close combat, or could be most readily concealed about their persons, were to be on the alert for an outcry, and, the instant the signal was given, to fall on the guards immediately surrounding the kings carriage. It seemed almost impossible that, in the turmoil that would in- evitably ensue, the monarch should not be rescued and hur- ried off to an appointed place of concealment, crc the van and rear of the long, unwieldy column of troops, in whose centre he was placed, could arrive to the relief of their com- rades. But the plotters reckoned without their host. Al- though there is no reason to believe that the government had received any intimation of this design, yet there were other causes to put them on their guard; and accordingly, at the eleventh hour, a proclamation was made all over Paris, by which all the young men, without exception, unless other- wise employed by order of the Convention, should assemble at their respective quartiers, at a certain time on the morn- ing of the 21st. Two lists were then to be made out, one of the absent, the other of the present; and it was ordained further, that every absentee should, ipso facto, ~e treated as a traitor. Then, under orders of the leaders assigned to them, each body was compelled to assume and retain a certain position till the execution should be completed. This meas- ure utterly disconcerted all the well-laid plan of De Batz. Though there was no time left to communicate with his coadjutors, and he knew not how many of them would be able to evade the summons they had received, De Batz deter- mined to be at his post. Between the quadruple ranks of armed men that lined the streets, the melancholy cortJge slowly pro- 116 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. [Jan. ceeded along the Boulevard, till it arrived opposite the Porte Saint-Penis, placed on the highest part of the boulevard de Bonne-Nouvelle. Then or never was his opportunity. Sud- denly drawing his sabre, and cutting right and left, as he pierced the bristling hedge of bayonets that stood between himself and the royal prize, he shouted fiercely and loudly: A nous, Fran~ais! ~ nous, ceux qui veulent sauver leur Roi ! Alas for his hopes! His friends were scattered here and there at long intervals through the streets of Paris, unable for a moment to quit their posts, or even to hear his words. But three men obeyed his call, and, striking about them like mad- men, in frantic desperation sought to save their king. A moments struggle showed them the futility of their efforts, and, unseconded by another arm, they ceased to combat and strove to make their escape. De Batz, who must have borne a charmed life, and another by the name of Devaux, succeed- ed, and disappeared in the crowd; but not before they had beheld their two comrades cut down and torn to pieces before their eyes. Who these two gallant young men were, nobody has ever known; IDe Batz could not ascertain, and their secret has perished with them. Yet surely it was as reckless a feat of hardihood, and for as high a stake, as ever won deathless fame for the names of spirits not more bold and equally un- successful! Immediately upon the reception of the news of the execu- tion of Louis XVI., such of the French loyalists as were in a position to safely avow their sentiments hastened to pro- claim his son as lawful heir to the vacant throne; and Mon- sieur, as the late kings brother, the Comte de Provence, was styled, issued his proclamation from llamm, in Westphalia, in which he announced that, under existing circumstances, the regency, during the minority of the young prince, was vested in himself ; and this decision was generally acquiesced in by the e1nio~re~s, and by the various courts of Europe. Nor was the expression of sympathy on the part of the foreign powers confined entirely to mere lip service, and to customary suits of solemn black. The first notice that the Court of St. James took of the notification it received of the catastro- phe of the 21st of January, was to present his passports to 1854.] THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. 117 M. de Chauvelin, the French ambassador, who left the country upon the moment. But any notice of the struggle about to ensue between these two gigantic rival states would be irrelevant here. Suffice it to say, that the royalty of Louis XVII. was speedily recognized by the chief nations of Christendom. Let us dismiss, then, from our consideration the struggles of the armies of Condo and of Vend6e, and the intrigues of foreign diplomacy in support of the royal cause, to contemplate the condition of this unhappy child after his fathers death. During the whole night of suspense and agony on the 20th of January, 1793, the last occasion upon which Louis XVI. was seen by his family, the queen and her daughter and the Princess Elizabeth, crouched together upon a single mattress, passed the time in wailing and in bitter fears. With the earliest dawn, they renewed their efforts to obtain a last interview with the king; the Dauphin, with all the importunity of childhood, besought his gaolers to permit him a single moment with his father. It is needless to say that no favor of this kind was granted. Nor was it long crc the salvos of artillery and the shouts of the populace announced that there was no longer room for even hope. 11he feet of Louis XVI. were treading that dark valley whither so many of his family were so soon to follow him. That day was consumed by the captives in giving free scope to their anguish, despite the incessant espionage to which they knew that they were subjected. At nightfall, slumber, that last solace of the wretched, fortunately steeped for a time in oblivion the woes of the child; but no such re lief visited the sad eyes of the bereaved wife and sister. Seated together, they watched by the bedside of their charge, on whose face the sweet smiles of pleasant dreams were al- ready playing. Struck by the unwonted sight, his mothers. mind reverted to those days, always so precious to a mothers heart, when she held upon her knees her eldest born. He is just the age of his brother who died at Meudon, cried she. But happy are those of our family who have gone before! They are spared the misery of the survivors. When, in the morning, Marie Antoinette sought to impress more strongly 118 TILE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. [Jan. upon her sons soul the necessity of placing all his hopes in God, the poor child answered, Mamma, I have tried my best to think of the good God: but whenever I call up a thought of Him, the image of my father is always present before me. After her husbands death, the queen, fearful of a renewal of the insults to which she had been hitherto subjected, or, more terrible still, of a rencontre with some of those stern guards whom she had beheld leading forth the king to the hall of judgment, had confined herself entirely to her chamber. There, surrounded by her children, and in the necessary cares which their situation imposed, she spent her days. The Com- missaries of the Commune were constantly in attendance; and among their number it was not an unusual thing to find men who, at heart, were not ill-disposed towards their pris- oners. One of these, M. Lepitre, had, on the 7th of Febru- ary, presented secretly to the queen a copy of verses appro- priate to her circumstances. Three weeks after, when, on the 1st of March, he resumed his charge, he was astonished to listen to his own words, arranged to music by Madame Cl6ry, and sung by the Dauphin, while the Princess Royal accompa- nied him on the harpsichord. The words of this song, it may be premised, are supposed to be spoken by the young prince. LA PIETE FILIALE. Et quoi! tu pleures, 6 ma m~re! Dans tes regards fixes sur moi Se peignent lamour et leffroi: Jy vois ton ~me tout enti~re. Des maux que ton fils a soufferts Pourquoi te retracer limage? Puisque ma m~re les partage Puis-je me plaindre de mes fers? Des fers! 6 Louis! ton courage Les ennoblit en les portant. Ton fils na plus, en cet instant, Que tes vertus pour h6ritage. Tr6ne, palais, pouvoir, grandeur, Tout a fui pour moi sur la terre; 1854.] TIlE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. 119 Mais je suis aupr~s de ma mare, Je connais encor le bonheur. Un jour, peut-6tre, lesp6rance Doit ~tre permise au maiheur; Un jour, en faisant son bonheur, Je me vengerai de la France! Un Dieu favorable A ton fils, Bient3t calmera la temp~te: Lorage qui courbe leur t~te Ne d6truira jamais les us. Helas! si du poids de nos chaines Le ciel daigne nous aifranchir, Nos cornrs doubleront le plaisir, Par le souvenir de nos peines. Ton fils, plus heureux quaujourdhui, Saura, dissipant tes alarmes, Effacer la trace des larmes Quen ces licux tu verses pour ml ! The princes voice had not much compass, but its intona- tion was very good; and in the occasional relaxation afforded by its exercise, and in the cultivation of the other mental and moral endowments of the two children committed by God to their charge, the queen and Madame Elizabeth found their only solace. Nor is it going too far to say, that, in more than one instance, these faithful women preferred to leave their own lives in the hands of their enemies, rather than abandon the custody of their tender pupils. It was about this period that Toulan, one of the commissaries on duty, a hot republican, bnt touched with pity at the moving scenes daily enacted before his eyes, formed a plan for the escape of the queen and Madame Elizabeth. By the aid of M. de Jarjayes, a faithful but concealed servant of the crown, a plot was arranged so skilfully that there seems little room to doubt that Marie Antoinette in a few short hours might have disappeared, not only from the Temple, but from the soil of France. But at the eleventh hour, the sight of her son, from whom she was about to be separated, perhaps for ever, recalled her mind to other reflections, and she refused to depart. I will remain here, where there can be nothing worse than danger, said 120 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. [Jan. she: better death than remorse. The note which she found means, through Toulan, to transmit to M. de Jarj ayes, is one of the most interesting memorials of her imprisonment that the care of M. Chauveau-Lagarde has given us. Nous avons fait un beau rave. Voila tout. Mais nous y avons beaucoup gagn~, en trouvant, dans cette occasion, une nouvelle preuve de votre entier d6vouement pour mol. Ma confiance en vous est sans homes. Vous trouverez toujours en moi du caract~re et du courage; xnais 1inter~t de mon fils est le seul qui me guide. Quelque bonheur que jeusse ~prouv6 ~t & re hors diei, je ne peux consentir ~ me s~parer de lui. Je ne pourrais jouir de rien sans mes enfants, et cette id~e ne me laisse pas m~me un regret. But the hour was rapidly approaching when she was to be parted for ever from her son, as she had been from her husband. The rage and jealousy of the actual rulers of France, turning from the corpse of Louis, hesitated for a while which of the survivors to strike next. The avowal of their design by the royalists to elevate Louis XVII., by force of arms, if necessary, to the throne, certainly rendered it natural enough for the Con- vention to keep a watchful eye upon their prisoner. Various occurrences in Paris itself kept this feeling alive. There is an old volume ~of prophecies, such as were at one time very pop- ular in Europe, entitled JJlirabilis Liber, qui prophetias revo- lutionesque, necnon res mirandas preteritas, presentes, ac fu- turas, aperte demonstrat, the authorship of which is variously attributed to St. C6saire, Bishop of Arles, who died A. D. 344, and to Jacques de Nostre-IDame, father of the celebrated Michael Nostredamus, whose predictions and prophecies have long been a theme of popular marvel the world over. Be- tween the years 1498 and 1324, there appear to have been no less than six or eight editions of this Liber Mirabilis; so there is no room to suppose it to have been an imposture, trumped up for the occasion, in 1793. Some unlucky bibliophile was so imprudent as to call the attention of the public to this pas- sage in the volume, which certainly is curious enough: fuvenis captivatus qui recuperabit coronain ijiji, spake the seer, fundatus, destruet fihios Bruti. The young captive who will recover the crown of the lily, being re~stablished, shall destroy the sons of Brutus. Vague as this language 18~54.] TIlE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. 121 was, it was sufficient to provoke the proscription of the book and the arrest of its possessors. Van Pra~t, who seems to have been the original cause of its unexpected notoriety, was obliged to conceal himself from the police until the excite- ment died away. The records of the period, however, furnish other and more melancholy instances of the dangers that sur- rounded the partisans of the young king. The Courrier Fran9ais of April 30th, 1793, mentions the execution of a dentist named Boucher, condemned for having cried, Vive Louis X VIL! au diable la R~publique! Indeed, every day made the situation of the royal family and their friends more dangerous. The flight of Dumouriez, the execution of his colleagues, Generals Miasinsky and Dc- vaux, the fall of the Girondins, all seemed to tend to the com- plete triumph of the Mountain, and the consummation of its designs. A new project of escape from the Temple was then set on foot, and it was now intended to embrace all of the captives. The life and soul of this conspiracy was no other than our old acquaintance, the Baron de Batz. With him was joined one of the members of the municipality, charged with the surveillance of the Temple, by the name of Mi- chonis. It is a marvel how IDe Batz managed to preserve his incog- nito so successfully in the very heart of the hostile camp. At this epoch, however, he was lodging at the house of one Cor- tey, a grocer, a man noted throughout Paris for extreme opin- ions and republican zeal. By means of a golden key, most probably, Dc Batz not only found a secure resting-place in his dwelling, but gained a knowledge of many of the most secret plans of the government, betrayed to him by his venal host; and he did not even hesitate to communicate to him all the details of his proposed conspiracy, in which Cortey himself was soon inveigled to take a decided share. In time, it be- came the latters turn to assume the command of the guard at the Temple. His company, consisting of thirty men, he man- aged to constitute in such a manner that its members were all prepared to assist in the proposed enterprise. Among them IDe Batz himself, under the assumed name of Forget, was present. The plan was to smuggle into the royal apartments, voL. LxXvIII.No. 162. 11 [Jan. 122 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. by the intervention of Michonis, equipments similar to those worn by the guard. In these the ladies were to be attired, and, mixing with the soldiery, to depart with them from their prison. The sentries on guard were prepared to see nothing, while Louis XVII., wrapped in a large cloak, was to endeavor to pass unobserved in the midst of the troop. Of course, all this was to take place under cover of the night. Michonis, whose turn it was to watch the royal chamber, was to help the prisoners out of their dungeon, while Cortey, in his capacity of commandant, was to secure their passage through the outer gates. Once in the street, their safety was assured. The patrol in the vicinity was even prepared to suffer the carriages in waiting to pass without interruption. The eventful night arrived. It was already nearly mid- night, and all seemed to go well. For some time Michonis had been left alone on duty in the prisoners apartment. Four of his colleagues were sitting tranquilly in the council-cham- ber, and Simon, the sixth and most to be dreaded, had been absent from the Temple for more than an hour. In half an hour the guard was to be changed, and in the ranks of the retiring company the captives were to escape. Suddenly, with hasty steps and loud exclamations, Simon, who seemed born for the destruction of Louis XVII., entered the room. His first words were to command the appearance of all who were on duty. It is lucky that I see you here, he exclaimed to Cortey; without your presence, I should have felt ill enough at ease! He then exhibited an order from the Coun- cil that Michonis should surrender his duties on the moment, and immediately present himself before the Commune. With apparent readiness and tranquillity, Michonis at once obeyed the command. In the first court of the building, he encoun- tered Cortey. What on earth is the matter? Make yourself easy, replied the grocer; Forget is gone. In fact, the presence of mind of IDe Batzs landlord had saved his life. The instant that Simon had turned his back on the guards, in order to ascertain the presence of the pris- oners, Cortey, on some frivolous pretence, hurried a patrol of eight men into the street, of whom but seven returned. The whole thing was managed so quietly and naturally, that no 1854.] THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. 123 one, not even Simon himself, suspected that in that single instant the most dangerous and active conspirator in France had slipped through his fingers. Who it was that betrayed the plot is still a mystery. The only clew we have to the cause of Simons suspicions (for, after all, they probably amounted to nothing more) lies in the fact, that, about 9 P. M. that night, a gendarme had picked up near the Temple a note without signature or address, and con~ taming only this language: Michonis will betray you this night; be on your guard! Placed in Simons hands, the latter carried it at once to the Council, and procured the order to which we have referred. But nothing further was discovered at the time: Michonis was shrewdly questioned, but was at last discharged. Simon, disappointed in the result of his accusations, carried his complaints to Robespierre, his patron, and erelong the result of their common machinations was made manifest. On the 1st of July, 1793, the Committee of Public Safety ordered that the son of Capet should be separated from his mother, and placed under the control of a guardian, to be chosen by the General Council of the Commune. This measure, sanctioned by the Convention, was carried into exe- cution, July 3d, under circumstances of the greatest barbarity. At ten oclock at night, as the queen and her sister were seated by the bedside of the slumbering boy, occupied in mending the garments of the family, and the young Maria Theresa, placed between them, was reading aloud, a violent clamor arose at the door. Six municipals at once boisterously en- tered, and without prelude communicated their order to take away the child. These tidings, totally unexpected, caused the utmost anguish and surprise to the unhappy family. With tears, with prayers, they implored at least a small res- pite. The Dauphin himself, awakened by the tumult, clung trembling to his mothers bosom, and besought her not to leave him. All was in vain. Violence had already been unsuc- cessfully offered, when the commissaries, annoyed but un- moved at the resistance they experienced, summoned up a turnkey to separate by main force the child from its mother. At length they succeeded; the poor infant was dressed and 124 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. [Jan. prepared to be removed. Ignorant of his destiny, ignorant even whether they should ever be permitted to see or hear each other again, (for the commissaries, fit executors of such a decree, refused the least answer to her queries,) the mother and queeu summoued up all her energies. Her tears ceased to flow; not a sob interrupted her parting words to her son. My child, we are about to be separated from each other. Be mindful of your duties when I am no longer at your side to recall them to you. Never forget the God who has tried, nor the mother that loves, you. Be wise, patient, and good, and your fathers soul in heaven will bless you. Still the poor child clung to her knees, and refused to be taken away, till with harsh words he was dragged violently from the cham- ber, and the door closed between them for ever. Escorted by the turnkey and the six commissaries, Louis XVII. was conveyed to that part of the Temple formerly oc- cupied by his father, where, in a half-lighted room, he was left alone with a man of rude appearance and forbidding manners. Antoine Simon was robust and somewhat above the usual height, squarely built, with a swarthy complexion, and wild, dark locks. He was a native of the city of Troyes, and was at this time not far from sixty years of age; his wife, a short, cor- pulent, coarse creature, was not unworthy of such a mate. It was through the intervention of his patrons, Marat and Robe- spierre, that his present office, with a salary of five hundred francs a month, was conferred upon Simon: but at the same time, the General Council of the Commune annexed to it the rigorous conditions, that, by day or by night, he should not for a moment lose sight of his prisoner, or on any pretext what- ever quit the Tower of the Temple in which the latter was confined. Then, to endure for a period of six months, com- menced the most odious and disgusting persecution that is recorded in the history of modern times. There can be no doubt of the object for which a brutal shoemaker was chosen to be the sole guardian and instructpr of the only son of the last king of France; it was his complete degradation, mental, moral, and physical. If the child fell under the weight of his new burdens, and yielded up his puny life, so much the bet- ter. But if, contrary to their wishes and anticipations, he 1854.] THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. 125 should survive, it should be only as an idiot or a madman. To this end all the energies of his keeper were devoted. By day and night, the sound of his clamorous oaths, his drunken orgies, and his harsh blows upon the trembling flesh of his shrinking charge, echoed through the Tower. Louis XVII. had been educated by his parents with an aversion to all intoxicating drinks, equalled only by a purity of language and innocence of ideas remarkable even in a child. One of the earliest tasks of Simon was to force him, even by blows, into a state of drunkenness, and to compel him to repeat and sing the most loathsome and obscene words and songs. All knowl- edge of their mutual fate was carefully kept from the prince and the rest of the royal family. To his dying hour, Louis had never been told of the execution of his mother, but be- lieved her still locked up in the chamber whence he had been torn from her bosom. All the world is acquainted with the story of the trial of Marie Antoinette. Though her death was a foregone con- clusion, it was considered necessary by her murderers to pre- serve some appearance of legal forms in the process of her conviction. Fouquier-Tinville, the public accuser, informed the Convention, on the 5th of October, 1793, that he possessed not a tittle of evidence upon which to base the least charge against her. Being as thirsty for the blood of the Austrian she-wolf (as the queen was now styled) as the most fero- cious sans-culotte in the Hall of the Jacobins, this unscrupulous man resorted to a scheme unparalleled, let us hope, in the annals of crime. On the 6th of October, by the means of his keeper, Louis was made intoxicated at an early hour. A committee to take his deposition was introduced; a series of questions, prepared by a scoundrel named Daujon, the import of which was plainly unknown to the prisoner, were addressed to him, which he was forced to answer Yes or No, as he was bade, and to subscribe as his persecutors commanded. To the nature of this paper, we will not even allude, When, on her trial, it was produced and read against the queen, shame, decency, and indignation sealed her mouth. But when the prosecution adverted to the fact of her silence, and sought therefrom to infer her admission of the truth of the monstrous 11 * 126 TIlE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. [Jan. crimes with which she was therein charged, she glanced like an angry lioness at her judges. If I did not answer, she exclaimed, it was because Nature refuses to reply to such an accusation: I summon as a witness every mother in this hall! Condemned and sentenced, almost her last moments were passed in writing to Madame Elizabeth, adjuring her not to cherish any feelings of unkindness towards her son for the horrible falsehoods to which he had so unwittingly put his name. Dragged to the place of public execution, she main- tained in every gesture, in every look, the dignity of the daugh- ter of Maria Theresa of Hungary. The constitutional priest in attendance sought to use the usual forms of speech em- ployed on such occasions. Your death will expiate Many faults, sir, interrnpted the queen, but not a single crime. And when he bade her summon up her courage, ~ she answered, I have served for too many years a hard apprenticeship, to believe that my courage will fail just at the moment when my sufferings are to end. Her hands igno- miniously and painfully bound, her beautiful tresses, once the pride of the two mightiest courts of the Continent, now white with sorrows and shorn by the hangmans shears, she was still every inch a queen. Once only did her firmness give way. As the procession passed through the Rue Saint-Honore, an infant, raised aloft in its mothers arms, merrily nodded its head at her, and, in child fashion, blew kisses to her from its baby hand. At this scene, the queen burst into tears. Kneel- ing on the place where her husband had died before her, she gazed for one instant upon the palace of the Tuileries, then murmured fervently her dying prayers. A moment more, and her gray, discrowned head rolled upon the scaffold. Mter his mothers death, which was studiously concealed from him, Louis continued to undergo the same iniquitous treatment from Simon as before. When in a good humor, this monster would entertain himself by teaching the child to curse and swear, to smoke tobacco, to sing obscene songs, or to get drunk upon brandy or fiery wines. But when, as was more frequently the case, he was angry or intoxicated, only blows and kicks marked his notice of the child. Once Simon detected him saying his prayers, as he knelt in his couch. 1854.] THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. 127 Stealing slyly behind him, he inundated the bed and child with a pail of cold water. Then, with blows and jeers, he compelled him to lie down again, and sob through the winters night as best he could. To obey the commands of his gaolers without hesitation, and tamely to perform the menial duties of the apartment, even to blacking the shoes of Simon and his wife, was all the education that the French Republic could afford to Louis XVJL To learn to read and write was not among the objects for which he had been incarcerated. At last, his health gave way, and his strength was no longer sufficient to perform the servile tasks to which he had become accustomed. Simon also was discontented with the enforced confinement of his post. Under these circumstances, it was determined to effect a change. It was decreed that Simon should be permitted to surrender his charge, and that no suc- cessor should be appointed. Accordingly, on the 19th of Jan- uary, 1794, this wretch, in company with his wife, after for- mally bestowing his parting curse upon his prisoner, finally left him and the Tower that had so long been the uncom- plaining victim and the silent witness of his sin. The Council did not attempt to find a successor to Simon. They had hit upon a plan far better calculated to accomplish their malevolent designs. On the 21st of January, 1794, the anniversary of the day of his fathers death, Louis was for- mally subjected to solitary imprisonment for the remainder of his fading life. His cell was the chamber formerly occupied by Cl6ry. The entrance was from an antechamber, through a low, small door, breast-high, heavily bolted and locked, with a wicket of stout iron bars, secured by an enormous padlock, through which was thrust his daily food. The air of heaven never penetrated his gloomy dungeon. The light of day faintly made its way throngh the barred windows over the dense skylight. Fire and lights were never allowed to the prisoner. The pipe of a stove in the antechamber, passing through his cell, furnished all the warmth it ever received; the reflection of a lantern through the wicket of the door was the only ray that cheered its gloom. The occasional glimpse of his keepers face was the only aspect of humanity that greeted his eyes. 128 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. [Jan. Outside of his prison, events were succeeding each other in such startling and awful rapidity, as for a season to withdraw public attention from his condition. On the 24th of March, Wbert and eighteen of his companions were sent to the guillotine by their brother assassins. On the 16th of April, Danton and fourteen of his leading partisans succeeded them. Dillon, and a score more of the spirits that had hitherto exer- cised such a controlling influence over the lives and liberties of others, had already paid the penalty of their crimes. The universal offence alleged against all was the design to restore the monarchy. Then commenced the Reign of Terror. Blood flowed like water among the vine-covered hills and gay val- leys of France, and thousands of her children fell before the all-devouring axe. Young men and maidens, gray heads tot- tering to the grave, fair young children, innocent even of the comprehension of the allegations under which they died, all were swept along in one indiscriminate slaughter. The dogs of Paris literally fed upon the streams of human blood that ran in its kennels. In contemplating this hideous picture, however, one is struck with its constant exhibitions of retrib- utive justice. The tyrant of to-day is the victim of to-mor- row. In the language of Madame de Stai~l, a progressive gulf yawned behind each leader of the people; the instant that he halted or took a step backwards, he was swallowed up. Among the thousands who were slain as royalists, there was a large proportion of men to whom royalism should never have been attributed; men whose hands were steeped in the life- blood of the king and the queen, and whose arms were wea- ried with slaying the adherents of the exiled house. On the 9th of May, 1794, about seven oclock in the evening, (it will be noticed how careful was the Convention to make even the hours of the day subservient to its barbarity, by selecting the most unusual times for dragging its victims to the altar,) Madame Elizabeth was taken from her prison. No satisfac- tion was given her, by those who separated her from her niece, as to the fate destined for either of them. Commending the child to the care of the Almighty, the princess departed. With twenty-four others, many of them of her own sex, and all, we believe, royalists, she was sent to the guillotine. The records 1854.] THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. 129 of the time tell how, as each rose to go to execution, he or she made a profound obeisance to the sister of their late sovereign. At the last, her own turn came, and her sufferings found their end. In his silent, dark dungeon, Louis XVII knew nothing of all this. Of the death of his mother he was still kept pro- foundly ignorant. He heard not the shouts of the mob that led his aunt to her death, nor the yells that greeted that fa- mous cort~ge of the 17th of June 1794, when Robespierre and Fouquier-Tinville condemned to death par amalgame et en masse, to use their own phrase, almost every suspected royalist of note that they could lay their hands upon. Noth.. ing transpired to break the cruel monotony of his afflictions. No books, no useful or idle toys or employments to wile away his time, were permitted him. His sole occupation was to make up, as best he might, the straw bed from which he rose in the morning, and to remove from the wicket the daily pittance of food provided him. His allowance consisted of a miserable sort of coarse broth, of which he received a scanty quantity twice a day, a piece of bread, a slice of meat, and a jug of water. No one entered his apartment to inquire into his wants. The Commissary charged by the Commune to visit the Temple, and report the presence of the prisoner, would come to his wicket and satisfy himself in silence, or, if he spoke at all, it would only be to pour obscene impre- cations upon that youthful head. Other persons, even the turnkey who carried to and fro the coarse earthen-ware vessels that contained his food, were forbidden under pain of death to have any conversation with the captive. The condition into which Louis XVII. fell, under these circumstances, was truly horrible. His already debilitated frame soon found itself unable to bear up against the new tortures to which it was subjected, and it sank beneath the load. Erelong, sickness laid its cold hand upon him; his strength began to fail; even the task of cleansing his chamber, and of arranging the garments upon his person or his bed, was not always within the compass of his feeble powers. Oftentimes, burning with fever, he would lie stretched upon the couch from which he had not vigor to rise, his lips 130 TILE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUTS XVII. [Jan. parched with thirst, his eyes vainly fixed, upon the water-jug placed at the wicket. Oftentimes, in the attempt to drag his trembling limbs to procure the food or drink for which he had languished for hours, he would fall senseless upon the cold. floor. iDay by day, his body was succumbing beneath the strokes that, constant and heavy, fell upon it; day by day, alas! his mind was giving way beneath the weight of this unnat~al, inhuman solitude. He no longer sought to con- tend with the rats and the mice that played fearlessly upon his bed, and ravished his food from his very hands. Odi- ous vermin increased in his filthy chamber: great black spi- ders crawled unheeded over his person. Every thing is alive in that room, said Caron, the cook, who brought his food; every thing but perhaps the only human being it con- tamed; he possessed there but a brute existence. His body had not been washed for months, his clothes and his bed- linen were in the same foul state. If ever it has happened to a man, crc yet the soul hath left the body, to taste of all the horrors of the grave and the loathsomeness of decay, to say unto corruption, Thou art my father, and to the worm, Thou art my mother and my sister, such was the lot of this royal child. But a term was drawing nigh to the tyranny of Robe- spierre. On the 27th of July, 1794, Barras, appointed com~ mander of the armed force which had on the evening before repulsed Henriot and the supporters of Robespierre, visited in form the different posts of the city. At the Temple, he paused to double the guards, and to recommend the strictest fidelity in their duty. It was then and there that he selected Laurent, a native of St. Domingo and a member of the Revo- lutionary Committee of the Section of the Temple, to be the special guardian of the children of the late king. Aged but about thirty-five years, Laurent was not at heart a bad man. His republican zeal, it is true, was too apt to blind him to the existence of a single good quality in one not of his own way of thinking; but his manners were good, his understanding far from feeble, and in the main, he was in- finitely superior to most of his associates. But this same 27th of July known in history as the 10th Thermidor 1854.] THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. 131 was signalized by events far more starling than the mere changing or doubling of the keepers of the Temple. It was on this day that ilobespierre, Couthon, Ilenriot, and St. Just, with many other minor celebrities, were hurried to their doom amid the hootings and execrations of that very populace by whom they had been so lately adored. Among their names appears that of Antoine Simon: this infamous ruffian, clothed in the identical carmagnole in which he had so often appeared at the Temple, survived the commission of his barbarities only long enough to behold the man that raised him from his native muck-heap as powerless to defend himself as he was to protect his supporters. As the fatal car slowly wound its way through the throng that surrounded it, a man decently clad burst through the crowd. Seizing hold of the car, he contemplated for some moments and in silence the hideous spectacle of Robespierre, covered with dirt and with blood, his jawbone broken in the ineffectual attempt at suicide, and one eye hanging from its socket. He uttered no reproaches to the culprit, but in solemn, calm tones repeated these words, fraught with terrible meaning to the guilty soul so soon to appear before its offended Master, Oui, ii est un Dieu! Thus, in the thirty-fifth year of his age, justly perished Maximilian Robespierre. iDanton and Marat had preceded him. It is a curious circumstance, that so many of the most important victims of the French Revolution were persons young in years, though old in suffering or in sin. Madame Elizabeth was but thirty years of age when she was slain; Marie Antoinette but thirty-eight; Louis XVI. himself but thirty-nine. How short their span of life would have appeared, had its confines been known at the com~~ mencement of their career! how long, ere they reached its close! Let us return to the Tower. The first duties of Laurent, on entering upon his office, were to visit his youthful charge: and the effect produced upon his mind by the condition in which he found the prisoner and his dungeon was overpower- ing. He at once demanded of his masters an official inquest into the case. On the 31st of July, a deputation from the Committee of Public Safety visited the Temple. Through 132 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOtTIS xvii. [Jan. the wicket, they called upon their captive. He made no re- ply. They then ordered the wicket to be opened. A work- man forced away the bars, and erelong the keys arrived and the door was unfastened. With strong disgust they entered the filthy cell, reeking with putridity. There, crouched on a bed of dirty rags, they discovered a child of scarcely nine years of age, scantily clad in foul, tattered raiment, his face wan and pale with misery, his shoulders and head bowed down towards his breast, his discolored lips and his wrinkled cheeks giving still greater prominence to his wan, lustreless eyes, sunk deep in their hollow sockets, and every ray of ani- mation or intelligence banished from his countenance. His head and his neck were covered with purulent sores; his legs, thighs, and arms, crooked and meagre, were unnaturally long at the expense of his body; his wrists and knees were swollen with discolored tumors; his feet and hands, with nails as hard as horn and long as talons, no longer resembled those of a human being. Every thing that pertained to his person bore the seal of squalor and degradation. For the first time, Louis had fallen into the hands of a keeper who was disposed to exercise some degree of human- ity. Laurent caused him to be conveyed to another chamber, whilst this one should be purified and measures taken to pro- cure a better ventilation. Why do you take so much trouble with me? murmured the child; I have but one wish, and that is to die. The aid of the physician and the nurse was invoked to cleanse his body from its disgusting parasites, but the touch of the comb or of the finger applying unguents was too painful to be endured. Another circumstance evin- ces the humanity of Laurents feelings. Since the days of Simon, the child had been called by no other name than Capet, a name which certainly did not belong to him, and which could only serve to induce ill-will: his new guardian, from the first, addressed him as M. Charles, and this form was thenceforth generally followed. Still, it must not be sup- posed that Laurents ability to serve his charge extended be- yond the mere increase of his personal comforts. Occasion- ally, it is true, as a great favor, he was allowed to take him for a short time in the evening to walk upon the platform of 1854.1 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. 133 the Tower. There he once or twice discerned a few scattered weeds growing from the soil lodged in the interstices of the walls; with eager, trembling hands he culled their yellow blossoms, and, mindful of his early hours at Versailles, sought to form a little nosegay for his mother. On descending the staircase, in lieu of proceeding, as usual, to his own room, he hurried to the closed door of the chamber in which he be- lieved the queen to be still confined; Laurent had not the heart to tell him of her fate, and the child was led back to his own room. These little courtesies of their agent were hardly known to the Committee of Safety: it was sufficient for them, however, that the prisoner still survived, for until he should cease to exist, they knew he would be a nucleus and a rallying-point for the most dangerous part of the royalist fac- tion, who, remaining in France with professions of democ- racy on their lips, were at heart, either from principle or feeling, devoted to a monarchical government. The prince was there- fore kept as carefully immured as ever; only his downward path to the grave was no longer strewn so thickly with briers and thorns. Wearied out with the incessant fatigue of his novel duties, Laurent erelong applied for an assistant; and on the 8th of November, 1794, through the unsuspected intrigues of the Marquis de Fenonil, M. Gomin, a loyalist at heart, though a man of a character too weak to be aught else to the outside world than a good republican, was appointed to the post. Gomin and Laurent were thus enabled often to relieve each other in their duties, and, under their care, every thing in their power was done to promote the prince s comfort. Once Gomin managed to smuggle to him four little pots of flowers in full bloom; once, on the 25th of January, 1795,so violent a storm of wind and rain prevailing as to drive the smoke down the chimneys of the upper rooms and make the atmosphere in the chamber of Louis XVII. almost unbear- able, it was agreed by his guardians and the other commis- saries, for their own comfort, to bring the little prince down stairs to dine with them all in the council-chamber of the Temple. It is true, that on this occasion, as on many others when members of the Convention visited him in. their official voL. LXxvuI.No. 162. 12 [Jan. 134 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. capacity, he was subjected to reproaches and brutal language on account of his origin and his resemblance to his mother, as well as for the unconquerable aversion he ever testified to the songs and toasts in which he was commanded to join, and of which, of course, the burden was the wickedness of his father and the impurity of his mother; but, nevertheless, the change was intended by Gomin as a relaxation. In the Convention, however, the death of the son of Louis XVI. was resolved upon. Spain, Sardinia, Tuscany, in vain made fruitless efforts for his release, and that of his sister. The tribune resounded with the fiercest invectives against him; and it is only a wonder that he was not despatched as had been his parents and aunt. Nothing, probably, but a per- fect conviction that a few months more passed in his rigorous confinement would inevitably bring him to his bier, prevented the leaders of the Convention from taking this atrocious step. When, on the 23d of March, Collot paid him a visit of in- spection, he turned about to his comrades, after a minute examination of the physical state of the boy, and coolly ob- served that he had not two months longer to live. Laurent and Gomin, shocked at such a speech made in the hearing of its subject, endeavored to turn aside its meaning. I re- peat, said Collot, that within two months this lad will be an idiot, if he be not a covpse! A bitter smile played upon the childs lips, and his eyes filled with tears; turning to Go- mm, he only remarked, And yet I have never done any in- jury to a single person. A few days after this, March 31st, 1795, Laurent retired from his office, and Etienne Lasne, an ancient member of the National Guard, was appointed in his place. Fortune again befriended the captive in giving him a gaoler who at least would treat hiffi like a human being. Lasne was not a stranger to the Dauphins person; he had often, when on guard at the Tuileries, beheld the royal infant sporting on the terrace or playing in his little garden. For- tunately, this man, as well as Gomin, survived to our own days, the former dying only in 1841, and the latter about the same date, and we are enabled to rely upon their testi- mony as upon that of eyewitnesses. On entering the chamber, said Lasne, I recognized his 1864.J THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOTUS XVII. 13~ Majesty instantly: his head was not changed; it was marked by the same beauty that had always distinguished it: but his complexion was pale and sallow, his chest narrow, his arms and legs long and thin, and huge swellings disfigured his right knee and his left wrist. From that time, while Gomin attended more particularly to Madame Royale, Lasne de- voted himself, less as a gaoler than as a servant, to the Dauphin. He caused the bed furniture to be removed and cleansed; he sought to divert the loneliness of the Tower with music. Gomin was but an indifferent performer, but he pro- duced his old violin, and gayly played an accompaniment to his comrades songs. One of the chief favorites with the prince was the ballad supposed to be sung by the faithful Blondel to his captive lord, in the then popular opera of Richard C& ~ur-de-Lion : 0 Richard, ~ mon Roi, Lunivers tabandonne. At other times, Lasne would turn the conversation to the scenes of earlier and happy days. They spoke of the little regiment called the Royal Dauphin, in whose maneuvres the prince formerly so much delighted, and of the box of domi- nos, beautifully carved from the ruins of the Bastille, which, on the 21st of May, 1791, his fellow-soldiers presented to their youthful colonel. On the back of each piece was en- graved a letter in gold, so that, arranged together, the whole presented the words: Five le Roi! Five la Beine et 31. le Dauphin! The case was made of a single piece of marble, and on its lid appeared this quatrain : De ces aifreux cachots, la terreur des Francais, Vous voyez les debris transform6s en hochets; Puissent-ils, en servant aux jeux de votre enfance, Du peuple vous prouver lamour et la puissance! Poor child! he had been since taught bitterly how great was the power of the people; but as for their love, the less said on that subject the better. By such souvenirs of the past, an occasional smile was brought to the languid lips of the dying boy; but nothing could now serve permanently to dispel the gloom that had settled on his soul, and those lips [Jan. 136 THE LIFE AXD DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. were soon to be sealed for evermore. Lasne and Gomin had not ceased for several days to apprise the government of the failing strength of their charge, but no attention was paid to their reports. At last, when they declared that there was every probability of his dying on their hands, M. Desault, a distinguished physician, was, on the 6th of May, 17%, author- ized to visit him professionally. The only means which, to this practitioner, appeared at all likely to produce even a temporary improvement in his patients health, were to trans- port him forthwith to some retired, tranquil spot in the coun- try. This proposition was held inadmissible by government, and all that remained was to pnrsue a course of treatment which could do neither good nor harm, beyond perhaps reliev- ing for a few short hours his sufferings. His sister, and his ancient tutor, M. Hue, were both apprised of his state; but their urgent applications to be with him and to assist him were obstinately denied. Desault, however, continued to attend him faithfully and daily, although he was not permitted to follow any procedure in his treatment inconsistent with the closest confinement. It was about this time that a com- missary, named Bellanger, took an opportunity of sketching a portrait of Louis XVII., an engraving from which ornaments M. Beauchesnes volumes. Shortly after his death, the like- ness was reproduced by Beaumont, and, twenty years after, by the royal factory of porcelain at St~vres. At this crisis happened an event which so many of the pretended Dauphins have made the groundwork of their fables. On the 1st of June, MI. Desault died suddenly at his residence. The cause of his death was a very natural one; yet rumor and scandal haye delighted to whisper, that, having administered a slow poison to the prisoner in the Temple, he was poisoned himself by those who had com- manded the crime. To refute such a ridiculous story would be running a tilt at a windmill. But one thing remains certain. Desault had formerly attended the royal family and was familiar with the children; and he not only recognized the Dauphin on his first introduction into the Tower, but never, to his dying moments, entertained the least suspicion that the person whom he was attending was not the veritable son of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette. 1854.J TIlE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. 137 In consequence, however, of Desaults demise, M. Pelletan, the most distinguished surgeon in Paris, was charged, June 5th, with his late duties. All that this gentleman could effect, however, was the removal of the child, now scarcely able to move his limbs without assistance, into a better chamber. Pelletan continued the mild prescriptions of his predecessor, and doubtless wisely. From day to day, they saw the oil gradually exhausted from the lamp of life, and the flame burning dimmer and dimmer. The long, lonely nights, for from 8 P. M. to 8 A. M. no one was allowed to be with him, more than any thing else, depressed the spirits of the patient. Always alone, he sobbed, always alone; my mother is locked up in the other tower. Gomin turned the discourse on the misfortunes of others. Naming a commis- sary who had made himself particularly obnoxious to the prince, he mentioned that he was now in prison and in danger of his life. I am very sorry for him, was the reply, he is so much more unhappy than I; he has deserved his misfor- tunes. The 8th of June, 1795, arrived, the last day of his life. The bulletins of the physicians during the morning announced that there was no reason to expect that he would survive the day. Towards afternoon, he appeared to be quietly sinking into the arms of death. Gomin knelt by his side, and poured forth his sympathizing soul in long and silent prayer. The child took his hand and pressed it to his lips. When Gomin raised his face, he found his hand still closely pressed in its fond em- brace; but on the face of the Dauphin there rested an air of such celestial beatitude, his features so rapt in immovable attention, that for a moment he hesitated to speak. At length he whispered, You do not any longer suffer so much pain? 0 yes, I suffer still; but I do not mind it so much, the music is so lovely! There had been no music either in the Temple or its neighborhood; not a sound had disturbed the repose of the lonely, seqnestered chamber in that summer noontide. With a sudden convulsive movement, the boy raised himself up on his fevered hands, his large blue eyes expanded to their utmost limits and sparkling with ecstasy. Gomin, scarce daring to breathe, gazed wonderingly at the 12 [Jan. 138 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. spectacle. After some moments of absorbed attention, the child again trembled all over with emotion; his eyes fairly danced with delight, and in accents of unbounded transport he cried out, Au milieu de toutes les voix,jai reconnu celle de met mere! Lasne entered to relieve Gomin. The prince lay absorbed in thought. Do you think my sister conld have heard the music? whispered he; then, suddenly beck- oning Lasne s ear down to his lips, he added, I have one thing to tell you . These were his last words. At a quarter past two oclock on the afternoon of Monday, the 8th of June, 179.5, the heart of Louis XVII. ceased to beat. Between the dates of his death and burial, many members of the government and the Committee of Public Safety came and examined the corpse, to verify the fact. On the 9th of June, a post-mortem examination was made by Dumangin, Pelletan, Jeanroy, and Lassus (the most distinguished of the Parisian faculty), by order of the Convention. They reported carefully all the symptoms which characterized the case, and pronounced the death of the child to have been caused by a long-seated scrofulous disorder. But their phraseology is in one place so ambiguous, as to demand a moments attention. We examined, say they, the corpse of a child apparently about ten years of age, which the commissaries informed us was that of the son of the late Louis Capet, and which two of us (Dumangin and Pelletan) recognized as that of the child whom we had attended for some days. Ou this point, the argument that Louis did not really expire at the time and place above mentioned has frequently been made to rest. The physicians, it is urged, would else have plainly stated the body to be his, without all this circumlocution. We frankly admit, that, under ordinary circumstances, such a beating about the bush in the statement of a simple fact would look suspicious; but we must remember that, in those days, it was as much as a mans neck was worth to make any positive assertions on this subject. Suppose the surgeons had simply avowed their knowledge that the corpse was that of the Dau- phin. The next question might have been, How did they knowit? The inference that they must have had secret inter- 1854.] THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. 139 views with him through his confinement might have brought their heads to the guillotine. What was the construction put on their language at the time, by the Convention, by the Royalists, by the Republicans, by all the foreign powers? Without exception, they all believed it to signify nothing short of the death of the young Louis. The connection of M. Lassus with the royal family of France, and of M. Jeanroy with the house of Lorraine, certainly leaves no room for doubt, that, if they had entertained any suspicions of the identity of the corpse, they would, when succeeding times had made it perfectly safe for them to do so, have communicated their sentiments to persons so nearly interested in the truth. Still further, MM. iDumangin and Pelletan were men of the first reputation; they both survived till after the Restoratioii; they had both attended the prince in his last sickness, and had minutely observed his conduct and appearance; and neither of them, throughout his career, entertained or expressed the least notion that their patient had been any other than Louis XVII. In performing the autopsy, Pelletan had secreted and carried away the childs heart, and IDumangin saw him do it; and twenty years after, the one avowed the fact, and the other his complicity. These things show conclusively, that nothing can be deduced from the report of the physicians in support of the pretensions of the tribe of pseudo-IDauphins. Our narrative respecting Louis XVII. is now drawing to a close. The last scene of all, that ends this strange, eventful history, alone remains to be told. The tidings of the death in the Temple had spread far and wide; everybody in Paris had the news, save only the sister of the dead child, the sole survivor of his family. Whilst his corpse was hurried, under cover of the night, to its nameless grave, this fair young girl in dreams, perchance, beheld herself united to the brother whose last words had borne her name to the father, to the mother, and the scarcely less beloved aunt, whom she still believed to be alive. Whatever sympathy the fate of her brother excited, there was but little manifestation of it. A solitary woman, with a bunch of faded flowers in her hands, weeping, sought the gates of the Temple, and entreated per- mission to place upon his bier the blossoms the prince had 140 [Jan. THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. given her when he made her sit down, years before, in his little garden at the Tuileries. She was driven away.* On the 10th of June, after darkness had fallen upon the city, a small cort?ge escorted the mean coffin which contained his remains to the burial-ground of the church of Sainte-Mar-~ guerite; there, in an unknown grave, was inhumed the corpse of the boy-king. His earthly crown had been but one of thorns; let us believe that, among the just made perfect, he changed it for a heavenly one, of a lustre unfading and that passeth not away. We have spoken of the belief of the physicians that Louis XVII. had died; to this might be added the convictions of everybody who had any thing to do with the captive in the Temple. Louis XVIII. and his government never entertained the shadow of a doubt upon the question. Gomin, the faith- ful and attached commissary, who had charge of him for nearly a year, until he died, and who, on account of this fidelity, be- came a favored servant of Maria Theresa, afterwards Du- chesse d Angoul~me, was satisfied of the fact. Lasne solemnly confirmed these views in his statement made but a few years since. He had long been familiar with the person of the Dauphin, he says, before he became his keeper; his acquaint- ance dated back to a period antecedent to his confinement; and he never for a moment doubted that the unfortunate prince had died in his arms. Even the inscriptions upon the walls of his cell testify, circumstantially, it is true, but with some force, to the fact of the identity of the prisoner with the son of Marie Antoinette. Under Napoleon~ s reign, the scene of so much wickedness and oppression was removed from the sight of men; in 1811, the tower of the Temple was destroyed, and the main building was materially altered and appropriated to other purposes than those of a prison. Immediately after the release of Maria Theresa, however, and her surrender by the French government to that of Austria, a throng of visitors sought the chambers where she and her family had so long * Next the heart of an aged officer, shot for heing engaged in the Quiheron affair, was found a locket containing a withered rose, almost reduced to dust. The locket bore this inscription: Donna par Monseigneur le Ekeup/Lin, ~ Paris, le ler Aoit, 1790. 1854.] THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. 141 been immured. On the walls of the Dauphins chamber were plainly visible these words, written in his own hand, though the trembling letters betrayed the writers debility. lVliaman, je vous pr The remainder of this childish prayer was effaced by the rude hand of Simon.* As a little piece of cor- roborative testimony, this is worth something. Surely there is little reason to suppose that a supposititious child, of imma- ture reasoning powers, and but a few days old in his part, could have so well imitated the writing and the turn of thought of the son of Marie Antoinette. It must not be thonght, however, that all France has con- tinued to acquiesce in the belief of the Duchesse d Angou- lame, and of all the royal family, that her brother had perished in his captivity. Neither must it be supposed that Mr. Wil- liams stands alone in his pretensions. At various intervals, there have sprung up nearly a score of interesting claimants to the honors and dignities of Louis XVII. Mr. Williams has had at least eighteen predecessors; and if the public has any doubts as to the fact of the death in the Temple, it is certainly at full liberty to pick and choose for itself among the ranks of the whole troop; and we are free to confess that some of them present a far more imposing aspect in their tales than the pro- t~g6 of Mr. Hanson. To the career of one or two of the most conspicuous of these pretenders, we purpose devoting a few pages. * We have rarely heard of more touching inseriptions than those left in their cells by the different members of the royal family. In that of Maria Theresa was found the following: 0 mon plre, veillez sur nsoi (]U kaut de ciel. And in the embrasure of a window where she was wont to sit, Mere de douleers, priez pour noes; and a little lower, Regina martyrem, ora pro nobis. In Madame Elizabeths chamber, she had written these invocations from the Litany : Per agoniam et passionem team, Libera nos! Per mortem et sepelturam team, Libera nos! In the apartment of Marie Antoinette were these verses, from the Imitation de .I~ses Gkrist, written ona panel of the door: La gloire que le moede doene et refoit passe en en moment, et die est toujours seine de tristesse. La gloire des bons est does lefond de leer caur, et non dans la boeclie des hommes. La joyc des jestes est de Diec et en Dice; leer joyc est dans la v~rit~. 142 TIlE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. [Jan. The first, in order of time, of these aspirants to regal honors, was the son of a petty tailor of the hamlet of St. Lo, in the de- partment of La Manche, named Hervagault. This lad, a dissi- pated, insubordinate fellow, had run away from his parents in September, 1796, and for some time succeeded in palming himself off on the credulity of the loyalists of the neighbor- hood of Cherbourg as the son of an emigr~ noble, till at last he was thrown into gaol as a vagabond. Being thence reclaimed by his father, in October, 1797, he again made a moonlight flitting, and on this occasion, arriving at Ch~ilons, he boldly announced himself as the Dauphin. His story was received with abundant faith by the simple-hearted portion of the royalists in that town, and he was loaded with gifts. Un- fortunately, however, for himself he came under the cogni- zance of the ministers of justice, and was sentenced to a months imprisonment, as a vagabond and rogue. Never- theless his votaries still clung to his story, even in despite of a sentence at Vire to two years in gaol on the same grounds that had wrought his conviction at Ch~dons. A certain Madame Seignes, a lady of some quality, was his main stand-by. At her house he fairly held a little court, and in every respect lived en prince. The story put forward by this impudent impostor was as follows. Under the regime of Laurent, he said, his health was so materially impaired by the treatment he had undergone at the hands of the barbarous Simon, that the nurse in charge of him determined on smuggling him out of the Temple envel- oped in a huge bundle of linen, leaving in his stead an infant purchased for the purpose from venal parents. From Passy, whither he was at first taken, he was speedily removed, in female garb, to Belleville, the head-quarters of the Vend6an army, constantly preserving a strict incognito. In the mean time, the fraudulent Dauphin left in his stead at the Temple was discovered by M. Desault the physician: and in conse- quence of this inopportune revelation, both doctor and pa- tient were drugged by those interested in preserving a con- cealment of the evasion, and died off-hand. And to set this story upon perfectly safe ground, the pretender assured his auditory that the base man who had so unpaternally sold his 1854.] TILE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. 143 offspring to a lingering captivity, or to assured death, was no other than a very rascally little tailor at St. Lo, by the name of Hervagault! From La Vend6e, our fortunate Dauphin, according to his story, crossed over to England, where he was the favored gue~t of George III., who after a season furnished him with a national vessel to bear him to Ostia, armed with an in- troductory letter from that Protestant monarch to his Holiness the Pope. The Sovereign Pontiff gave him the kindest re- ception, declared his willingness to crown him on the spot as King of France and Navarre, and, by way of taking a bond of fate and fixing his identity beyond all future cavil, branded him with a hot iron in the presence of no less than thirty cardinals, who contemplated this ingenious proceeding with unspeakable emotions of religions fervor and holy joy. On his right leg was thus sacredly impressed the royal shield of France, with the three fleurs-de-lis; on his left arm, the initial letter of his name, and the device, Five le Roi! Leav- ing Rome, he passed by way of Leghorn and Barcelona into Portugal, where the queen of Portugal received him no less graciously than old King George had done. A match was speedily projected for him with a so-called Lady Benedictine, of the blood-royal of Braganza, and widow of the Prince of Brazil. A coalition of nine sovereign powers was likewise brought about by this useful queen, with no other object than the restoration of the Dauphin to the throne of his ancestors. At this moment, continued our hero, he was called by his partisans at home to repair to France, to head the rebellion of the 18th Fructidor. Hastily taking leave of his be- trothed, he flew to his native land., There, finding the hopes of his friends blasted, he sought to pass from the coast of Normandy to the English isle of Jersey. Wandering about the country the while, he was seized and thrown into the Cherbourg gaol, from which time his adventures were known to all the world. When the first report of this cock-and-bull story reached the ears of the princess Maria Theresa, at that time sojourn- ing at the Austrian court, it caused her a momentary anx- iety. She was herself fresh from her dungeon; it was just [Jan. 144 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. possible that her brother might have been equally fortunate. One little circumstance in his story, however, soon sufficed to convince her of the falsity of the whole. After the events of the 9th Thermidor, he declared that his condition had been much improved; he was no longer separated from his sister, but Madame Royale was permitted to share his con- finement and participate in his amusements. Of course, that lady knew too well how utterly untrue all this ~was, to attach the least importance to the rest of his story, every syllable of which was, beyond doubt, absurdly false. 8till, in spite of the cold incredulity of his relatives, a host of believers in the soi-disant Dauphin thronged about him, many of them of much respectability, and he was treated by them as every inch a king. Finally, he was so unlucky as to attract the attention of the First Consul. It is known that Bonaparte was disposed to deal with the impostor summarily, as a state criminal; but acting on shrewder advice, he caused him to be prosecuted merely as a swindler. The trial took place before the Tribunal of Justice, February 17th, 1802, and the prisoner wa~ declared to be no other than one Jean Marie ilervagault, and was condemned to four years imprisonment, from which sentence he appealed. The most earnest and important of Hervagaults adherents was M. de Savines, cx- Bishop of Viviers, a visionary, credulous, wrong-headed man. This person undertook to find for his newly-discovered sover- eign a bride worthy of his rank, and found one in a beautiful and accomplished young lady of IDauphin6, the daughter of a legitimated son of Louis XV., and therefore of tolerably pure Bourbon blood. The condescending bridegroom, forget- ful of his ancient troth plighted to the Princess of Brazil, gave his consent. But his wooing was cut short by an in- supportable calamity; his sentence was confirmed, and he was locked up within the prison of Rheims. It is needless to follow the history of Monsieur Hervagault much further. His adherents, headed by the Bishop of Viviers, kept up such a commotion about him that, at one time, according to M. Alphonse de Beauchamp in his Life of Hervaganlt, even the astute Fouch~ thought it worth while to recommend to Bonaparte to acknowledge his claims, and 1854.] THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUTS XVII. 145 cajole or extort from him, at the same time, a solemn renun- ciation thereof in the Emperors favor. Another policy was followed; the Bishop was seized and shut up in a madhouse for the rest of his life, and Hervagault was transferred to the Bic3tre, the foulest common gaol of Paris. His term of imprisonment having expired, he served for some time with credit on board of a man-of-war; but again running away to play his old r6ie of the wandering prince in Lower Brittany, he was once more arrested by government, and sent to the Bic6tre for life. On his dying pallet, the priest in attend- ance adjured him to make his peace with Heaven by con- fessing the impostures of which he had been guilty. I shall not appear as a vile impostor in the eyes of the Great Judge of the universe, was the answer. These were his last words. So far as persistence in a story goes, his is entitled to due weight, for he brazened it out to the end. Playing at Dauphin was evidently a lively trade, and the tailors lad did not lack imitators. One of the most success- ful of these was Maturin Bruneau, the son of a maker of sabots (wooden shoes for the peasantry), dwelling at Ve- zin, in the Department of the Maine and Loire. He was born in 1784; in 1795, he had already become a vagrant and dissolute outcast: his parents were dead, and his nearest kin- dred had tnrned him out of doors. His first feat was to ob- tain charity according to the well-known system of those days, by representing himself to be the son of an emigr! no- ble. The chateau of the Seignenr de Vezin had been plun- dered and burned, and the Barons son was at that moment actually in England. Brnneau straightway made free with the name of the young exile, and in that capacity was enter- tained and nurtured for a year in the chateau of Angrie, belonging to the Vicomtesse de Turpin de Criss6. The arrival of M. Charles de Vezin, the Barons brother, put an end to this imposture; and about the year 1797, Maturin dis- appeared from the neighborhood. In 1799 and 1800, we find him engaged with the Chouan Royalists in their rash under- takings. In 1803, he turns up again in gaol, whence he pro- cured his discharge by entering into the marine artillery. In 1806, being on the American coast, he deserted from his ship, VOL. Lxxviii. NO. 162. 13 146 TIlE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. [Jan. and worked in Philadelphia for a season, as a journeyman baker; and finally, after various wanderings in both the Americas, returned to France, under the assumed name of Charles de Navarre, in 181~3. Shortly after his arrival at St. Malos, he found himself mistaken for a young soldier named Philippeaux, supposed to have died or been captured in Spain. Favoring the blunder, he hailed the widow Philippeaux as his mother, made himself welcome in her house, and erelong squandered the bulk of her little fortune. The success of this enterprise encouraged him to fly at higher game. De- serting the Philippeaux family, he boldy proclaimed himself to be Louis XVII. Fortunately, this point is susceptible of easy demonstration. Bruneau declared he was present at the Vend~ari fight of Aubiers. This took place in 1793, at which date we know the Dauphin was in the Temple. This circum- stance, however, did not prevent a large accession of true be- lievers; and while the police took the impostor off to prison, his friends spared no effort to make his confinement as com- fortable as possible. Gifts poured in from every side, and vows of adhesion. Violent efforts were made to drag the Duchesse d Angoul~me into the controversy; but, assured in her own mind of the audacity of the hoax, that princess re- fused even to examine the tale, or to grant an interview to her would-be brother. The upshot of the matter was, that, after having deluded no inconsiderable number of persons, and to a pretty handsome tnne, onr adventurers identity was settled by means of the Vicomtesse de Turpin, who at once recog- nized him as the scapegrace that had formerly so successfully abused her hospitality. He was tried and condemned as a swindler and a cheat, and sentenced to seven years imprison~ meint ; and this is the last we know of the adventures of Ma- turin Brunean. The history of Naundorf, a third claimant, (an account of whom, edited by Mr. Percival, is now before us,) is the most curious of all. If there were no other reasons, the reception he met with in Paris and London, from many of the most distinguished gentry, would suffice to call attention to his case. This person had, for some time, been publishing his tale with little success; and it was not until 1832, when 1854.1 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUTS XVII. 147 the house of Bourbon had been for the third time hurled from the throne, and Charles X. and his family were quietly so- journing at Prague, that it began to make much noise in the world. Naundorfs story was to this effect. He declared, in the first place, that he was the Dauphin Louis Charles, who had been confined in the Temple; that in November, 1794, he had been smuggled out of his cell in a basket of linen, and concealed in another chamber, while a wooden effigy, made to resemble him, was left in his place; and that this image was subsequently exchanged for a deaf and dumb child, provided by Barras and Madame Beauharnais, afterwards the Empress Josephine! Naundorf said he finally made his escape from the Temple in the hearse which conveyed the body of the poor child who had been put in his place. In support of his pre- tensions, he produced many letters, some of them doubtless genuine, from his immediate supporters; others, of doubtful authenticity, from historical characters who had passed from the stage; whilst some of the most important were plainly forgeries. His story contained many particulars that might have excited the suspicions even of the credulous. He subse- quently enlisted in the army, and was terribly wounded in the head at Stralsund, in 1810. At last he settled down to watch- making a trade at which he possessed some skill at Bran- denburg, in Prussia, where he occupied his leisure in concoct- ing letters to the Duchesse dAngoul~me (his alleged sister), the Duchesse de Bern, and the king, and in wedding the daughter of a Prussian corporal. At length, in May, 1832, he found his way, in a destitute condition, to Paris. Being recommended to apply for charity to the old Comtesse de Richemont, he announced himself to this zealous old lady as the Duke of Normandy. With very slight cavil, his story was received. He was installed in magnificent apartments, his wife and children were sent for by his partisans, and throngs of the ultra-loyal votaries of the ancien regime hastened to avow their faith in his pretensions. Whatever evidence he brought to support them, he must have managed his game well. Spon- taneous tribute, at the rate of a quarter of a million of dollars per annum, was laid at his feet by many of the most respect- able inhabitants of the Fauboung St. Germain; and for a sea- 148 THE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. [Jan. son the Duke of Normandy was all the rage in Paris. After a time, however, the bubble burst. Escorted in a very arbitrary style by the police to Calais, he was, in 1838, dis- missed from France, and took up his residence at Camberwell, near London. Here he employed himself in making experi- mental essays in pyrotechnics, and invented some improve- ments in destructive missiles, which elicited warm approbation from the Woolwich Board of Ordnance. He never desisted, however, from the assertion of his legitimate right to the throne of France, and was very indignant at the manner in which he had been treated by Louis Philippe. To add to the doubts excited by his reception in Paris, the repeated attempts made to assassinate him in England came with puzzling effect upon the minds of those who took an interest in his history. On the 10th of August, 1844, however, he died at Delft, in Holland, whither he had previously retired. There is a very ready way of exposing the falsity of Naun- dorfs tale. He alleged, that, when he was confined with his family in the Temple, Marie Antoinette and the Princess Elizabeth had written together some lines upon a paper, which they then severed, giving one part to the Duchesse dAngou- lame (then Madame Royale) and the other to himself, with an injunction to preserve the pledge carefully, as a means of mu- tual recognition should they ever be separated. When we meet, wrote Naundorf to the Duchess, I will produce the half corresponding to that which you possess. It has never been out-of my possession since our fatal separation! It is needless to say, that the whole story of such a paper having been written, if there is any faith to be placed in the assevera- tions of the Duchess, was utterly and impudently false. In fact, it is by means of this lady that the fortunes of the mock Dauphins have invariably been wrecked. Marie Th6r~se Charlotte, the eldest child of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoi- nette,was born on the 19th of December, 1778, and died on the 1~th of October, 1851. Distinguished through life for her religious zeal, her charities, her clear understanding, and the almost bigoted veneration she entertained for the memory of her fellow-captives in the Temple, it is impossible for us to believe this woman would have stooped, on any occasion, to a 1854.1 TIlE LIFE AND DEATH OF LOUIS XVII. 149 falsehood which would have given the lie to the inmost prin- ciple of her life. An unflinching believer in the right divine of kings, an earnest nay, almost fanatical wor- shipper of the Church of Rome, she could not have wished to defraud her brother of his inheritance. What, then, are the facts of the case? We know that, on the 14th of October, 1793, at the trial of his mother, the Dau- phin was, in the presence of the whole Convention, confronted with his family. Up to that date, therefore, we clearly trace his presence in the Temple. It has never been denied, or even doubted, so far as we are aware, that he continued to remain under the custody of Simon until January 21st, 1794, when he was subjected to solitary imprisonment. If ever any child was substituted in his place, and the Dauphin surreptitiously removed from the Temple, it must have been during this pe- riod of seclusion. But we have never found reason to believe that such an evasion was possible. We firmly believe that the child whom Laurent took charge of on the 28th of July, 1794, was the same that had been locked up in the cell on the 21st of the preceding January, and was no other than the son of Louis XVI. Had Laurent entertained a doubt on the sub- ject, it would not have remained unperceived by his assistant, Gomin, the devoted servant of the royal children, who came into office November 8th, 1794. It is true, Nanndorf pub- lished a letter from Laurent, avowing his complicity in a pro- posed plan of escape for the prince; but Laurent had died long before this story was told, and the letter itself bears inter- nal evidence of being a forgery. Even the name subscribed is not spelt correctly. On the 31st of March, 1795, Lasne took Laurents place, and he and Gomin remained with the prince till his death. As we have before said, the one was familiar with his person; the other was the trusted, though secret friend of Marie Th6r~se, and both survived to a recent day. Is it likely that these men should have been deceived, or that, in their turn, they should have persisted in deceiving the person most interested in knowing the truth? Setting aside the possible change that, in later years, migkt have taken place in her feelings, certainly, at that time, his sister would have rejoiced more than any other person at the escape of the 13* 150 GROTES HISTORY OF GREECE. [Jan. Dauphin. But his conversation, his appearance, his manners, all preclude the idea that the prisoner whom Lasne and Go- mm attended from November, 1794, to the 8th of June, 1795, was any other than Louis Charles of France and of Bourbon, then the only son of Louis XVI. The conclusion, therefore, to which, in common, we doubt not, with every intelligent and impartial observer, we must inevitably come, is, that there is not one syllable of truth in all the stories of all the Dauphins. In saying this, we do not de- sire to impeach the good faith of the last of this tribe. We have no reason to suppose Mr. Williams does not devoutly believe in the truth of his own pretensions. He is, probably, the victim of a hallucination harmless in itself, and perhaps productive of some satisfaction to its subject. If this be the case, we are content to leave him in the full enjoyment of all the supposititious honors that attend his barren heritage, and venture to assure him that no one more readily than ourselves will welcome the appearance of proof sufficient to induce us to alter our present convictions. ART. VI. History of Greece. By GEORGE GROTE, EsQ. London: John Murray. New York: Harpers. (Vols. I. XI.) DURING the past century, the history of antiquity has been investigated with a zeal before unknown. Men have become aware that such investigation is not merely a dull research among the mouldering bones of a lifeless past, but an inquiry full of interest and advantage to the more important present. As the idea of political liberty is more widely diffused, and acquires every day new force and energy, the histories of the ancient republics, Athens and Rome, assnme an especial inter- est. We need them, both as a warning and as an encourage- ment. They have, however, been presented to us too exclu- sively in the former light. Especially has the dark side of Athenian liberty been held up by able historians, to exhibit

150 GROTES HISTORY OF GREECE. [Jan. Dauphin. But his conversation, his appearance, his manners, all preclude the idea that the prisoner whom Lasne and Go- mm attended from November, 1794, to the 8th of June, 1795, was any other than Louis Charles of France and of Bourbon, then the only son of Louis XVI. The conclusion, therefore, to which, in common, we doubt not, with every intelligent and impartial observer, we must inevitably come, is, that there is not one syllable of truth in all the stories of all the Dauphins. In saying this, we do not de- sire to impeach the good faith of the last of this tribe. We have no reason to suppose Mr. Williams does not devoutly believe in the truth of his own pretensions. He is, probably, the victim of a hallucination harmless in itself, and perhaps productive of some satisfaction to its subject. If this be the case, we are content to leave him in the full enjoyment of all the supposititious honors that attend his barren heritage, and venture to assure him that no one more readily than ourselves will welcome the appearance of proof sufficient to induce us to alter our present convictions. ART. VI. History of Greece. By GEORGE GROTE, EsQ. London: John Murray. New York: Harpers. (Vols. I. XI.) DURING the past century, the history of antiquity has been investigated with a zeal before unknown. Men have become aware that such investigation is not merely a dull research among the mouldering bones of a lifeless past, but an inquiry full of interest and advantage to the more important present. As the idea of political liberty is more widely diffused, and acquires every day new force and energy, the histories of the ancient republics, Athens and Rome, assnme an especial inter- est. We need them, both as a warning and as an encourage- ment. They have, however, been presented to us too exclu- sively in the former light. Especially has the dark side of Athenian liberty been held up by able historians, to exhibit 1854.] GROTE S HISTORY OF GREECE. 161 the rashness of the people and the ingratitude of republics, while the brighter and more pleasing side has been left to be profaned and rendered odious by unprincipled demagogues, who may have found it available, as in the French Revolution, to swell the flame of popular fury. It is this brighter side of Athenian liberty which Mr. Grote has endeavored to present, and to clothe with the dignity of history. He has ventured to retouch with a new purpose some of the lines which still remain as they were originally drawn by the comic pen of Aristophanes, and as they have- been reflected by hundreds of succeeding historians. Mr. Grote is peculiarly well fitted for the task. In his threefold experi- ence, as a man of business, a politician, and a scholar, he has acquired a more enlarged view of history and historical criticism than the mere scholar can usually attain. The vol- umes before us are particularly valuable as coming from the pen of an Englishman. Instead of drawing, like too many of his countrymen, an illiberal conservatism from his mother earth, Mr. Grote seems to have imbibed a truly liberal spirit, which never yet was wholly extinguished in the English mind, however much it may have been smothered by prej- udice. There are some who deny, not only to Englishmen, but to any one at the present day, the power of reproducing the his- tory of Greece. Our modern histories, it has been well said, are in great measure a series of essays, hardly belong- ing to the same species with the history of Thucydides. We must consider, as Mr. Grote has said, that our knowledge of the ancient world is only what has drifted ashore from the wreck of a stranded vessel; and the wonder should be, not that we present it so imperfectly; but that we are able to re- produce it at all. One of the leading characteristics of Mr. Grotes work is his view of the early myths, the Grecian foretime. The beautiful background of poetry and legend from which flows, almost imperceptibly, the pure stream of Grecian history, in which the religion of Greece took its rise, and in which the gods and the sons of gods walked among men, has usually been regarded by historians as furnishing at least the frame- 162 GROTE S HISTORY OF GREECE. [Jan. work of an authentic history of that early period. By the simple process of stripping the demigods and heroes of all that made them more than men, by rationalizing some mira- cles into highly colored statements of plain, every-day facts, and explaining others as later additions to accounts originally of perfect credibility, the Heroic Age has been reduced to a very tame and commonplace reality, remarkable only for its barrenness. Every individual and every incident, which could possibly inspire awe or awaken interest, have been carefully sifted out; the chaff has been preserved as the basis of his- tory, while the more valuable myths, so important in the his- tory of the Hellenic mind, have been suffered to lie neglected, or to occupy a place in the catalogue of heathen superstitions. We may, for example, find in the preface of Thucydides what would be called the historic basis~ of the Trojan war of the Iliad; and we may see the effect of the rationalizing pro- cess upon Herodotus, when we find him yielding to the argu- ments of the Egyptian priests so far as to accept the war of Troy in its general details, with the great exception that Helen was not present in the city, but remained in the hands of King Proteus during the ten years siege, and at last was carried ingloriously back to Sparta by her victorious husband. Thucydides is even more unsparing in his treatment of the legend. He does not hesitate to give his opinion that the Trojan war was a private expedition of Agamemnon, the various princes engaging in it rather in obedience to the king of men, than as disappointed suitors of Helen, bound by the oath imposed by Tyndarus. The Helen of the historians, we must also remember, is no daughter of Zeus, but the child of a human father, and displaying only human charms. It was with no such scenes as these that the poets and their true followers filled up the divine foretime of the Heroic Age. The ages of gold, silver, and brass had not given place directly to that of iron; but the earth had been visited by a fourth, an heroic race, before it was given up at last to frail humanity and the degenerate offspring of the iron age. This divine race of heroes had fought under the walls of Thebes and Troy. Their divine descent, their gigantic strength, their miraculous exploits, were as much realities to the faith of an 1854.] GT{OTE S HISTORY OF GREECE. 153 unphilosophic age, as were their names or their existence. Divested of their miraculous attributes, they would have appeared as strangers to the very poets whose lives were spent in celebrating their exploits; they could have claimed no place in tradition, and none of their proud posterity would have recognized in them the superhuman ancestors whom they had been taught to venerate. And yet these heroes existed only on the authority of these very poets and these very traditions. Can we be justified in setting aside the only form in which they appeared to those who believed in them, and substituting in its place some interpretation given by later historians, or perhaps some plausible idea of our own? This is the point upon which Mr. Grote comes to an issue with his predecessors. We are not warranted in applying to the mythical world the rules either of historical credibility or chronological sequence. Its person- ages are gods, hcroes, and men, in constant juxtaposition and recipro- cal sympathy; men, too, of whom we know a large proportion to be fictitious, and of whom we can never ascertain how many have been real The myths were originally produced in an age which had no records, no philosophy, no criticism, no canon of belief, and scarcely any tincture of astronomy or geography, but which, on the other hand, was full of religious faith, distinguished for quick and sus- ceptible imagination, seeing personal agents where we look only for objects and connecting laws ; an age, moreover, eager for new nar- rative, accepting with the unconscious impressibility of children (the question of truth or falsehood being never formally raised) all which ran in harmony with its preexisting feeling, and penetrable by inspired prophets and poets in the same proportion that it was indifferent to positive evidence. To such hearers did the primitive poet or story- teller address himself; it was the glory of his productive genius to pro- vide suitable narrative expression for the faith and emotion which he shared in common with them, and the rich stock of Grecian myths attests how admirably he performed his task. As the gods and the heroes formed the conspicuous objects of national reverence, so the myths were partly divine, partly heroic, partly both in one. The ad- ventures of Achilles, Helen, and Diomede, of EEdipus and Adrastus, of Melea~~er and Altkea, of Jason and the Argo, were recounted by the same tongues, and accepted with the same unsuspecting confidence, as those of Apollo and Artemis, of Ares and Aphrodite, of Poseidon and Herakles. 154 GROTES HISTORY OF GREECE. [Jan. The time, however, came, when this plausibility ceased to be com- plete. The Grecian mind made an important advance, socially, ethi- cally, and intellectually. Philosophy and history were constituted, prose writing and chronological records became familiar; a canon of belief more or less critical came to be tacitly recognized Into the new intellectual medium, thus altered in its elements and no longer uniform in its quality, the myths descended by inheritance; but they were found, to a certain extent, out of harmony even with the feelings of the people, and altogether dissonant with those of instructed men. But the most superior Greek was still a Greek, and cherished the common reverential sentiment towards the foretime of his country. Though he could neither believe nor respect the myths as they then stood, he was under an imperious mental necessity to transform them into a state worthy of his belief and respect. While the literal myth still con- tinued to float among the poets and the people, critical men interpreted, altered, decomposed, and added, until they found something that satis- fied their minds as a supposed real basis. They manufactured some dogmas of supposed original philosophy, and a long series of fancied history and chronology, retaining the mythical names and generations even when they were obliged to discard or recast the mythical events. The interpreted myth was thus promoted into a reality, while the literal myth was degraded into a fiction. Vol. I. pp. 604, 605. The preceding extracts contain a general statement of Mr. Grotes theory of the Grecian myths. It will be seen that he recognizes a mythopieic age; an age of poetry, when the primitive uncritical faith would accept whatever the poet might offer, to fill the shadowy background of the past with objects of veneration. It was an age of faith; the age of belief and the age of scepticism (which begin together) had not yet arrived. It must be borne in mind, that Mr. Grote does not abso- lutely deny the existence of any historical basis to all the Grecian myths. It is simply his aim to show that myths without foundation were often created by the imagination of the bard, and accepted by the faith of the hearer. This is a point not sufficiently noticed by those who oppose Mr. Grotes theory. Nothing could be more natural, than that many historical facts, so prominent as to be held in the memory of many generations, should be selected by the poet as appro- priate objects upon which to exercise his mythopceic faculty. 1854.] GROTE S HISTORY OF GREECE. 155 This may have happened even in the majority of eases; that is to say, we know nothing to the contrary; the great and only trouble in the question is, to determine how much of the whole mass of mythical and poetical legend has clustered around a point of real history, and then to ascertain what that point of history is in itself. This, in most cases, is abso- lutely impossible, unless we can obtain information in regard to early Grecian history from sources not at present accessible, and not open to the earlier historians of Greece itself. In speaking of the amended, rationalized version of the Trojan war given by Thucydides, Mr. Grote says Historical truth it would doubtless have been, if any independent evidence could have been found to sustain it. Had Thucydides been able to produce such new testimony, we should have been pleased to satisfy ourselves that the war of Troy, as he recounted it, was the real event; of which the war of Troy, as sung by the epic poets, was a misre- ported, exaggerated, and ornamented recital. But in this case, the poets are the only real witnesses, and the narrative of Thucydides is a mere extract and distillation from their incredibilities. The only course open, then, and the one which Mr. Grote has adopted, is to relate the myths as they were related to the Greeks themselves, and as they appeared to the eye of primitive faith. They must not be neglected, as they form an important chapter in the history of Grecian development. If they are simply related, with all their charm of poetry and romance, they present the Grecian foretime in the only man- ner in which it appeared to the Greeks themselves, while every one is at liberty to discover or imagine any traces that he can of an historical basis. Any such point of history, however, which may be discovered or imagined in the legend, must not be considered as investing with credibility even the plausible circumstances associated with it by the poets, still less as supplying an historical or even an allegorical founda- tion to the various legends which time has collected around it. It must only be considered as the point around which, perhaps accidentally, the mythopceic age has collected its legends, directed to one grand centre of interest. The war of Troy, for example, seems to us an actual fact, in its general statement, 156 GROTES IIISTORY OF GREECE. [Jan. Gr~cia Barbaria~ lento collisa duello; but it is not upon the authority (strictly speaking) of Homer, Thucydides, or Herodotus, that we accept it, nor should we consider any one guilty of unwarrantable scepticism, or of disrespect to the ancient writers, who should deny its exist- ence altogether. We accept it simply because we believe that such a clustering of myths, both divine and heroic, around a single point, such a concentration of interest, trans- ferred from the world below to the immortals on Olympus, must have been directed in its course by some memorable col- lision between Europe and Asia, which would awaken a more intense and more continued interest than any mere creation of the poets imagination could excite. We do not intend to abandon Mr. Grotes principle, or to make any exception to it in favor of the Trojan war. We consider the testimony of Homer to the fact, as of no more value than his evidence in regard to the councils of Olympus, or the rearing of the god of war. And if any one thinks it more probable that Homer and the cyclic poets adapted their rhapsodies to a purely imagi- nary war, rather than to one of the many actual conflicts which must have been known to them by the traditions of the past, he differs from us on a question only of probability, not of theory. To accept some actual fact, not as an historical basis of the myths of Troy, but as a point of direction by which its formation was guided, seems to us the more probable of two plausible probabilities. A cry is often raised against the mythical theory, on the ground that it destroys all the early history of antiquity. This is the cry which assailed Niebuhr, and which those who follow in his path need not fear to meet. Instead of destroy- ing the early Roman history, Niebuhr was the first to inspire it with life and reality, the first to enable us to behold, through the fables and legends of the kings and the early common-. wealth, the gradual formation of the Roman constitution. Mr. Grote has followed his great predecessor in most of his princi- ples of historical criticism, while in other respects he has adopted a somewhat different course. He rarely, if ever, admits allegory into his interpretation of the Grecian myths, excluding in his later edition many traces which appeared in 1854.J GROTE S HISTORY OF GREECE. 157 the former. Niebuhr, on the other hand, is often inclined to allegorize the Roman legends, even where he despairs of find- ing a literal historic basis. He suggests that Remus leaping over his brothers wall may be a personification of the plebs leaping across the ditch from the side of the Aventine; the contest of the Horatii and the Curiatii indicates, he says, that Rome and Alba were each divided into three tribes, while the statement that they were the sons of two sisters, and all born on the same day, contains a suggestion of a perfect equality between the two states.* We need not state what criticism Mr. Grote would make upon these sug- gestions. On the other hand, we shall find instances, when we come to the more authentic history of Greece, where onr historian even retreats from points of scepticism maintained by Niebuhr. After the early history of Rome had been placed in its true light by Niebuhr, the effect of his criticism was felt in all investigations of ancient history. His own researches into Greek history, to which much of his earlier labor was devoted, and the results of which are preserved in his Lectures, opened the way to more enlightened views and a more philosophical criticism. The early Hellenic world, however, possesses one advantage over the Roman as a field for investigation, where it has often been supposed to labor under peculiar difficulties. In regard to the early ages of Greece, we are sometimes told, we have only poems and acknowledged legends to rely npon, while Roman history from the earliest times has been trans- mitted to us on the high authority of Livy. If this were so, Rome might well claim the advantage; but since Niebuhr has shown us that the fancied early history of Livy is mostly rationalized from a body of ancient poetry, afterwards forgot- ten or ignored, we find the advantage belongs wholly to the other side. Here we have the Grecian epic, preserved to us in two immortal specimens, bearing witness of others without number, which have not survived the hand of time. If these had all perished, and we possessed merely the rationalized historic basis found in the historians, then would the two * Lectures on Roman History, Vol. 1. pp. 43, 45. VOL. LxXvnI.No. 162. 14 158 [Jan. GROTES HISTORY OF GREECE. cases of Greece and Rome appear on the same ground. The first book of Livy has always appeared plausible, because it presents, to a common observer, no appearance of having existed in a poetical form. But if we could obtain the his- tory of Livys predecessor, Fabius Pictor, and also the poeti- cal lays and legends upon which that early work was mainly founded, we could then criticize Livy upon the same princi- ples by which Herodotus and Thucydides are now criticized by the aid of Homer. This Niebuhr could do. He could reconstruct Fabius Pictor to his minds eye; he could read even in Livy the extracts from the Roman epics, and could tell us their names, while he quoted their very verses. We possess, then, in the case of Greece, the accounts of later his- torians accompanied by their original authorities, so that we can judge by the latter how much credit is due to the former; in the case of Rome, we have simply the accounts of the his- torians, apparently relying upon some authentic basis, but really depending upon the same support of poetical legend as those of Greece. In the case of Greece, then, there is less room for deception, even though her legends were afterwards interpreted into facts by her historians, as we may always appeal from the historian to his original authority. Mr Grote begins his account of Historical Greece~ with the first Olympiad, B. C. 776. This date he selects as being the earliest point to which any system of chronology can be traced. As there are many events below this date which par- take largely of the mythical, so there are others previous to it which must be included in authentic history. The first indi- vidual whom Mr. Grote admits upon his stage, as a man, is the great Spartan lawgiver, Lycurgus. In his sixth chapter, he gives a brief account of the institutions of Sparta usually as- cribed to Lycurgus, valiantly fighting his way through the mass of fable that surrounds the lawgiver, and striving to gain a sight of the great man himself, the first he has found since he began his history with Zeus on Olympus. Our account of Lycurgus, as is well known, depends almost entirely on the authority of Plutarch, whose historical accuracy never could be called his greatest virtue. Among the innovations intro- duced by Lycurgus, the redivision of the lands of Sparta and 1854.] GROTE S HISTORY 01? GREECE. 159 Laconia among the Spartans and the Pericnci has usually maintained its ground in history as a well-authenticated anomaly. This is a piece of ancient Socialism which we have always regretted, and we have only consoled ourselves by remembering that the scheme proved utterly abortive, and of little authority as a precedent. Mr. Grote removes the difficulty by denying the reality of any such institution of Lycurgus. He says Now we shall find on consideration that this new and equal parti- tion of land by Lykurgus is still more at variance with fact and proba- bility than the two former alleged proceedings. All the historical evidences exhibit decided inequalities of property among the Spartans, inequalities which tended constantly to increase; moreover, the earliest authors do not conceive this evil as having grown up by way of abuse out of a primeval system of perfect equality, nor do they know any thing of the original equal redivision by Lykurgus. Vol. II. p. 530. Jn support of this last statement he cites various passages from Hellanicus, Herodotus, Thucydides, Xenophon, and Plato, showing that these writers recognized no division of the Spartan land subsequent to that made at the time of the Done conquest. Lastly, he says, Aristotle clearly did not believe that Lykurgt~s bad redivided the soil. For he informs us, first, that, both in Lace- da~mon and in Krete, the legislator had rendered the enjoyment of property common through the establishment of the Syssitia or public mess. Now this remark (if read in the chapter of which it forms part, a refutation of the scheme of Communism for the select guardians in the Platonic Republic) will be seen to tell little for its point, if we as- sume that Lykurgus at the same time equalized all individual posses- sions. Had Aristotle known the fact, he could not have failed to notice it; nor could he have assimilated the legislators in Laceda~mon and Krete, seeing that in the latter no one pretends that any such equaliza- tion was ever brought about. It appears, then, that none of the authors down to Aristotle ascribe to Lykurgus a redivision of the lands, either of Sparta or Laconia. The silence of so many writers, to say nothing of their pos- itive testimony, is certainly an important consideration against accepting so remarkable a statement on authority so late as that of Plutarch. It seems evident that the story first be- 160 GROTE S RISTORY OF GREECE. [Jan. came generally known between the time of Aristotle and that of Plutarch. It is hardly credible that, during that period of literary inactivity in Greece, any such important fact in Spartan history should have been rescued from the oblivion of so many centuries. Our only alternative seems to be, to reject the story, as a fiction which had become current in the later centuries before Christ, and which was accepted by Plutarch as authentic history. If we wish to proceed further, and ascertain the foundation of the story in Plutarch, we have a large field open for speculation and conjecture. Mr. Grote, partially supported by Lachmann, ascribes the idea to the circumstances existing in the reign of Agis III. and Cleomenes III., and especially to the famous dream of Agis, related in Plutarch. We would refer those interested in the question, and in the whole subject of Lycur- gus, to Mr. Grotes sixth chapter in his second volume. In the third volume, we have a fine delineation of Solon, as a poet, as a lawgiver, and as a man. The mark which he made upon his age was no transient impression; it has sur- vived the race who first received it, and, transmitted through the ages of Romes rise and decline, is still felt in its effect on the jurisprudence of Modern Europe. The character of such a man can never be presented to the world in too bril- liant a light. His life should be studied wherever stern integ- rity and unwavering patriotism are honored, and his warning voice against approaching despotism, though addressed to Athens in vain, should never be suffered to be silent. Mr. Grote has done full justice to the subject. His description of the Solonian constitution is full and clear, and nothing is omitted which could tend to give a vivid impression of this portion of Athenian history. The alleged interview between Solon and Crcesus at Sardis he rejects, as irreconcilable with chronology, and he proposes the following explanation of the narrative in Herodotus. In my judgment, this is an illustrative tale, in which certain real characters, Cresus and Solon, and certain real facts, the great power and succeeding ruin of the former by the victorious arm of Cy- rus, together with certain facts probably altogether fictitious, such as the two sons of Criesus, the Phrygian Adrastus and his history, the 1854.] GROTE S HISTORY OF GREECE. 161 hunting of the mischievous wild boar on Mount Olympus, the ultimate preservation of Cresus, & c., are put together so as to convey an im- pressive moral lesson. Vol II. p. 200, note. He adds But even if no chronological objections existed, the moral purpose of the tale is so prominent, and pervades it so systematically from be- ginning to end, that these internal grounds are of themselves sufficiently strong to impeach its credibility as a matter of fact, unless such doubts happen to be outweighed which in this case they are not by good contemporary testimony. The narrative of Solon and Crccsus can be taken for nothing else but an illustrative fiction, borrowed by Herodo~ tus from some philosopher, and clothed in his own peculiar beauty of expression, which on this occasion is more decidedly poetical than is habitual with him.~~ We quote these passages as an instance where Mr. Grote strives to detect a dramatic element in Herodotus. Many other striking instances occur, such as the dream of Xerxes, and the conversations with Demaratus, where a similar ten- dency seems to be visible. But it seems unnecessary to im- agine for these any different origin from that which is univer- sally conceded to the whole class of speeches both in Herodotus and Thucydides. In all cases, the historian seems to have accepted as a fact the occasion which called forth the speech or the conversation, and then to have supplied the words, as the case may have been, from recollection, from hearsay, or tradition, or, where these failed, from imagination. There seems hardly sufficient evidence to convince us that either historian ever manufactured the occasion as well as the speech, for dramatic effect. Those, however, who would exclude the exercise of the imagination wholly from the speeches of Thu- cydides, must be referred to Mr. Grotes remark, on the dia- logue in the fifth book of Thucydides between the Athenian embassy and the oligarchy of Melos (Vol. VII. p. 157). Even if we do not agree with him so far as to consider this a dra- matic fragment, entitled to the name of MAxov ~AXcoa~s9, in parody of the title of the last tragedy of Phrynicus, yet we must acknowledge the evidence of a dramatic design in the historian~ in expressing the atrocious sentiments of the Athenian envoy in such vivid language, in antithesis to the overwhelming disaster 14 162 GROTES hISTORY OF GREECE. [Jan. and ruin of Athens upon which he is about to enter. These alternate questions and answers must have beeen drawn prin- cipally from the imagination of the historian; for none of the Melian oligarchy could have escaped the final massacre, to report the controversy which preceded, and surely no Athenian, who had either uttered such sentiments or suffered them to be uttered in his name, would have been anxious to repeat them, and certainly not when coupled with the Melian replies, as they stand in Thucydides. We must hasten with a mere glance over the interesting chapters containing the administration of the Pisistratida~, the reforms of Cleisthenes, the Ionic revolt, and the Persian wars. We have several ample chapters devoted to the Greek colonies in Asia Minor, Italy, and Sicily, and to the various nations with whom the Hellenic race came in contact by mi- gration or by war. We are glad to find that, as we advance into the historical period, Mr. Grote follows Herodotus with almost unwavering fidelity. It was once the fashion to decry this writer, as little better than a fabulist, and his venerable title of father of history~ has sometimes even been changed to that of father of lies. This unscrupulous, ignorant libel is now almost forgotten, and it is perhaps unpardonable in us to recall it from its oblivion. Every years investigation adds new weight to the authority of Herodotus; and even the statements which were once thought to be the strongest proofs of his credulity and extravagance, have now become the most con- vincing evidence of his scrupulous veracity. The world may now safely be challenged to produce a single statement, made by Herodotus upon his own authority, and where he had the means of forming an opinion, which can be proved to be false. We could hardly ask more even for Thucydides. We are glad to see that Mr. Grote has even accepted some points, on the authority of ilerodotus, which Niebuhr thought it necessary to reject. One instance of this may be seen in regard to the battle of Marathon. Niebuhr says of the narra- tive in ilerodotus, The particulars of the battle are uncer- tam; most of them resemble the well-known deed of Cynegi- ins, who madly seized a Persian galley and wanted to hold it back. All this is poetical, and may serve to rejoice and warm 1834.] GROTE S HISTORY OF GREECE. 163 us, but we cannot take it as history. * Mr. Grote, however, less suspicious of Herodotus, and more in the spirit of modern criticism on that historian, accepts even the story of Cynegi- rus, which certainly has in it nothing impossible, and which might have been related upon the best authority, as the hero was a well-known man, and a brother of the poet IEschylus. His [Herodotuss] account of the battle of Marathon presents him in honorable contrast with the loose and boastful assertors who followed him; for though he does not tell us much, and falls lamentably short of what we should like to know, yet all that he does say is reasonable and probable as to the proceedings of both armies; and the little which he states becomes more trustworthy on that very account, because it is a little, showing that he keeps strictly within his authorities. Vol. IV. p. 469. It must be remembered, however, that the large numbers usually associated with the battle of Marathon, and which Niebulir considers too large for the plain to hold, are not taken from Herodotus, but from later historians. To give another instance, Mr. Grote says The canal dug by order of Xerxes across the promontory of Mount Athos, and the sailing of the Persian fleet through it, is a fact which I believe, because it is well attested, notwithstanding its remarkable im- probability, which so far misled Juvenal as to induce him to single out the narrative as a glaring example of Grecian mendacity. Vol. I. p. 575. Niebuhr, on the other hand, after saying that history is here so interwoven with poetry, that they can no longer be separated, adds: But Mount Athos assuredly was not cut through; it seems inconceivable why he should have done so, although the Greeks themselves state that even in later times traces were visible near Sane. Mr. Grote has in this case, as an authority in support of himself and ilerodotus, the re- searches of Colonel Leake, who found even at this day evident traces of the great canal of Xerxes on the isthmus of Mount Athos. He even suggests the possibility of reopening the pas- sage, and as an evidence of its advantage, and of the danger of circumnavigating the promontory, he states that he found * Lectures, Vol. I. p. 327. 164 ~ROTES HISTORY OF GREECE. [Jan. it impossible to persuade a boatman to carry him from the eastern side to the western, even by offering a high price. This is only one of the many instances in which modern re- search has established the authority of the father of history. The period from the expulsion of the Persians to the Pelo- ponnesian war is one of peculiar interest, and is of especial importance in our authors work. He is avowedly an advo- cate of the Athenian democracy, and strives in every way to defend it against the various misrepresentations to which it has been subject. He does not accept Aristophaness picture of the waspish old man Demus, of Pnyx, and he endeavors to show the other side of his friends character, which the sat- irist never notices. Like his modern successor, John Bull, the old man held certain possessions beyond the sea, acquired in a way sometimes considered of doubtful morality, and whose treatment often excited scandal among his meddlesome neigh- bors. As it is all important to begin with a strong foundation, Mr. Grote endeavors at the outset to justify the position of imperial Athens during the time of her maritime empire, pre- vious to its dissolution by means of the Peloponnesian war. He draws an important distinction, often overlooked, between Athens as president of the confederacy of IDelos, and imperial Athens at the head of a number of subject islands and states. The confederacy of Delos was formed no less for the benefit of the allies than for that of Athens, to maintain a common war against a common enemy. The quota of ships and men which each state was to furnish was apportioned by the just Aristides, and the purpose for which they had associated was completely answered. The independence of the numerous islands in the IEgean was secured and maintained by their alliance, and by the dignity and power of the presiding city. During this period of hegemony, no greater dissatisfaction existed in the confederacy than is usual in such associations for mutual benefit. But an important change had taken place in the mean time. As the more imminent danger of attack diminished, and as the confederacy became employed more and more in offensive operations, the more indolent islanders were soon glad to compound with the active Athenians to supply the whole number of ships and men, on condition of 1854.] GROTE S hISTORY OF GREECE. 165 receiving an annual contribution in money. This arrangement was equally agreeable to both parties; to the smaller states, as it enabled them to enjoy all the security afforded by the protection of Athens, without exposing their persons to actual danger; and to Athens, as it gave her a more exclusive con- trol of the confederacy, and enabled her to establish her own power on a solid and permanent foundation. The whole system was still voluntary. The periodical synods at IDelos were still continued, and the position of Athens was consid- ered changed only by those who saw the ultimate result of the blind policy of the confederates. Down to the time of the revolt of Naxos, in 466 B. C., we have no evidence of any violent dissatisfaction or complaint against Athens, greater than was to be expected among states thus associated by mutual consent. When this first violent breach of harmony took place, a new aspect of the case was presented. The confederacy had been formed for a specific object, and that object still continued to be carried out in the manner selected by the large majority of the confederates. It was plainly the duty which the presiding city owed both to herself and to the other allies, to coerce the unwilling mnem- bers into obedience. If ever there could be a case where the power intrusted to Athens could be justly exercised, it was when a state which had been enjoying the protection of the confederacy refused to contribute its stipulated amount to the common support. The revolt of Naxos was the first instance of a kind of nullification, which it was highly dangerous for the confederacy to countenance or overlook. The example of re- volt was, however, contagious. Associated action was opposed to one of the first principles of the Hellenic mind, which was inclined to carry the idea of independence even to an absurd- ity; and under the peace and prosperity secured by the alli- ance, they were likely to value less the advantages which they gained by it, and to grudge the contributions by which it was maintained. It was these successive revolts, followed by sub- jection, which gradually changed the Athenian hegemony into the Athenian empire. No particular step could be blamed, each was probably taken with great reluctance; but the result was the cause of the excessive unpopularity, and at last of the 166 GROTE $ HISTORY OF GREECE. [Jan. ruin, of Athens. At the time of the thirty years truce (B. C. 445), the only allies remaining upon the old footing of equality with Athens were Chios, Lesbos, and Samos. All the others had at some time revolted, and had been reduced to the con- dition of subjects. A tribute was imposed upon the subject states, and every precaution was taken against future revolt. This is the view which Mr. Grote has taken of the gradual formation of the Athenian empire. He is far from defending all the proceedings of Athens in regard to her subjects, after they were acquired, much less the cruelties inflicted, on various occasions, during the Peloponnesian war. It is principally in the acquisition of her power that he would defend her, and here we think he is successful. But though the Athenians were both disposed and qualified to push all the advantages offered, and even to look out for new, we must not forget that the foundations of their empire were laid in the most hon- orable causes; voluntary invitation, efforts both unwearied and suc- cessful against a common enemy, unpopularity incurred in discharge of an imperative duty, and inability to break up the confederacy without endangering themselves, as well as laying open the ]Egean Sea to the Persians. Vol. V. p. 504. This view is in accordance with the brief narrative in Thucydides, who clearly marks the distinction observed by Mr. Grote between the two periods of Athenian supremacy. The presiding character assumed in the time of Aristides was totally different from the imperial character assumed under Pericles. The latter statesman discarded all ideas of a return to the ancient equality. His doctrine upon the subject, ac- cording to Mr. Grote, was this He maintained that Athens owed to her subject allies no account of the money received from them, so long as she performed her contract by keeping away the Persian enemy and maintaining the safety of the ]Egean waters. This was, as he represented, the obligation which Athens had undertaken; and, provided it were faithfully discharged, the allies had no right to ask questions or institute control. That it was faithfully discharged, no one could deny. No ship of war, except that of Athens and her allies, was ever seen between the eastern and the western shores of the }Egean. Vol. VI. p. 5. This doctrine of Pericles was extremely popular with the 1854.] GROTE S HISTORY OF GREECE. 167 people; the idea of a despot city, however odious was its name among other states of Greece, was conceived by the Athenians without repugnance, and their pride was flattered by the appellation. As long as the great statesman, its life and soul, remained to guide it in its difficult course, it contin- ued well worthy of the pride which it awakened. When his directing hand was removed, none of the smaller race who aspired to its control could preserve it from disastrous ship- wreck. In an account of the Peloponnesian war, under the positive guidance of Thucydides, there is little room for historical dis- cussion as to matters of fact. It is especially in this depart- ment of his work that Mr. Grote has shown himself, not merely acquainted with the substance of his Greek authori- ties, but eminently able to criticize the language and construe. tion of perhaps the most difficult among them. In the notes to his sixth and seventh volumes, materials might aim ostbe collected for a new edition of Thucydides, which, although they aid in swelling the work to an unprecedented size, must yet be regarded as valuable contributions towards an interpre- tation of that historian. He is, however, not above correc- tion, and is ever ready to abandon his erroneous opinions in deference to those who have distinguished themselves in clas- sical learning, although he can often maintain his own ground with the ablest of them. We cannot help noticing his cour- teous reply to the criticisms of Mr. Scott upon his interpreta- tions of Thucydides, and also his cool and dignified rejoinder to the insolent pamphlet of Mr. Shiletto, who seemed to consider Mr. Grotes classical criticism as a daring trespass of an out- sider upon some private property of the University of Cam- bridge. We now come to a more unpleasant subject, the leather- dresser Cleon. We had always supposed that, from Thucy- dides until the book of history should be closed, no two opin- ions were possible concerning this offspring of the Athenian democracy. But now we find Mr. Grote, in a long and elabo- rate panegyric, soberly endeavoring to prove that our opinions are all to be recast, and that Cleon is really the great man of his age. Even those who cannot fully agree with Mr. Grote in 168 GROTE S HISTORY OF GREECE. [Jan. his estimate of Cleon, must admit that he has succeeded in exhibiting a new side of his character, and in showing reasons why we should at least suspend our judgment upon some points of the evidence that we have. It must be allowed that our ideas of Cleon are mostly derived from two authors who had good reason to be prejudiced against him, and one of whom would not have hesitated to make his prejudice severely felt in comedy. Aristophanes did not spare even Socrates. He could not be expected to spare Cleon. Cleon might have been the best man in the world, and yet have appeared in comedy as he is represented in The Knights. As to Thu- cydides, Mr. Grote says I repeat with reluctance, though not without belief; the statement made by one of the biographers of Thucydides, that Kicon was the cause of the banishment of the latter as a general, and has therefore received from him harder measure than was due in his capacity of his- torian. But though this sentiment is probably not without influence in dictating the unaccountable judgment which I have just been criticizing, I nevertheless look upon that judgment not as peculiar to Thucydides, but as common to him with Nikias and those whom we must call, for want of a better name, the oligarchical party of the time at Athens. Vol. VI. p. 476. It is, of course, prini~6 facie evidence against a theory, that it is opposed to Thucydides on a question of fact. But we may be more liberal in our ideas of Cleon, and especially we may amply acknowledge his ability, without denying any ac- tual statement of fact in the great historian, or impugning his impartiality. We cannot accuse a historian of partiality merely because we form a different opinion from him in regard to the same facts. Mr. Grote himself says The general attributes set forth by Thucydides, (apart from Aris- tophanes, who does not profess to write history,) we may well accept, the powerful and violent invective of Kicon, often dishonest, together with his self-confidence and audacity in the public assembly. Men of the middling class, like Kleon and Hyperbolus, who persevered in ad- dressing the public assembly, and trying to take a leading part in it against persons of greater family pretensions than themselves, were pretty sure to be men of more than usual audacity Unhappily, we have no specimens to enable us to appreciate the invective of Kleon. 1854.] GROTES RISTORY OF GREECE. 169 We cannot determine whether it was more virulent than that of Demos- thenes and A~schines, seventy years afterwards, each of these eminent orators imputing to each other the grossest impudence, calumny, per- jury, corruption, loud voice and revolting audacity of manner, in lan- guage which Kicon can hardly have surpassed in intensity of vitupera- tion, though he doubtless fell immeasurably short of it in classical finish. Vol. VI. p. 332. We may accept this statement, and yet maintain the im- partiality of Thucydides. Cleon seems to have been an unusually developed specimen of that class of men who are always found, in a republic, among the favorites of the populace. They have suddenly left their trades at some fancied call of the public good, and they possess no more elegance and courtesy than they brought with them from the tan-yard. Like Cleon, they smell of the leather wherever they appear. There is always a large amount of public fault-finding and accusation, very necessary to be performed, with which well-bred politicians are not anx- ions to soil their mouths. This class of patriots, with the best intentions in the world, stand always ready to undertake such business, and they are loudly applauded by the populace, who are equally interested in exposing petty corruption and injus- tice. Scenes of factious contention, such as they always pro- duce, are what their nature craves, and therefore they cannot be expected to avoid or prevent them. They become excited and embittered in attacking abuses, and at last they deem every thing an abuse which their opponents honor and respect. They must be men of ability, for otherwise they could never have gained their power over the popular mind. Cleon, ac- cording to Thucydides, was at the same time the most vio- lent of the citizens,~ and the most influential with the populace. It is, indeed, against Aristophanes, more than against Thucydides, that Mr. Grote attempts to defend Cleon. He is willing to accept the general attributes set forth by the historian, and he merely supposes that Thucydides was preju- diced in his opinion of facts which he has related with faith- ful accuracy. We all know how much the wisest and the most impartial in our own day may be influenced in their voL. Lxxviii. NO. 162. 15 170 GROTES HISTORY OF GREECE. [Jan. view of the notions of a violent popular leader by private animosity excited by some personal attack. The great point of which the experience of our own day should convince us is, that such demagogues usually act from the best of motives, with the best intentions; that their extravagances arise from their excitement and their mistaken notions of public inter- est, while their want of courtesy may be traced to the fact, that their code of politeness contains but few principles, and those peculiar to themselves. Mr. Grotes remarks upon the affairs of Cleon and the Spartans in Sphacteria seem just, and consistent with the facts stated in Thucydides. Demosthenes had sent home for reinforcements at a time when the Athenians were confident that the siege was terminated, and that the enemy were in their power. Full of this hope, they had recently dismissed with insult the Laceda~monian embassy which came with proposals of peace and alliance. Cleon, who had been fore- most in rejecting the offer, was now especially forward in condemning the conduct of the war and the delay in captur- ing the island. He gave his opinion freely as to what might have been done, if the generals had been men, (at the same time giving a significant look at Nicias, who was present,) and concluded with a declaration of what he himself would have done, if he had been general. Nicias offers to resign his own place to him; thinking it a joke, Cleon accepts, but at last, finding that he is held to his promise, he tries to es- cape, telling Nicias very properly, It is your place to sail; you are the general, not I. As he cannot avoid accepting, his friends urging it in good faith, and his enemies insisting upon it,in the hope of ruining him by failure or of getting rid of him by death, he makes the best of the matter, and promises to return with the garrison as prisoners, or to leave them dead in Sphacteria, within twenty days. The affair ended, as is well known, by the appearance of Cleon and Demosthenes within the time specified, accompanied by 292 Laceda~monian prison- ers, including 120 full-blooded Spartans. This is usually con- sidered as a famous farce; but if it be so, the most ridiculous characters in it (as Mr. Grote observes) are Nicias and the enemies of Cleon, who urged him, though an incompetent 1854.] GROTES HISTORY OF GREECE. 171 man in their estimation, to undertake such an important en- terprise. If we intend fairly to compare the behaviour of Kleon with that of his political adversaries, we must distinguish between the two occasions: first, that in which he had frustrated the pacific mission of the Lace- da~monian envoys; next, the subsequent delay and dilemma which has been recently described. On the first occasion, his advice appears to have been mistaken in policy, as well as offensive in manner, & c. But the case was entirely altered when the mission for peace (wisely, or unwisely) had been broken up, and when the fate of Sphac- teria had been committed to the chances of war. There were then imperative reasons for prosecuting the war vigorously, and for employ- ing all the force requisite to insure the capture of that island. And looking to this end, we shall find that there was nothing in the conduct of Kleon either to blame or to deride; while his political adversaries (Nicias among them) are deplorably timid, ignorant, and reckless of the public interest; seeking only to turn the existing disappointment and dilemma into a party opportunity for ruining him. Vol. VI. p. 459. Though the military attack of Sphaeteria one of the ablest speci- mens of generalship in the whole war, and distinguished not less by the dexterous employment of different descriptions of troops than by care to spare the lives of the assailants belongs wholly to Demos.. thenes; yet if Kleon had not been competent to stand up in the Athe- nian assembly and defy those gloomy predictions which we see attested in Thucydides, Demosthenes would never have been reinforced, nor placed in condition to land on the island. The glory of the enterprise, therefore, belongs jointly to both; and Kleon, far from stealing away the laurels of Demosthenes, (as Aristophanes represents him in the Knights,) was really the means of placing them on his head, though he at the same time deservedly shared them. Vol. VI. p. 476. Although the character of Cleon is one for which we can feel little admiration or sympathy, it yet seems to have been open, and for the most part honest. Though his natural rudeness and strong popular principles made him odious to the refined and the conservative, his ability and eloquence rendered him a favorite with the large majority of citizens. Even his enemy Aristophanes represents him as pleading the causes of poor persons before the dilcasteries, if Mr. Grotes inference from a passage in The Frogs~ can be allowed. On the whole, Cleon seems to have agreed with Ciceros short 172 GROTE $ hISTORY OF GREECE. [Jan. description ; turbulenturn quidem civem, sed tarnen eloquen- tern. A large part of Mr. Grotes seventh volume is filled with a detailed account of the Sicilian expedition. The failure of that enterprise is ascribed to the utter incapacity and inaction of Nicias, to whom the sole direction of affairs was left, upon the death of Lamachus and the arrest and flight of Al.. cibiades. In the eighth volume, after the closing scenes of the Pelopounesian war, the capture, subjugation, and liberation of Athens, we have a long and able review of the life and philosophy of Socrates. From this we shall attempt no extracts in the small space remaining to us; indeed, it would be im- possible to do the chapter justice by quotations. Mr. Grotes whole account of Greek philosophy, beginning with the Ionic school of Thales, is one of the most valuable portions of his work, and it will be especially so, when enriched by the re- view of Plato and Aristotle, promised for the twelfth volume. We should not omit, in this connection, the argument for the Athenian Sophists, who, after bearing the accumulated abuse and malediction of more than twenty centuries, have at last found an able champion. We quote the following passage, which Mr. Grote himself cites from the Quarterly Review, as containing the general drift of his remarks on the Sophists. According to Mr. Grote, they were regular teachers of Greek morality, neither above nor below the standard of the age. According to the common view, Socrates was the great opponent of the Sophists, and Plato his natural successor in the same combat. According to Mr. Grote, Socrates was the great representative of the Sophists, distin- guished from them only by his higher eminence, and by the peculiarity of his life and teaching. According to the common view, Plato and his followers were the authorized teachers, the established clergy of the Greek nation, and the Sophists the dissenters. According to Mr. Grote, the Sophists were the established clergy, and Plato was the dissenter, the Socialist, who attacked the Sophists (as he attacked the poets and the statesmen), not as a particular sect, but as one of the existing orders of society. See Grote, Vol. VIII. p. 549, note 2, 2d ed. The ninth volume contains the expedition of Cyrus, and a continuation of the affairs of Greece and the operations in 1854.] GROTES HISTORY OF GREECE. 173 Asia Minor down to the peace of Antalcidas. In the tenth, we come at last to Epaminondas. Scarcely any character in Grecian history, says Mr. Grote, has been judged with so much unanimity as Epaminondas. He has ob- tained a meed of admiration, from all, sincere and hearty, from some, enthusiastic. Cicero pronounces him to be the first man in Greece. Vol. X. p. 483. Looking through all Grecian history, it is only in Perikles that we find the like many-sided excellence: for though much inferior to Epam- inondas as a general, Perikles must be held superior to him as a statesman. But it is alike true of both, and the remark tends much to illustrate the sources of Grecian excellence, that neither sprang exclusively from the school of practice and experience. They both brought to that school minds exercised in the conversation of the most instructed philosophers and sophists accessible to them, trained to varied intellectual combinations and to a larger range of subjects than came before the public assembly, familiarized with reasonings which the scrupulous piety of Nikias forswore, and which the devoted mili- tary patriotism of Pelopidas disdained. Vol. X. p. 491. We must here conclude our extracts from Mr. Grote. His eleventh volume has not been noticed, as it seems to be in~ complete without its successor. The life of Demosthenes is left unfinished, and but one of the men of Macedon has appeared upon the stage. We may remark, that the lim- its which, for historical reasons, Mr. Grote has assigned to his work, are also peculiarly adapted to increase its dramatic in- terest. On one side we have the Grecian foretime, inter- woven with its wreath of poetry and legend, as it came from the poets hand; on the other side, we are to conclude with the generation of Alexander, with which our peculiar interest in Greek history ceases, and with which the drama is brought to an appropriate close in a scene of fatal splendor. That Mr. Grotes History is faultless, no one will pretend; that it will in due time be superseded, is only the natural con- sequence of the advance of human wisdom; but the varied learning and the eminent ability which have been bestowed upon these volumes render their publication an imp#rtant era in the history of Grecian research. 15 * 174 MEMOIRS OF FRAXCIS JIORNER. [Jan. ART. VII. Memoirs and Correspondence of FRANCIS bR- NER~ M.P. Edited by his Brother, LEONARD HORNER, ESQ., F.R.S. Boston: Little, Brown, & Co. 18~3. 2 vols. 8vo. Tnis work is something more than a reprint of the Memoirs of Francis Homer, which was first published in London about ten years ago. It embraces a further selection from Mr. br- ner s correspondence, about forty or fifty of his letters being now first given to the world; and many of these, we may add, are equal or superior in interest to those included in the for- mer edition. One of them contains a curious memorandum, drawn from the unpublished papers of John Locke, relative to the student Aikenhead, who was tried and executed in Edin.. burgh, as late as 1697, for denying, perhaps for ridiculing, the doctrine of the Trinity. Certainly, there is little reason for sharply censuring the founders of a small colony here in New England, because they were so ignorant of the principles of religious toleration as to hang mad Quakers in 16~9, if those principles were so little known in the mother country forty years afterwards, that, under the mild government of William of Orange, a man could be legally put to death for no other alleged crime than his speculative belief concerning the nature of the Godhead. Such a judicial murder, as Mr. Homer calls it, occurring in the lifetime of John Locke, could not fail to attract his notice, and he seems to have made a collection of the documents relating to it, including a copy of the indict- ment, notes of the evidence, and some private letters, in order either to bring the matter to the notice of the government in England, or to use it as an illustration in his writings upon toleration. It is not easy to see why Lord King, into whose possession these documents came among the other papers of Locke, made no allusion to the case in his biography of that sound philosopher and excellent man. As a descendant of Lockes sister, and the heir of his papers, he ought also to have inherited his principles, which would have inclined him to give to so abominable a transaction all the notoriety which he who first collected the documents intended it should ac

174 MEMOIRS OF FRAXCIS JIORNER. [Jan. ART. VII. Memoirs and Correspondence of FRANCIS bR- NER~ M.P. Edited by his Brother, LEONARD HORNER, ESQ., F.R.S. Boston: Little, Brown, & Co. 18~3. 2 vols. 8vo. Tnis work is something more than a reprint of the Memoirs of Francis Homer, which was first published in London about ten years ago. It embraces a further selection from Mr. br- ner s correspondence, about forty or fifty of his letters being now first given to the world; and many of these, we may add, are equal or superior in interest to those included in the for- mer edition. One of them contains a curious memorandum, drawn from the unpublished papers of John Locke, relative to the student Aikenhead, who was tried and executed in Edin.. burgh, as late as 1697, for denying, perhaps for ridiculing, the doctrine of the Trinity. Certainly, there is little reason for sharply censuring the founders of a small colony here in New England, because they were so ignorant of the principles of religious toleration as to hang mad Quakers in 16~9, if those principles were so little known in the mother country forty years afterwards, that, under the mild government of William of Orange, a man could be legally put to death for no other alleged crime than his speculative belief concerning the nature of the Godhead. Such a judicial murder, as Mr. Homer calls it, occurring in the lifetime of John Locke, could not fail to attract his notice, and he seems to have made a collection of the documents relating to it, including a copy of the indict- ment, notes of the evidence, and some private letters, in order either to bring the matter to the notice of the government in England, or to use it as an illustration in his writings upon toleration. It is not easy to see why Lord King, into whose possession these documents came among the other papers of Locke, made no allusion to the case in his biography of that sound philosopher and excellent man. As a descendant of Lockes sister, and the heir of his papers, he ought also to have inherited his principles, which would have inclined him to give to so abominable a transaction all the notoriety which he who first collected the documents intended it should ac 1854.] MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS IJORNER. 175 quire. Mr. Homer, while yet a very young man, had an oppor- tunity allowed him, while in London, to examine Lockes manuscripts, and was so much struck with the papers relating to this case, that he wrote to Malcolm Laing, the historian of Scotland, urging him to give an account of it in one of his forthcoming volumes. He quotes a letter of Lord Anstruther, who visited Aikenhead in prison, and describes him as eigh- teen years of age, not vicious, and extremely studious. Lord Anstruther pleaded in the Council for a remission of the sen- tence, but was told it could not be granted unless the minis- ters would intercede. Whereupon he remarks I am not for consulting the Church in state affairs. I do not think he would have proven an eminent Christian had he lived; but the min- isters, out of a pious, though I think ignorant zeal, spoke and preached for cutting him off. I find capital punishment inflicted most against crimes that disturb the society and government, and not against the heinousness of the sin against God, for lawyers say in that case, Satis est Deum kabere ultorem. And so stealing a sheep, when one is hun- gry, or speaking against the king, are punished by death; whereas cursing, lying, slandering, drunkenness, & c. are scarcely taken notice of by our law; but our ministers generally are of a narrow set of thoughts, and confined principles, and not able to bear things of this nature. I have sent you inclosed his speech. Vol. I. pp. 201, 202. It was characteristic of Francis Homer to be deeply inter- ested in such a case, not so much from his fondness for histor- ical research, as from the liberality of his principles and the vehemence of his indignation against wrong. The purity and excellence of his moral character contributed quite as much as the vigor of his understanding and the largeness of his attainments to give him the eminence which he acquired at a very early age among English statesmen. There was some- thing in Homer which the most vehement of his political oppo- nents felt compelled to respect, and before which any thing like duplicity, meanness, or profligacy stood ashamed. He was not a wit, he did not excel in oratory, and his talents were rather solid than brilliant. He had not the advantages of hereditary rank or ample fortune, and he first appeared in Parliament under the character, there peculiarly exposed to suspicion and dislike, of a young Scotch lawyer, who had 176 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS IIORNER. [Jan. abandoned the bar at Edinburgh in order to seek his fortune on the broader theatre of London. A prejudice of the Eng- lish people, especially of those connected with the govern- ment, against a person coming into political life under such circumstances, may be traced as far back, perhaps, as the times of James I.; and it had certainly been strengthened of late years by a recollection of the lives and characters of Lord Loughborough, the Earl of Bute, and even the great Lord Mansfield. Yet even Brougham, who was of English parent- age, with all the variety of his talents, the ardor of his tem- perament, and the splendid irregularity of his genius, did not acquire political distinction so soon, and never gained so much weight and authority of opinion, as Homer, who was his con- temporary and intimate friend. The latter died of consurnp- tion, at the early age of thirty-nine, before he had held any public office, or had appeared before the public in any char- acter but that of a diligent, but not obtrusive, memberof the House of Commons, and a stanch adherent of that Whig party which, throughout his career, was in a hopeless minority. Yet his premature death was regarded as a public calamity. All parties in the House of Commons united in paying a respectful and affectionate tribute to his memory; and with the concurrence of the whole nation, a noble statue of him, by Chantrey, was erected in Westminster Abbey, as worthy to stand there by the side of the numerous memorials of the other illustrious dead whose fame is a portion of the national inheritance. When his decease was annonnced in Parlia- ment, one of his political opponents, Mr. Manners Sutton, afterwards Speaker of the House, remarked, with much feel- ing, Jn my conscience I believe there never lived the man of whom it could more truly be said, that, whenever he was found in public life, he was respected and admired; whenever he was known in private life, he was most affectionately beloved. Before the publication of his Memoirs and Correspondence, it was difficult to account for this warmth and unanimity of public and private eulogy. There were no striking incidents in Mr. Homers life; he had not accomplished any one great work; and though his career had evidently been active and 1864.] MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS ILORNER. 177 laborious, there were few or no permanent tokens of it in the history or the fortunes of the country. His name was identi- fied with only one memorable passage in the political history of England, that relating to the Bullion Report and Debate in the House of Commons in 1810. Even in that remarkable discussion, though it originated with him and he performed most of the labor, Canning eclipsed him in the rhetorical, and Ricardo in the scientific, treatment of the question, and he was perhaps equalled by Huskisson, Thornton, and Baring. Besides, the debate, important as it was for the evolution of scientific principles, and for its effect on public opinion, had no immediate result in legislation. Homer and his brilliant associates the theorists, as their opponents sneeringly called them were steadily voted down by a strong Parliamentary majority, who did not hesitate to declare that black was white, or to pass a formal resolution that the notes of the Bank of England had not undergone any depreciation whatever, though specie was then at a premium of about fourteen per cent. Not till 1819 did Mr. Peel succeed in inducing Parliament to order the restoration of cash payments by the Bank, thus reaping the harvest of which Mr. Homer had sown the seeds nine years before. In this affair, as well as on most other occasions in which he directly came before the public, Mr. Homer appeared as a scientific Political Economist, a character by no means as popular then as it has since become, through the success of Mr. Cobden and the Corn Law League. Every tyro in the House of Commons, and every contributor to the Times or the Morning Chronicle, can now cite Ricardo and Adam Smith, and prate about the laws of wages and the theory of rent; in fact, he must do so, or John Bull will not listen to him. The Economists now govern the commercial legislation of England, and sway the destinies of her colonies. They can point to the New Poor Law, to Peels Bank Act of 1844, to the repeal of the Corn Law and the Navigation Laws, and to the general establishment of Free Trade, as exclusively their work. The most general qualifications of an English statesman, at the present day, are a moderate knowledge of Adam Smith and an immoderate zeal for the abolition of 178 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS HORNER. [Jan. slavery. Any other training is ornamental or merely auxil- iary; these are necessary preparations for the course. It was far otherwise at the beginning of the present century, when Ricardo and Malthus, Homer and Huskisson, were just enter- ing upon their labors. A Political Economist was then re- garded pretty nearly in the same light in which men now look upon an Owenite, a Fourierite, or any other rabid theorist. He was thought to be hopelessly infected with the spirit of system. His arguments were not answered, but his conclu- sions were brought to the test of common sense and old prejudices, and found wanting. Though Mr. Homer does not rank, like Malthus and Ricardo, among the improvers of the science, he did more than any of his contemporaries to apply it to practice. Most of his articles in the Edinburgh Review, and most of his speeches in Parliament, were devoted to an application of its principles to the mooted questions of the day. But he did not become eminent because he was a Political Economist, but rather in spite of it. He rendered more to the science than he received from it. He obtained assent to its doctrines more because they were his doctrines, than because they were principles of science. He avoided the two common errors of political theorists; he did not dog- matize, and he did not bend his doctrines to suit the occa- sions of his party. His candor and fairness preserved him from the one fault, and his scrupulous integrity from the other. His understanding was naturally vigorous, but it would not have had half so much influence, if it had not been in- terpenetrated and warmed by the glow of his moral principles and by the amiability of his character. Perfectly free from cant and from the desire of display, he enlisted the sympa- thies of men because he did not shock their taste or needlessly alarm their prejudices. His modesty equalled his earnestness, and his candor never yielded to the fond desire of triumphing in debate. He thus preserved the moral elevation that he ob- tained at the outset, both in Parliament and before the public, and was enabled to command attention and respect even when he could not enforce assent to his opinions. The influence and distinction acquired by such a character were as honorable to those who gave or acknowledged them 1854.] MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS HORNER. 179 as to himself. His talents were not showy and brilliant enough, his manners were too quiet and modest, and his prin- ciples too inflexible, to enable him soon to acquire favor with the multitude. He did not come into Parliament as the repre- sentative of a great constituency, but the high estimation in which he was held by his friends procured him a seat as a member for a close borough. Mr. Canning, as an opponent of Parliamentary reform, very fairly alluded to this circum- stance when he came to add his testimonial of respect for the virtues of the departed. Mr. Windham, who was also a member by nomination, as it may be termed, having died not long before Mr. Homer, Canning remarked, When, for the second time within a short course of years, the name of an obscure borough is brought before us as vacated by the loss of conspicuous talents and character, it may be permitted to me, with my avowed and notorious opinions on the subject of our Parliamentary con- stitution, to state, without offence, that it is at least some consolation for the imputed theoretical defects of that constitution, that in practice it works so well. A system of representation cannot be wholly vicious and altogether inadequate to its purposes, which sends to this house a succession of such men as those whom we have now in our remem- brance, here to develop the talents with which God has endowed them, and to attain that eminence in the view of their country, from which they may be one day called to aid her counsels and to sustain her great~ ness and her glory. Thus much, we fear, must be admitted by the most stren- uous advocates of democratic institutions, that, in the United States, a man like Mr. Homer, whatever eminence he might have acquired through the press, could not have gained politi- cal distinction and influence so soon, or held them so firmly, as he did in England. Even there; his early success seemed remarkable, and, before the publication of his correspondence, almost inexplicable. Sir James Mackintosh surpassed him in reputation for learning and philosophy, in wit and brilliancy of composition and agreeableness of manners, and was cer- tainly not inferior to him in political integrity and private virtne. But he did not even obtain a seat in Parliament till he was nearly fifty, and though he remained there over twenty years, he seems to have had hardly a tithe of the influence 180 [Jan. MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS HORNER. over the House, or of the weight of opinion, which Homer had long enjoyed, who died at the early age of thirty-nine. But these letters and extracts from the other writings of Homer explain the problem of the great difference between the two men in point of success. Homer possessed in an eminent degree the steadiness of purpose and systematic diligence in which Mackintosh was wofully deficient. He had none of the little weaknesses or petty defects which so often abridge the influence, though to the inconsiderate they may seem even to enhance the brilliancy, of great talents and commanding virtues. Constancy in his aims, system in his employments, and indefatigable industry, were characteristic of him from early boyhood. Before he attained the age of manhood, he marked out for himself both the goal of his future endeavors and the precise path along which he was to proceed. From that path he never deviated a hairs breadth, and only a premature death prevented him from reaching the goal. Mackintosh was successively a physician, a political essayist, a lawyer, an Indian judge, a member of Parliament, a professor in college, and a historian. He coquetted all his life with philosophy, politics, and history, sharing his atten- tions so equally among them, that he never became a highly favored suitor of either. In reviewing his life and works, we do not think so much of what he actually accomplished, as of what he might have performed if he had been faithful to himself and persevering in his designs. His brilliant conver- sational powers were a fatal gift; he sacrificed to the epheme- ral pleasures and triumphs of social intercourse his best op- portunities of affording delight and instruction to future gen- erations. The first volume of Homers Memoirs and Correspondence derives most of its interest from the very full view that is given in it of the studies, and the carefully elaborated habits of thought and conduct, by which he prepared himself for active life, and insured as well as merited the success that attended all his future undertakings. It is an instructive com- mentary on the truth, which young men are far more willing to acknowledge in words than to act upon, that moderate natural endowments, controlled by a strong sense of duty, 1854.] MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS JIORNER. 181 laboriously and systematically cultivated, and directed with unflinching perseverance to a single object, though that object be both distant and lofty, are far more likely to be rewarded with success, than the untrained and spasmodic efforts of the most brilliant genius. Mr. Homer had not, it is true, to con- tend with the formidable external obstacles which sometimes frustrate the best attempts at systematic self-culture. He had not penury to sfruggle against; he was abundantly supplied with books, instructors, and the other means and appliances of learning. But the work which he performed for himself was one in reference to which books and instructors are not so often a help as a hinderance; they are but crutches, which sloth and cowardice so often tempt us to lean upon, and the use of which may consequently even postpone the period at which we shall be able to walk alone. Mr. Homer fairly met and vanquished the insidious and dangerous foes to self-educa~ tion which every man finds in his own love of ease and amusement, in his occasional fits of despondency and fre- quent vacillations of purpose. His plan of life was no better or higher than that which is formed by hundreds of students some time during their university career. But he had firm- ness and resolution enough to pursue it to the end, without halt or wavering; and thus his few years were crowned with some of the best fruits of a long life. The leading incidents in Mr. Homers life may be very briefly told. He was born in Edinburgh, on the 12th of August, 1778. His father, a respectable and successful mer- chant, had good natural abilities and respectable attain- ments, so that he was well qualified to superintend the earlier portion of his sons education, and to sympathize with him in his later studies and pursuits. From his mother he in- herited a gentle disposition, a delicate taste, and the purity and firmness of moral principle which was his prominent characteristic through life. He was educated at the High School and in the University of Edinburgh, then in the ze- nith of their fame and influence, the former being under the charge of Dr. Adam, and the latter ranking among its pro- fessors such men as IDugald Stewart, Playfair, Robison, Black, and IDr. Hugh Blair. The reputation of these men, united vOL. LxxvIII.No. 162. 16 182 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS HORNER. [Jan. with the disturbances on the Continent of Europe, which in- duced many persons to send their sons to a distance for an education, attracted a throng of students from other lands to Edinburgh, thus giving variety and animation to the society of the place, and new vigor and warmth to its intellectual action. It was, indeed, an exciting period. The French Revolution was agitating every part of the civilized world, not only with its diplomacy, its wars, and the intestine dis- turbances that it occasioned, but with a general fermenta- tion of opinion and the shock of conflicting theories. So- ciety was kept in a state of feverish excitement by the news of startling events and the mingled dread and hope of what was to come. Nothing appeared stable; old kingdoms were subverted, old institutions were crumbling, and doctrines were vehemently advocated that went far beyond the old land- marks of opinion, and threatened to upheave the moral basis of every thing which had escaped external violence. All de- partments of thought received a new and strong impulse; poetry and philosophy were nearly as much affected as poli- tics. Men speculated about every thing, about science, morals, and religion, as much as government and laws. Lec- turers harangued, public and secret associations were formed for the propagation of peculiar opinions, debating societies rivalled legislative assemblies in turmoil and heat of speech. Government acted with unwonted vigor and sternness, being cheered on by one faction, and execrated by the other which felt its blows. Men were transported or hanged for seditious practices, though their actions would not, in ordinary times, have subjected them even to a fine. Professors in the uni- versities adapted their lectures to the occasion, and spoke with unusual warmth the language of animation, warning, or reproof. Students hurried from the lecture to their club- rooms, where they debated about the rights of man and the organization of society. The effect was not all evil; amid much bluster, error, and noise, were felt the light and heat of true intellectual activity and life. Genius is born and nursed amid political throes and convulsions, as the central fires of our globe make themselves known and felt through earth- quakes and volcanoes. The youth who were receiving their 1854.1 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS ITORNER. 183 education at this exciting epoch showed afterwards far more energy and power than the generations which immediately preceded or followed them. Ambition was roused, at the same time that the restraint of moral principle was relaxed, and the benumbing effect of old customs and fixed institu- tions was passing away. If a quiet and thoughtful boy like Homer had not entered into this stir and tumult of his own accord, he would soon have imbibed a liking for it from his associates. Henry Brougham was his playmate and schoolfellow almost from infancy. in May, 1780, says his mother, they used to run together on the pavement before our house. Jeffrey, Murray, John Allen, and Sydney Smith were among his earliest friends; and he was associated with them in the mem- orable undertaking, half a frolic at its commencement, of the Edinburgh Review. It was one striking proof, among many, of the intellectual activity of the period, that a journal, which exercised from the first a commanding influence on the litera- ture and politics of Great Britain, should have been started, partly as a joke, by half a dozen briefless lawyers and un- beneficed clergymen in Edinburgh, not one of whom had attained the age of thirty. These persons, also, were homers associates and rivals in the Speculative Society, the de- bates in which probably did more to widen the range of his ideas, and develop his powers of thought and expression, than all his studies in the University, or his practice at the bar. He was a careful, though not a brilliant scholar, and when he left IDr. Adams tuition to enter college, he was Dux of the rectors class, or the acknowledged head of the school. With all its advantages as a place of education and resi- dence, Edinburgh is still only a provincial city; and its inhabit- ants show their consciousness of the fact in nothing so strongly as their nervous anxiety to get rid of provincial peculiarities. Hume and Robertson were haunted by the fear of Gallicisms in their style; and Lord Loughborough, in the opening of his career, made a violent attempt to correct his Scotch accent by taking lessons of the elder Sheridan, who, in a rich Irish brogue, undertook to teach all the delicacies of English in- tonation. In like manner, Homer, who was destined first for 184 ~dEM0IRS OF FRANCIS HORNER. [Jan. the Scotch and afterwards for the English bar, was sent by his father to prosecute his studies for a year in England, in order to perfect his pronunciation. He was placed under the care of the Rev. John Hewlett, at Shacklewell, a small village in Middlesex. After he had been there a short time, he writes to his father, With respect to one great object for which you were at the expense and trouble of placing me here, I think I am beginning to pronounce some words as Englishmen do, and just to feel the difference between the rhythm of their conversation and mine. At Shacklewell, he was allowed a degree of liberty in the disposition of his time which would have been hazardous to any boy of seventeen except one who had already been denominated by his schoolfellows the sage, and the ancient Homer. He occupied lodgings in the village, where his instructor visited him only one hour in the day, to render aid in such studies as the youth might select. He read Greek and Latin every morning, and devoted the afternoon to mathematics and the formation of an Eng.. lish style by translating from the French and reading Boling- broke and Junius. He kept up a full correspondence, also, with his former associates at Edinburgh, writing at great length on metaphysical questions and other academical sub.. jects. It is amusing to find a youth, who yet lacked several years of his majority, gravely discussing in his familiar letters the freedom of the will, and passing sentence with much gravity against the absurd and trifling metaphysics of the schoolmen, and the dangerous refinements of modern materi- alists. His anxious and persevering attempts to master the niceties of English idiom had an injurious effect for a while upon his style, which became insufferably formal and stiff. These qualities wore off in time, but he never became a master of easy and graceful English prose. Never was a course of self-discipline more thorough and painstaking than that to which Homer subjected himself for the next ten years of his life. He read not much, but very thoroughly, keeping the pen constantly in his hand, starting doubts and difficulties, or hunting up illustrations, for every page, and anxiously questioning himself every little while as to the amount and value of the accessions which he had 1854.] MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS HORNER. 185 made to his stock of ideas. In this way, he read the princi- pal works of Lord Bacon, Adam Smith, and the leading Economists of France. Sometimes he was lucky enough to find an associate, of similar tastes, and equal ardor and dili- gence; and then they read together, entering into a discus- sion of every question or criticism which the text suggested to either. The only relaxation which he permitted himself was the study of chemistry, the experiments in which offered an agreeable diversion from the painful processes of abstract thought. In the choice of his studies, as well as in the gen- eral character of his opinions, may be traced the influence of Dugald Stewart, whom he revered as an instructor while he was strongly attached to him as a friend. As he kept a diary and wrote numerous letters while this process of self-culture was going on, we are enabled to trace the progress of his studies and the formation of his mind with greater particu- larity than is usual. Modest as he was by nature, the accu- racy of his judgment and his careful habit of self-examina- tion disclosed to him the extent of his powers, and the aims which he cherished were so lofty, that in any other person they ~Tould have savored of conceit. Political virtue, political sagacity, political science, are three great branches of habit to be cultivated; and so, that by being blended together in the mind, they may strengthen ns well as purify each other. It is to give myself a chance for acting in public life, that I shall laboriously devote myself to the law; if I succeed in which, I have two chances for a public scene; either as a judge, which, if in a supreme situation, I should consider as the most dignified, and in which a bene- ficial and permanent influence might be impressed; or, secondly, upon the foundation of an independence acquired professionally, place myself in a public situation, where the results of political philosophy may be applied to the exercise of the great duties of legislation. Vol. I. p. 362. If it seems strange that a man under thirty, and favored by no adventitious aids, should cherish so lofty purposes as these, it is stranger still, that, before ten years had elapsed, he should have fulfilled a large portion of them. He never attained eminence at the bar; he had not the keen and quick intellect, the fluency of speech and ardor of temperament, which are the 16 186 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS HORNER. [Jan. requisites of marked success in that profession. He would have made a better judge than lawyer, and he was too rigid a moral- ist to become a thorough-paced politician. In almost every re- spect, he was the opposite of his friend Brougham; and not- withstanding their early and long-continued intimacy, this essential diversity of character led to events which caused a suspension of intercourse between them during the most active years of their political life. The fault must have been entirely Broughams; for Homer was amiable as well as rigidly just, and was peculiarly happy in making friends and attaching them to himself with the cords of a strong and lasting affection. Among these friends was one, nearly of the same age as Homer, and cut off prematurely, like him, by pulmonary complaints, when he had hardly reached the middle period of life, whose character, as it is not generally known, deserves more than a passing notice. Lord Webb Seymour, a brother of the present Duke of Somerset, after passing the usual period at Christ Church, Oxford, went to Edinburgh in 1797, at the age of twenty, to pursue his studies at the University there, being attracted by its high reputation as a school for moral and physical philosophy. From a brief ~nd affection- ate memoir of him, written by his friend Hallam, the his- torian, and appended to this work, we take the following sketch of his life at Oxford. His character developed itself in a steadiness of purpose and an unshaken determination to cultivate his mind according to a precon- ceived scheme of improvement, rare in a young man of his rank, and much more so at that time than in the present age. The habits of his natural associates, those in college language called gold tufts and silk gowns, were any thing rather than studious, estimable as many of those young men were in private life, and have since shown themselves in the world. Lord Webb Seymour soon adopted a plan, which even the reading men at Oxford seldom thought it necessary to pursue. He reso- lutely declined all invitations, and during the whole remainder of his stay at Christ Church was never seen at a wine party. Such a course, whatever in this more studious age may be thought, brought down at that time on his head the imputation of great singularity; but his re- markable urbanity of manners, and the entire absence of affectation, 1854.] MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS RORNER. 187 preserved to him the respect and regard of those from whose society he thus seemed to withdraw. The reason which Lord Webb gave for thus sacrificing all convivial intercourse was characteristic of his modesty. He felt, he said, that his parts were slow; that he acquired knowledge with less facility than many of his contemporaries; and that he could not hope to compass the objects which he had in view, if he gave up the evening hours, as was then customary, to the pleasures of conversation. The dignity of his mind, always intent on future and even distant schemes of improvement, and hence superior to all momentary emulation, which it is perhaps too much the habit of those who guide our academical studies to encourage, can only be appreciated by those who remember him at this period, and who remember also the frivolous and superficial tone of conversation from which, relatively at least to him, few of his fellow-students, even though not deficient in mental quickness or school learning, were exempt. Lord Webb Seymour was neither a very good scholar, in the com- mon sense of the word, nor by any means the contrary. He knew well, on every subject, what he knew at all, and his character rendered him averse to spread his reading over a large surface. He read slowly and carefully, possibly too much so; but as on this account he forgot little, he was by this means uninformed on many subjects of general literature. But his peculiar quality was the love of truth, and, as is perhaps the case with all true lovers, he loved that mistress the more in proportion as she was slow in favoring his suit. It was said of him that he would rather get at any thing by the longest process; and, in fact, not having a quick intuition, and well knowing that those who decide instantly are apt not to understand what they decide, he felt a reluctance to acquiesce in what the world call a common-sense view of any philosophical question. Vol. I. pp. 533, 534. Attracted by similarity of pursuits and character, he soon became Homers intimate friend. They read Bacon and Adam Smith together, with a conversational commentary on every paragraph, tried chemical experiments, and formed a magnificent scheme for instituting a Philological Society, with an ultimate view to the invention of a real character. The project was rather a presumptuous one for two very young men, whose knowledge of languages was probably confined to a modicum of Latin, Greek, and French, in addi- tion to their mother tongue; and though patronized by the Duke of Somerset himself we are not surprised to learn that 188 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS HORNER. [Jan. it failed to be carried out. Lord Webb Seymour had a stronger taste for natural science than his friend; he travelled over Scotland and part of England, in company with Mr. Playfair, that he might have the benefit of his geological instructions in the field. He also studied mathematics under the same teacher, though he had little taste or aptitude for the science; but he believed it would be a useful discipline for his habits of thought. Though constantly learning, and committing the results of his inquiries to paper, he was too distrustful of himself and too deaf to the voice of ambition, ever to publish any thing, or to enter public life. After a while, he purchased a beautiful estate in Scotland, and there passed most of the remainder of his days, still keeping up a correspondence with his early friends, and manifesting the warmest sympathy in their plans and welfare. He visited Edinburgh occasionally, that he might have the pleasure of a metaphysical discussion with Dr. Thomas Brown; but nature had formed him to be a philosophical recluse, and he soon hastened back to his books in his solitary home. It is not only the time engrossed by society, he wrote to his friend Hallarn, that I find to be the loss in a town; there is a still more serious obstacle to any independtrnt pursuit in the sym- pathy excited by the occupations of other men, who are con- tinually thrusting in upon you political discussion, the busi- ness of the world, and the novelties of literature. It is not every young nobleman of ample fortune, we imagine, who is afraid of having such topics and amusements thrust upon him as Lord Webb Seymour here complains of. Perhaps there was something morbid in the state of mind or moral principle which created so strong a dislike of what the world generally considers as innocent relaxation. He was not a misanthrope, however, and he had considerable power of pleasing in general society. His affection for his friends led him to entertain a nice regard for their moral well-being, as well as for their success in life. After he had been separated from Homer for several years, and when the latter was in the full tide of Parliamentary success, he wrote him a long letter on the danger of allowing his judgment to be warped and his moral sense to be blunted by the excitements of politics and 1854.] MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS IJORNER. 189 the influence of party connections and party views. Here is a lesson in toleration which parties in a monarchy or a repub- lic might profit by, though it be preached by a young noble- man who never had a voice in legislation. Opposition in Parliament is generally conducted upon one very false principle, namely, that the measures of ministers must, in every case, be so far wrong, as to deserve, upon the whole, very severe rep- robation. I will not suppose this principle to be speculatively recog- nized; but it seems, at least, to be practically adopted. Now it is plain, that, where a set of men have the good of the country mainly at heart, and have tolerable capacities for business, though their talents be neither profound nor brilliant, and though their principles lean rather more than is right in favor of the Crown, yet their measures must, in all probability, be often as good as circumstances will admit of, and some- times entitled to praise for unusual prudence or magnanimity. On such occasions, justice is, for the most part, denied them altogether by the opposition side of the House; or, if praise is bestowed at all, it is bestowed in feeble terms, and with reservations much insisted on; but what is denied them in Parliament is granted by an impartial public without doors, with proportionate disgust at the bitter and unremitting censures of factious enmity. Vol. II. p. 352. We subjoin an entry from Mr. Homers diary, written at the time when he was about parting from his excellent friend in order to try his fortunes at the English bar. This day Lord Webb and I read Lord Bacon, I am afraid for the last time; I go to London in a few days, and by the time I return, he will be prepared to bid farewell to Scotland. We have not finished the Novum Organum, having got no farther than that part of the second book in which the author begins to illustrate the prerogative instan- tiarum; bnt we have worked very accurately through the whole of what we have read, and prepared ourselves tolerably well for the study of the Baconian logic upon an enlarged plan, by an attentive study of what may be called its grammar or rudiments. I must take some future opportunity of examining, retrospectively, the kind as well as degree of improvement which these studies with. Seymour have pur- chased; that it is considerable, I cannot entertain a doubt. Independent of the noble subject to which it directed my attention for so considerable a space of time, I must have learned something from the manner and habits of my companion. He is indeed very slow in apprehension, partly from what may be called a want of energy, or at least imagina.. 190 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS HORNER. [Jan. tion, partly too from principle and voluntary habit; but then he pos- sesses, in an eminent degree, the truly philosophic qualities of scrupulous caution, unconquerable patience, unclouded candor. From this crisis of our studies, what different roads we are to follow! His life devoted to speculative labor and scientific accumulation; mine immersed, Si SW fata, in the passing ephemeral details of professional activity. He has the prospect, and the resolution, before him, of persevering through all the general reasonings of Lord Bacons philosophy, and all the pleasing illustrations that can be culled from every field of science. I must con- tent myself in that department with imperfect knowledge, and with the chance of assimilating some portion of philosophy to the mass of prac- tical information, and of infusing something of the spirit of liberal science into the gross and unformed details of business. Vol. I. pp. 177, 178. The short time, little over two years, that Mr. Homer remained in Edinburgh, after his admission to the bar, was not unprofitably spent, though he met the usual fate of young advocates, in. obtaining very little professional business. His own phrase, that he was entirely immersed in law, political economy, and history, does not express the whole truth; for the first of these three studies, though it should have been his chief object, occupied the smallest share of his attention. He had some taste for the antiquities, and what may be called the philosophy, of the law; but its details and practice were excessively irksome to him. But he diligently traversed the broad fields of philosophical and political disquisition, and wrote several articles on Political Economy for the Edinburgh Review. In March, 1802, he made a preliminary visit to London, where, favored by letters of introduction from Lord Webb Seymour, by his intimacy with Sydney Smith and John Allen, and his own reputation as an Edinburgh Reviewer and a young lawyer of great abilities and liberal politics, he was received with open arms by the Whigs, and at once admitted into the most select circle of the wits and talents of their party. The doors of Holland House opened to him, as it were, of their own accord, and before a fortnight had elapsed, he had dined at the King of Clubs, in company with Mackintosh, Romilly, Abercromby, Conversation~ Sharp, and Scarlett, afterwards Lord Abinger. Homers account of this dinner, as given in his diary, shows that he was not dazzled by the 1854.1 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS ILORNER. 191 literary or social reputation of these stars of the ~\Vhig faction, but that he judged them very coolly and with much fairness. The conversation was very pleasing; it consisted chiefly of literary reminiscences, anecdotes of authors, criticisms of books, & c. I had been taught to expect a very different scene; a display of argument, wit, and all the flourishes of intellectual gladiatorship: which, though less permanently pleasing, is for the time more striking. This expectation was not answered; partly, as I am given to understand, from the ab- sence of Smith, and partly from the presence of Romilly, who evidently received from all an unaffected deference, and imposed a certain degree of restraint. I may take notice of one or two particulars, which struck me as the characteristic defects of this days conversation. There was too little of present activity; the memory alone was put to work; no efforts of original production, either by imagination or the reasoning powers. All discussion of opinions was studiously avoided; this could not proceed from any apprehension of unpleasant discord of sentiment, for upon the fundamental doctrines in religion and politics the whole company were certainly biassed to the same side; neither could it arise from a want of difference in opinion, in deductions farther removed from first principles; that can never be the case with powerful understand- ings that have been separately employed: I can only explain the cir- cumstance, therefore, from an erroneous fashion or taste in conversa- tion I shall only remark farther in this place, that between Sharp and Mackintosh, for example, there seems to me to be too much of assentation with respect to canons of criticisms, & c.; as if they lived too much together; as if they belonged to a kind of sect; or as if there was something of compromise between them. Their principles of criticism and taste appear to me quite just, and formed very much upon the French school; IRacine and Virgil the models of poetical composi- tion, and Cicero the prince of prose writers: at the same time, they do not carry the principles, upon which this judgment is founded, to that cold and dull extreme, which limits all excellence to correctness, and allows no relish for the wildness of untamed imagination, or the flights of extravagant eccentric genius. I rather apprehend that they even suffer this indulgence a little farther than is quite consistent with the other ruling principle; their admiration of Burke, for example, is not qualified enough; and their appetite for the nervous or flowing pas- sages that may with toil be detected in the obscure folios of some of our old English writers, apparent ran nantes in gurgite vasto, betrays unquestionably a palate not fully gratified with the milder relish of chastened excellence. Vol. I. pp. 183 185. 192 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS HOILNER. [Jan. Homer himself appears to have made a very agreeable impression on these men, partly perhaps because he was not a wit, and the inherent modesty and amiableness of his dis- position prevented him from entering into any rivalry with them as accomplished conversers, and partly because his ex- cellent abilities and extensive information were manifest enough to prove that he was a very desirable accession to the party. He also made the acquaintance of Sir Humphrey Davy and the poet Campbell, and, on the whole, passed the time in London so much to his satisfaction, that we are not surprised to learn that he shortened by one year his in- tended future stay in Scotland, so that he might the sooner make his home in the midst of so many attractions. It is amusing to be informed from his own confession, made not long after his final settlement in the great metropolis, that he soon found the necessity of unlearning some of the habits which he had formed in the metaphysical climate of Edinburgh; such as the inclination to theorize, and to present general principles or rules in a scholastic dress. Some frank confessions were also made to him, as when Mackintosh ad- mitted his recent discovery, forced upon him by his practice at the Cockpit, that he knew almost nothing about inter- national law, though he had lectured upon it with great iclat some years before in Lincolns Inn. Success at the bar was evidently a secondary object with Homer, though he had some show of business in the Scotch law cases before the House of Lords, and though he entered his name at Lincolns Inn with the intention, afterwards ful- filled, of regularly going the circuit. But an opening into political life was the great aim of his endeavors; and with this view he attended Whig meetings, and frequented the strangers gallery in the House of Commons, to hear the debates, with much greater enjoyment than he found in the courts. A political crisis had arrived, and the debates were unusually interesting. Doctor Addington, as he was called, had pre- sumed to think and act for himself, and to keep his post at the head of the ministry, after William Pitt, who had re- garded him only as a warming-pan, had signified a wish that he should retire, and thus open the way for his own return 1854.1 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS HORNER. 193 to power. Strong in the personal favor of the king, and in a very respectable political connection, the Doctor turned a deaf ear to the mandate; and Pitt, in great wrath, formed a sort of league with Fox and the Whig opposition, in order that their united forces might compel him to retire. As the country was greatly excited from the imminent prospect of an invasion by Napoleon, and the whole conduct of the war was at stake, the leaders in Parliament mustered their forces and put forth all their strength for the encounter. Homer and Mackintosh often waited seven or eight hours to secure a seat in the gallery, and did not always succeed. The following is an account by the former of one of the great debates. Foxs opening speech was not eloquent; on the contrary, slovenly as to manner, and languid; probably from an express intention to re- strain himself on personal topics, that he might not anticipate Pitt in this respect; he did not allude to ministers, but confined himself to the inadequacy of the present arrangements for national defence, and the means of improving them into a permanent system by a better plan of recruiting, and by regulations for military exercises among the peasantry. All the substance of his speech was excel1~nt. Pitt gave us both substance and manner, as a debater of the highest powers; most explicit in his declaration against ministers, which he delivered, however, as if at last after much consideration and reluctance; but he enforced it with a good deal of grave vehement declamation in his way, and some touches of that bitter, freezing sarcasm, which everybody agrees is his most original talent, and appears indeed most natural to him. His speech was very argumentative and full of details; through- out, the impression he left was, and he disguised very successfully his anxiety to make this impression, that every measure government had adopted for the national defence originated from his suggestions, which they had marred, however, by adopting them imperfectly, and carrying them still worse into execution. The speeches of ministers were con- fined, till the Attorney-General rose, to the defence of the different parts of their military measures that had been attacked; Percival took a much more judicious view of the debate, and treated the motion as if it had been in terms for the dismissal of ministers. This was the true mode of treating it, if he could have executed his idea with skill; but his want of talent drove him to violence and extreme personality, so as to betray the fury and despair of his friends, or rather their con- vulsions in death. His personal abuse of Fox and Windham was vul- voL. Lxxvnm.No. 162. 17 194 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS HORNER. [Jan. gar and gross in the extreme. But we in the gallery were much in- debted to him, for it produced a masterly speech from each in their very different styles. Wiudham repelled the personality, chiefly by the contrast of his own manner; with great fire, but perfect temper, a very polite contempt, and exquisite wit; he spoke not more than ten minutes, but he refreshed ones mind from all the bad feelings that Per- cival had given us. Fox treated him after a different regimen; con- demning, with much vehemence and indignation, the faction and rib- aldry which he had introduced into the debate; and defending his own political connections and conduct with all the manliness and simplicity of his best manner. Vol. I. pp. 261, 262. We add an account of two other distinguished speakers, whom Homer heard on a subsequent occasion, as the criticism upon one of them shows very plainly the sagacity and excel- lent judgment to which he owed much of his own success in Parliament. Dr. Lawrence will be best remembered as the intimate friend and literary executor of Edmund Burke, though we can hardly pardon his remissness in the duties of the latter office. The best hkits as to the real substance of the case gleamed through the darkness and turbidness of Dr. Lawrence, who would fairly have talked his audience to death, if they had not coughed him to silence; his expectoration (to use a delicate phrase of Lord Ellenboroughs) was dreadful to the hearer, but seemed to be full of knowledge and sense and acuteness, as I have always found him whenever I have had self-command sufficient to listen. There was one extraordinary oration that night, Sir William Grants; quite a masterpiece of his peculiar and miraculous manner: conceive an hour and a half of syllogisms strung together in the closest tissue, so artfully clear that you think every successive inference unavoidable; so rapid that you have no leisure to reflect where you have been brought from, or to see where you are to be carried, and so dry of ornament or illustration or refresh- ment, that the attention is stretched stretched racked. All this is done without a single note. And yet, while I acknowledge the great vigor of understanding displayed in such performances, I have a heresy of my own about Grants speaking; it does not appear to me of a par- liamentary cast, nor suited to the discussions of a political assembly. The effect he produces is amazement at his power, not the impression of his subject; npw this is a mortal symptom. Besides this, he gives me a suspicion of sophistry, which haunts me through his whole de 1854.] MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS HORNER. 195 duction; though I have nothing immediately to produce, I feel dissatis- fied, as if there were something that might be said. And after all, there are no trains of syllogism nor processes of intricate distinctions in subjects that are properly political. The wisdom, as well as the common feel- ings that belong to such subjects, lies upon the surface in a few plain and broad lines; there is a want of genius in being very ingenious about them, and it belongs to talents of the second order to proceed with a great apparatus of reasoning. Vol. I. pp. 307, 308. Homer was soon to enter the arena of which he had so long been a wishful spectator. When he had been little more than a year in London, he was formally invited by Lord Fitzwil- ham, with whom he had had no previous acquaintance, to at- tend a dinner-party at his house, at which many of the Whig leaders were to be present, in order to consult about some new move on the political chessboard. Such an invitation kindled his hopes anew; but his diary shows that, with his usual conscientiousness, he entered into a severe examination of himself, his opinions and principles, to learn whether he could, by accepting it, honestly join Mr. Foxs party. The result of this scrutiny being favorable, he attended the dinner, and found, to his great disgust, that the grand project which they were called together to consider was only that some association might be formed, for writing pamphlets, squibs, epigrams, & c. against the administration. The epigrams were evidently considered more important than the pamphlets; and the only result of the meeting was, that Jekyll wrote half a dozen very good ones. This first view of the petty man ceu- vres of a great political party almost sickened an ingenuous neophyte like Homer. He tried to smooth the plumes of his ruffled dignity by gravely recording this lofty purpose in his diary I shall perhaps look out for some opportu- nities, of my own accord, for writing constitutional tracts, such as those opportunities which my Lord Somers, in his earlier days, thought no improper temptations from the general career which he pursued. Bravo, young Scotch philoso- pher! But perhaps it was quite as well that the constitu- tional tracts, after the manner of my Lord Somers in his earlier days, were never written; Lord Fitzwilliam and the other veteran Whig schemers would only have shrugged their shoulders at them. 196 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS HORNER. [Jan. When Homer came to be better understood, as not a wit, not an intriguer, not a catspaw in dirty or fiery business, but as a person of immense indnstry, large attainments, and scrupulous uprightness, and as therefore not only a sound but a safe man, the party soon found fitting employment for him. He judges himself very fairly in a letter which he wrote about this period to his friend Murray. As for the splendid, hazardous pursuits of foreign policy and minis- terial intrigue, into which our friend Brougham is plunging himself with a resolution to succeed that seems to insure success, and will at all events secure distinction, they are as unsuitable to the habits of my mind as to its powers; too bustling for the indolent predilection (which grows upon me hourly) for domestic and confined society, and not of magnitude, I will acknowledge, adequate to my idea of the highest sort of ambition. Lord Bacon and Dugald Stewart have made me a little of a visionary, as I believe you have sometimes thought; I am sure Brougham must have thought so always. But I have not yet reasoned myself out of those shades; the fantastic spell is unbroken, so I must even go on still perque dornos vacuas et mania regna. Vol. I. p. 279. The first honorable application made for Mr. Homers polit- ical services was by the Chairman of the East India Coin- pany, that he should write an exposition of the views of the Directors with respect to the extension of their Eastern dominions. It is not known that any thing came of this pro- posal, though he accepted it for the dignified reason stated in his journal, that, in advocating a canse which is congenial to my own principles and feelings, I shall have to illustrate the high rules of political virtue, to assert the rights of remote nations of men, and to prescribe maxims to the government of England, for the preservation and improvement of her empire in Asia. Pretty well for a youth of twenty-six! Two years afterwards, when the Whigs were in power, and the famous administration of All the Talents was formed, Homer received an offer from Lord Minto of a seat, vacated by the resignation of Lord Harrowbys brother, at the Board of Commissioners appointed to adjust the long-disputed claims of the creditors of the Nabob of Arcot. With some misgivings on his own part, and a great many on that of his 1854.1 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS HORNER. 197 friends, for he was endangering his chance of earning an in- dependence at the bar, this offer was accepted. It is honor- able both to Mr. Homer and his advisers to be able to say, that their scruples entirely vanished only when it was ascer- tained that the Commissionership, though a highly respecta- ble office, was attended with no emolument whatever. It was a post of hard work and no pay; but it was an earnest of better things. Hardly four weeks had elapsed before he re- ceived a proposal from Lord Kinnaird to bring him into Par- liament as member for his Lordships rotten borough of St. Ives. Homers immediate reply was characteristic. He told Lord Henry Petty, who communicated the offer, that he must have some days to reflect; that he could himself afford no expense; that he never would come into Parliament under instructions from any man; that his political attachment was to Mr. Foxs party; and that he must be satisfied that Lord Kinnaird held the same views, and was likely to be steady in them. The assurances given on all these points were satisfac- tory; and then, though he had received a letter of affectionate warning and remonstrance from his philosophic friend, Lord Webb Seymour, the young Scotchman accepted the dazzling proposal, and came into the House of Commons just after his friends the Whigs left the ministry. As all expectations of obtaining office or emolument were thus dissipated, we may suppose that even Lord Webb Seymours scruples were dissipated also. We do not propose to follow Mr. Homers Parliamentary career, as it is a part of the history of the times, and is suffi- ciently familiar to all. Indeed, our object all along has been, to show rather what he was, than what he accomplished. It is not often that such a character appears on the political stage, not, as we hope, because the character itself is rare, but because it is usually manifested only in private life. We shall think better of professed politicians in future, because one such man deigned to take service, and even found favor, among them. Mr. Homers part in the House of Commons xvas not showy or bustling, but it was eminently discreet, laborious, and honorable. On such subjects as the currency and the corn laws, he soon became an authority, and his opinions 17 198 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS HORNER. [Jan. were received with much deference. On another important point, the resumption of cash payments by the Bank, as we have seen, he had the honor of leading the public opinion of England. If his party adopted measures about the policy of which he was doubtful, he was silent, or he absented himself from the House; if they swerved a hairs breadth from what he conceived to be the true line of uprightness and magna- nimity, he opposed them. A striking proof of such independence was given by him immediately after Napoleons return from Elba. He had fully shared his countrymens intense dislike of Englands great enemy, with whom she had waged a furious war for fourteen years, broken only by one brief and hollow truce, who had almost constantly foiled her on the land, while he had been regularly beaten by her at sea. No one had been more despondent than Homer, at the time when, after the peace of Tilsit, Napoleon appeared almost as the undisputed sovereign of Continental Europe; and no one uttered more fervent thanksgivings after the campaign of 1813 14 had dashed this mighty empire into fragments, and left the great conqueror as master only of a petty islet in the Mediterra- nean. And his imagination was not kindled or his judgment warped by the most astounding feat recorded in modern history, by Napoleons landing at Frejus, and his unresisted march to Paris. He still detested the Corsicans character and policy, and grieved to see him restored to the throne of France. But here he stopped, for the circumstances had changed. Napoleon was no longer a usurper, for when destitute of power, he had been reinstated, as it were, by acclamation, by what seemed to be the free and unanimous voice of the French people; and as a consistent Whig, Mr. Homer could not deny the right of a nation to choose its own ruler without foreign interference. Moreover, Napoleon was now a consti- tutional sovereign, having conciliated the republican party by the grant of the acte additionnel, which confined the imperial power within comparatively narrow limits; and this act had been accepted by a popular vote of over 1,500,000 to 5,000. Probably not another monarch in Europe could have obtained the free vote of so large a majority of his people for his own con- 1854.] MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS HORNER. 199 tinuance on the throne. But more than all, Napoleon now appeared as a suitor for peace, while the allies proposed to put him under the ban of nations, and to wage interminable war against him as an enemy of the human race. If Eng- land was again to engage in the conflict, the war on her part -xvas to be unquestionably an aggressive one. Entirely un- provoked, and rejecting an humble offer of peace, England was to invade France for the sole purpose of dethroning one who had just been raised to the throne with unparalleled unanimity by his own subjects. If Mr. Homer had disliked Napoleon less, these con sidera- tions might have had less weight with him. They would not have appeared so formidable, moreover, if his own interests the good-will of his friends, his popularity with all parties, and even the chance of retaining his seat in Parliament had not plainly required him to disregard them. But sus- pecting that his judgment might be biassed by these two reasons, he anxiously pondered over the arguments against renewing the war till they appeared irresistible; and then, nobly disregarding the astonishment and reproaches of those who knew him best, the suspicions of the still larger number of persons who always impute ill motives to those who differ from them in opinion, and the opposition of his own party, he formed one of the very small minority who voted against the declaration of hostilities. Immediately after the division, he wrote to the Marquis of Bnckingham, to whom he owed his seat in the House, and offered to resign it, as he was no longer able to reconcile his sense of duty to the public with the support of that line of public policy which the Marquis had adopted. And this was not merely a formal offer, made with a good hope that it would not be accepted; for though his patron handsomely declined to take immediate advantage of it, he said very plainly in his reply, that if the difference of opinion between them, which had as yet been manifested only upon one topic and in one vote, should lead to a continued difference in our public line of conduct, he would then ac- cept Mr. Homers honorable proposal. There still remained the difficult task of satisfying his father, his scrupulous phil- osophic friend, Lord Webb Seymour, and even his old asso 200 MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS RORNER. [Jan. ciates, Murray and Jeffrey, not merely that his vote was founded on sincere conviction, for that they never doubted, but that it did not imply any dereliction of principles for- merly avowed, or any change of opinion respecting the char- ter and policy of Napoleon. To Murray he wrote: If we are to open a new Iliad of war against the military power of France, it is of the last importance that we should so commence it, as to stamp upon it, in the opinion of the people of the Continent, its true character of a war of defence merely against aggrandizement. By going to war now, we go to war for the Bourbons, to force that feeble, worn-out race upon the French; we go to war too upon a still more hopeless, and in my sentiments unjustifiable principle, that of proscrib- ing an individual, and, through him, the nation which has adopted him, as incapable of peace or truce. It is obvious, that, proceeding in that manner, we do what we can to inspire into the French soldiery all the fire of enthusiasm, every feeling of pride for their national indepen- dence, and the utmost devotion for their great chief. The argument used on the other side is, that in prudence it must be assumed that he will act over again his old part as soon as he has collected sufficient means, and that the interval should not be let slip of overbearing him, while he is unprepared, with the whole combined numbers of the allies. Even if these things could be taken for granted, I question if it would not still be but a short-sighted prudence,.to reject the opportunity which his professions of peace and moderation might afford of confirm- ing in the pi~iblic mind of Europe, an impression of the justice of our cause in that war, which, if it be renewed, will be one of no short duration, and must, in the course of it, involve in all the vicissitudes of fortune the best parts of the world. For England, I own, I cannot see, if we are to have another period of war, that ultimate success abroad, if~to be hoped, would compensate our sure and irreparable losses at home; the inevitable insolvency of the Exchequer must, in one dis- guised shape or other, bring on a dreadful convulsion of property, with the ruin of all those families, whom the Courier (resuming the ancient Jacobinical phrase of its editor when he was the hireling of violence of another sort) stigmatizes as the drones of society, the annuitants, those who live on the savings of former industry; and in addition to this calamity, we shall witness the acceleration of that change, which is already begun, of our old civil system of freedom and law, for a mili- tary government. Such are my present melancholy dreams; sleeping or waking, they are about my bed, and about my path, speaking most literally; for since this devil incarnate rose again from the dead, I have known no comfortable day. Vol. II. pp. 246 248. 1854.] MEMOIRS OF FRANCIS IIORNER. 201 The battle of Waterloo relieved Mr. Homer from one per- plexity only to throw him into another. The war was over, but Napoleon gave himself up to the English, declaring that he had terminated his political career, and that he came, like Themistocles, to seat himself at the hearth of the British people, and to claim the protection of its laws; and Mr. Homer could not see, under these circumstances, how it was either just or magnanimous to send this devil incarnate as a prisoner for life to St. Helena. Nearly all England, it is tine, ratified this conduct of its government by acclamation; and the unanimity of opinion did not allow the subject to come up for debate, or even for a division, in Parliament, so that Mr. Homer had no opportunity to express his dissent. But he communicated his scruples to his friends, among others to Mr. Hallam, and was good-naturedly scolded by him for being so wrong-headed. The termination of Mr. Homers own career was at hand. As early as June, 1816, we find him writing to his father that he was a little plagued with a cough, in which there is nothing at all material, except the circumstance of its continuing so long, which, I think, is owing to the cold weather. The physicians thought otherwise; in a few weeks, they ordered him to give up public speaking, to suspend a) professional en- gagements, and to pass the ensuing winter in a warmer climate. Then appeared the strength of the attachment which bound his friends to him. Inquiries and expressions of sympathy came from all quarters; and as he was especially reluctant to leave England, Lord and Lady Holland invited him to take a suit of rooms at their house, where he might live all the winter within doors, and be tended by her Ladyship as care- fully as by a mother. But this course was not held by the physicians to be expedient, and Mr. Homer went to Italy to die. He expired at Pisa, on the 8th of February, 1817, and was buried in the Protestant cemetery at Leghorn. We ought not to close without expressing our thanks to the American publishers, for the liberality and good taste which they have evinced in this very handsome reprint of an excellent work. It is decidedly superior to the English edi- tion, not only on account of the valuable additional matter 202 A FRONTIER MISSIONARY AND LOYALIST. [Jan. which it contains, but in its mechanical style and execution. Hitherto, the superiority of an English to an American book, in point of paper and typography, has been taken for granted; but the recent publications of the firm to which we are in- debted for the Memoirs of Homer go far towards justifying a reversal of this opinion. ART. VIII. Collections of the Protestant Episcopal Histor- ical Society. Volume II. The Frontier liiliissionary: a life- moir of the Life of the REV. JACOB BAILEY, A.M., iVilissionary at Pownalborough, llKliaine; ~LIlornwallis and Annapolis, N S.; with illustrations, Notes, and an Appendix. By WILLIAM S. BARTLET, A.M., Rector of St. Lukes Church, Chelsea, Mass., and a Corresponding Member of the Maine His- torical Society. With a Preface by RIGHT REV. GEORGE BURGESS, D.D., Bishop of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the Diocese of Maine. Boston: Ide & Dutton. 1853. 8vo. pp. 365. THE man who puts pen to paper, and spares that paper from the flames, is at the mercy of posterity. Litera scripta manet. Be it a recipe, or an orderlys book; an undigested mass of memoranda, or a treatise completed for the press; files of letters never seen except by two pairs of tender eyes, or heaps of sermons familiar to the ears of more congregations than one; juvenile poetry, or autobiography laid by and for- gotten; secret, religious diaries, or treasonable correspondence; the doubtful books of Hookers Ecclesiastical Polity, the Greek prayers of Bishop Andrews, the Latin ones of Dr. Johnson, the love-letters of Doddridge, the journal in cipher of Pepys, the unfinished Tales of Crabbe, or the corrected and recorrected originals of the polished verse of Pope, all must come forth before a gazing world, if no careful executor or hasty house- wife has removed them out of the way of that search which, sooner or later, will be attempted. The antiquarian tempera- ment is exceedingly common; and the mere accident of pres

202 A FRONTIER MISSIONARY AND LOYALIST. [Jan. which it contains, but in its mechanical style and execution. Hitherto, the superiority of an English to an American book, in point of paper and typography, has been taken for granted; but the recent publications of the firm to which we are in- debted for the Memoirs of Homer go far towards justifying a reversal of this opinion. ART. VIII. Collections of the Protestant Episcopal Histor- ical Society. Volume II. The Frontier liiliissionary: a life- moir of the Life of the REV. JACOB BAILEY, A.M., iVilissionary at Pownalborough, llKliaine; ~LIlornwallis and Annapolis, N S.; with illustrations, Notes, and an Appendix. By WILLIAM S. BARTLET, A.M., Rector of St. Lukes Church, Chelsea, Mass., and a Corresponding Member of the Maine His- torical Society. With a Preface by RIGHT REV. GEORGE BURGESS, D.D., Bishop of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the Diocese of Maine. Boston: Ide & Dutton. 1853. 8vo. pp. 365. THE man who puts pen to paper, and spares that paper from the flames, is at the mercy of posterity. Litera scripta manet. Be it a recipe, or an orderlys book; an undigested mass of memoranda, or a treatise completed for the press; files of letters never seen except by two pairs of tender eyes, or heaps of sermons familiar to the ears of more congregations than one; juvenile poetry, or autobiography laid by and for- gotten; secret, religious diaries, or treasonable correspondence; the doubtful books of Hookers Ecclesiastical Polity, the Greek prayers of Bishop Andrews, the Latin ones of Dr. Johnson, the love-letters of Doddridge, the journal in cipher of Pepys, the unfinished Tales of Crabbe, or the corrected and recorrected originals of the polished verse of Pope, all must come forth before a gazing world, if no careful executor or hasty house- wife has removed them out of the way of that search which, sooner or later, will be attempted. The antiquarian tempera- ment is exceedingly common; and the mere accident of pres 1854.] A FRONTIER MISSIONARY AND LOYALIST. 203 ervation creates a real value. Obscure persons become im- portant when they can tell us, under their own hand, what no living man has seen, and give us back, just as it was, the picture of an age which has left, or has not left, a history ; a picture, precious if it adds to the history that exists, most pre- cious if it restores a history that had else been lost! The Frontier Missionary of the book before us was one of those who write much which a deliberate judgment might very well sentence to the flames, but who preserve it, such as it is, from the same fondness which led them to write at all. The result in this instance appears to have been a chaos of papers, out of which the biographer, with evident industry, accuracy, and discretion, has prepared a volume which the Historical Society of the Episcopal Church did well in incor- porating with its Collections, and which merits its own peculiar place amongst the books that illustrate the annals, manners, and character of New England. In the Harvard class of 1755, a bashful young man, twenty- five years old, named Jacob Bailey, of Rowley, received his diploma, along with John Adams, John Wentworth, Tristram Dalton, President Locke, and several other youths who attained a subsequent eminence. Bailey, though of course one of the oldest of the class, yet, from his humble origin, was placed at the foot of the Catalogue, in accordance with the academic heraldry of our fathers. His story may be briefly told. The son of a farmer in narrow circumstances, he had attracted by his facility of composition the notice of the minister of the parish, who assisted him, and obtained for him the assistance of wealthier men, in working out his education. By school- keeping, he sustained himself through a period of preparation for the Congregationalist ministry, and was duly licensed; but in 1760 went to England for Episcopal ordination, and re- turned, as a missionary of the Society for the Propagation of the Gospel, to the settlers at Pownalborough on the Kenne- bec. There the Revolution found him, after fifteen years of labor amongst a people generally poor and not seldom rough, with his humble church and parsonage, his admirable garden, and his ever fertile writing-table. A Loyalist in principle and in heart, and dependent on a stipend from England, he rather 204 A FRONTIER MISSIONARY AND LOYALIST. [Jan. broke than bent before the tempest; and, after enduring much, found his way in great poverty to Halifax. The residue of his days were passed in the charge of missions at Cornwallis and Annapolis in Nova Scotia; and at Annapolis he died, in 1808, an old man of manifold experience. Along the thread of this Life of Mr. Bailey, his biographer has arranged, from his manuscripts and from other sources, a variety of curious and interesting details, relating chiefly to the religious observances of the voyagers and colonists who landed in the northern regions of North America befQre the permanent settlement at Plymouth; the manners of the age which preceded the Revolution; the fortunes of the Loyalists; and the early history of Episcopacy and the Episcopal clergy in the Eastern States. It was a striking feature of the exploring expeditions of Eng- land from the first, that Christianity and its ordinances ~vent with the voyagers. We have admired the same noble union of faith and high enterprise in the characters and deeds of some of her later discoverers, like Parry and Franklin. But with those of the days of Elizabe